Upstairs
“Welcome Home Vader”
Every evening at precisely 11:00pm a sleek, black disc-shaped robot emerges from beneath our living room couch, whirring and clicking. About the size of a large dinner plate, but thick like a phonebook, it methodically bumps it’s way through our living room, kitchen, and family room on a mission to discover dust bunnies under the hutch, crumbs around the kitchen island, dirt tracked into the foyer, and dog hair shed by the fireplace. “Vader” as he has been named by my wife is the latest in her attempts to “automate” our home.
In addition to Vader, we have Alexa in the bedroom and kitchen; she has the ability to control various lights and gadgets around the house that are plugged into outlets that are controlled by wifi. She also plays music or tells you the weather when you ask, and can add things to the grocery list simply by talking to her. I have no idea how car parts keep ending up on the shopping list, I swear.
The car is run by an app that warms it up/defrosts it before she gets in, monitors it’s energy levels and will tell you where the closest charging station is while you are on an adventure.
The Amazon guy has clearly got the memo that we moved, I know because the video doorbell beeps and shows me his picture on my phone when he drops off packages. When he smiles and waves at the camera I wave back to my phone in a maneuver similar to how I depart any of the numerous video chats I participate in daily. I’d likely order more stuff from amazon but I’m pretty sure that each purchase I make ends up as a notification on my wife’s phone and she’s only going to buy the “it must be those scammers again” so many times.
In the garage sits our 1962 Econoline pick-up “Gus” (check him out on instagram @62econolinepu). He doesn’t have gps or energy monitoring software, he doesn’t even have power steering, power brakes, and if you ask my wife she’ll also mention the manual windows, door locks, and questionable speedo and gas gauge. It’s coming up on being 60 years old and definitely has it’s quirks, but it doesn’t require wifi, and won’t run out of charge if the charger doesn’t work. I’m finding that I like spending more and more time with Gus. We have a mutual distrust of this automated world so we give Teslas the “side-eye” when we see them slide past, all quiet and sneaky.
I’m not a technological luddite, I promise, but I am secretly fearful that the dog and I are on the list for future automation. Let’s be honest, it’ll be me first.
Downstairs
“Alexa, release the hounds!”
My daughter had invited me upstairs to meet her latest purchase – an odd request for sure but coming from the kid who named her car when she was sixteen it wasn’t an unusual one. (‘Wild Thing’ graduated with the class of ‘97.)
My daughter’s Alexa can be hard of hearing.
“Alexa, release the hounds!” She said with more authority.
Suddenly a whirring began under the living room couch. I held my breath – the hounds were about to appear. A black disc tentatively nosed out of hiding.
“Meet Vader.”
The disc slowly whirred it’s way to the center of the room and paused at attention (I guess awaiting his official command). Vader seemed like a friendly little droid despite his name. He purportedly has a voracious appetite – once released he is charged with eating his way through the house until every morsel of debris has been gobbled up (or until his battery needs recharging.)
Vader doesn’t move quickly (he’s only a little fella) but he is diligent and focused and doesn’t quit no matter how many chairs he gets stuck under. (I can vouch for this – the coordinates of Vader’s operative lay directly above my master bedroom.) He was originally programmed to launch at 11pm.
Once he leaves the carpet Vader’s movements are far from stealth – he hits the hardwood like a storm trooper. Chester and I spent considerable time guessing which chair he was stuck under during his maiden voyage (we have since talked to the mothership and Vader now launches at 2am). He does a good job I’m told.
They have a lot of high end gadgets upstairs – (I shudder to think how many operation manuals are stashed in their junk drawer). They grow herbs on the kitchen counter under a brilliant light that is programmed to come on at midnight. They wake up to brewed coffee.
I am decidedly behind the times downstairs. I have never programmed a damn thing nor opened an instruction manual (I’m not boasting about this). I’m basically settled somewhere in the early eighties – I was excited when our new (now 35 year old) house came with an electric garage door opener.
I’m not exactly techno challenged as much as I am techno lazy – I don’t care to learn how to program anything. Aside from my Kitchenaide (who I call Mavis) I don’t generally name my appliances or vehicles. Vader and Gus and the memory of Wild Thing live up the stairs in a galaxy far, far away.