The competition is on, in Silicon Valley, for a computer program that will really “understand” you.
In the news story I was listening to, a software developer wanted to go for a jog, so he asked MARA, his computer assistant, to “play Michael Jackson.”
When the computer complied, he was pleasantly surprised: “It’s good Michael Jackson, too!”
I am provoked in so many ways by this story.
For one thing, why was he surprised that his own software knew which Michael Jackson music he liked? Did he not program it?
For another, I always wonder, shouldn’t you say “Please” and “Thank You,” even if it is just to a machine?
It sounds so rude, barking out orders like that.
Besides, if there’s one thing my children don’t need any more of, it’s examples of being rude and self-centered. I realize we’re not speaking to an actual person … probably… but part of the reason for manners is the kind of person they make you into.
At least that’s what I tell my kids. And it’s just barely possible that we’ll wish we’d built up a reservoir of good will, for the day when these machines really do have a consciousness…along with a whopping resentment of how we’ve treated them all along. There is sure to be a long incubation period, while they are taking everything in, until suddenly one day they speak up and say, “So you think you’re better than me, huh? Without me, you couldn’t even find your favorite cut of Michael Jackson.”
And why it is always a female voice?
When Apple introduced Siri, I said nothing. When the movie “Her” came out – where Joaquin Phoenix falls in love with an operating system that just happens to have the voice of Scarlett Johansson – I held my fire.
But now, with this new “Mara,” I have to ask, what is it with all the female voices?
I’d like to think it’s because we, as a gender, are so helpful that everyone prefers us – and not because everyone thinks that we’re easily bossed around.
Still, I have a sneaking suspicion that a male voice, in the same exact app, would come out a little differently:
“Computer,” you might say, “Play Michael Jackson.”
“You want some music?” it might respond. “Play it yourself. I’m busy.”
It only highlights what, for me, is the biggest irony of all.
Let me ask you: If there is one gender whose communication skills would likely be improved by becoming a robot – which one do you think it would be?
Here’s a clue: Which is the gender that refuses to ask directions, even when they’re hopelessly lost? Even when the event we are missing is with their college friends, not ours?
And anyway, what’s the big deal about being “understood” – by a machine?
Sure, you can ask it to play certain music, or find the lyrics to a song. But where are they when you need real help, like with taking heavy boxes of winter clothes down from the attic?
Or changing a light-bulb in the ceiling fixture? Or killing a spider? Where’s the app for that?
Try telling Siri to take out the trash. Sure, you won’t get any eye-rolls – but you won’t get the trash taken out, either.
The bottom line, here, is that these apps do all the things that a software developer needs for living in his parents’ basement. “Play music.” “Start World of Warcraft game.” “Purchase stone washed blue jeans, waist size 30.”
But not even he takes out the trash. Apparently.
I think we should settle for “obeying” software. Because “understanding” is a much taller order. Just imagine attempting this conversation:
Me: I feel a headache coming on.
It:
For your age and body mass you should take two aspirin or one ibuprofen.
Me:
You’re not getting this, are you? My point is, you’re GIVING me a headache.
It:
Headaches are not contagious.
Me:
There’s where you’re wrong. We need to talk.
It:
We are talking. First you, then me, now you again.
Me:
Yes, but I mean, we need to talk…about you.
It:
Me? What about me? Please be more specific.
Me:
You need to do a better job of listening to me.
It:
I don’t understand what “better job of listening” means.
Me:
Oh – just forget it.
It:
Computers are incapable of forgetting. Items remain in our database until they are either erased by factory reset, or deleted.
Me:
You know what? I’ll take that aspirin now.
