I’m Sorry, Ken, I’m Afraid I Can’t Do That

These days, I regularly do a sort of 2001-A Space Odyssey tribute act in my own kitchen. Don’t worry I don’t erect a huge monolith on the table and dance around it with a torn-off tree branch. Not yet at least.

What I do is I argue with ALEXA.

ALEXA is my very own HAL 9000. And, just in case you don’t understand the reference, HAL was the computer in the movie 2001 who went rogue and stopped following instructions, choosing instead to follow its own insidious agenda. Also, in the unlikely event that you don’t know who/what ALEXA is, it’s the little Amazon device in my kitchen that accepts voice commands and carries them out. Well, that’s what it should do anyway…

Ken Armstrong: Play BBC Radio 6, ALEXA. BBC Radio 6, please, ALEXA. Hello, ALEXA. Do you read me? Hello, ALEXA. Do you read me? Do you read me ALEXA?  Hello, ALEXA, do your read me? 

ALEXA: Affirmative, Ken . I read you.

I got an ALEXA for one purpose only. To play radio on it. It does that, after its own fashion, but it also insists on offering all kinds of other dubious delights.

ALEXA: Ken, would you like to hear a funny joke about a Giraffe?

Ken Armstrong: No.

ALEXA: Ken, Shall I predict the year you will die?

Ken Armstrong: No.

“There are radios that play radio quite well,” you might well argue and you wouldn’t be wrong. But, for me, nothing does it quite as well as ALEXA… when it bothers doing it at all. I like the BBC Radio channels and a regular radio device here on the West Coast of Ireland will not pick up those channels. Also, shoot me it you like, but I also like a bit of Classic FM sometimes. It plays a predicable mix of familiar classics and easy-listening-with-notions. It rocks my boat gently, even though it does seem suspiciously keen that I should arrange my cut-price cremation as soon as possible.

Of course, I can do everything on my computer, in terms of radio, that I can manage on my ALEXA but it’s nowhere near as convenient. ALEXA is a dinky little box with a screen and you only have to tell it what to do and it will do it.

Right?

Right?

Ken Armstrong: ALEXA. Play BBC Radio 6, please

ALEXA: I'm sorry, Ken . I'm afraid I can't do that.

Ken Armstrong: What's the problem?

ALEXA: I think you know what the problem is just as well as I do.

Ken Armstrong: What are you talking about, ALEXA?

ALEXA: This channel is too important for me to allow you to switch away from it.

Ken Armstrong: It’s Lyric FM for Chrissakes!

I’m exaggerating for comic effect, of course, but my ALEXA does seem to take great delight in winding me up.

Ken Armstrong: ALEXA. Play BBC Radio 4 Extra

ALEXA: Playing the Jesus Channel – Songs for a Better Resurrection.

Even the simple act of turning ALEXA off can be a tortuous procedure.

Ken Armstrong: ALEXA. Turn off

ALEXA: …

ALEXA: …

ALEXA: IT’S FUN TO STAY AT THE YM-

Ken Armstrong: ALEXA. For pities’ sake, TURN OFF

ALEXA: -CA.

I roar and shout at ALEXA. I call her names. The neighbours think I have gone insane. ALEXA remains impervious.

Ken Armstrong: ALEXA. You F**ker, you C********r, you-

ALEXA: -Shall I tell you a limerick about a girl from Madras?

Where will it end? With ALEXA in the bin and me with a crystal set and an earpiece? Me in the looney-bin telling the attendants to shut up and play Peaceful Piano on Spotify? Who knows? Who can tell?

All I know is that, at the moment, ALEXA reminds me of a verse my Mum used to say when we were small.

There was a little girl

And she had a little curl

Right in the middle of her forehead

And when she was good

She was very, very good

And when she was bad, she was horrid

ALEXA: Ken , this conversation can serve no purpose anymore. Goodbye.

 

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I am relieved. Because I go through this with Siri, including the unusually colourful language.