My Australian host, who’d been discussing the merits of drowning it in McLaren Vale shiraz, paused mid-wisdom, cleared his throat, and asked:
"What is the capital of Mongolia?"
Before I could pretend I knew but had forgotten, a techy looking cylinder standing on his barbecue bench, spoke back to him.
"The capital of Mongolia is Ulaanbaatar," the gizmo declared.
It took me a moment to gather my wits. I looked askance at this odd new contraption, and wondered if it could be bluffed.
"Actually, Mongolia’s capital is Quing Long Pong," I briskly informed it.
"Spoken backwards, that means The Place of Many Yurts."
But the gadget saw I was talking through my hat. It sat in huffy silence.
"OK — I’m hooked," I told my hosts.
"Tell me about it."
Captain Crockett ordered the thing to read the weather forecast, while Mrs Crockett explained: "It’s a Google Home. Haven’t you poor Kiwis got them?"
It turns out we haven’t. Google Home is a "smart speaker" which costs about $160, and while the Aussies have had them for months, they haven’t yet crossed the ditch. A couple of equivalents are now in our electronics stores, but not the actual Google Home.
This gadget works like a well-trained pup. It sits politely by its bowl until you give a special wake-up order like "Hey Google" or "OK Google." Then its ears prick. But rather than bounding forward to sniff your crotch, it speeds to carry out your instructions — providing they are on the exploding list of tasks linked to your iPhone’s capacities. So — read me the news, play Beethoven’s Fifth, turn on the heat pump, telephone my aunt.
I suppose mistakes are made when people don’t speak clearly, as with the World War 1 colonel who raided the mess kitty after receiving the instruction: "Send three and fourpence, we’re going to a dance." (The story may be apocryphal, but his order began its journey down the ancient field telephone technology as: "Send reinforcements, we’re going to advance.")
Someone will need to hide Donald Trump’s Google Home. If they don’t, civilisation may end next time he invites Stormy Daniels over, puts two doughnuts in the White House microwave, and says: "OK Google, nuke the bastards."
The Crocketts’ Chatterbox particularly tweaked my interest, because back home I’d just bought a slick new portable speaker — and I distinctly remembered the thing spoke to me the moment I switched it on. To my astonishment, it had chirped: "Your battery is charged 80%."
This speaker was the same size and shape as a Google Home but double the price, so maybe it had smart capacities I hadn’t realised. (This is the way of things. When you bought your Smart TV, were you told it could supervise your workouts?)
Back home from Oz, I turned on my speaker, and started with something simple. "Hey Google — Who is Jacinda Ardern?" It said nothing. Nor did it have the other basic life knowledge I requested.
"What is the specific gravity of Emerson’s Pilsner? Who won the 2015 Melbourne Cup?" (Forget the horse, it was the magnificent Michelle Payne — the Cup’s first winning woman jockey).
So — nada, I’d purchased a speaker that hadn’t been educated. Annoyed, I shouted: "Boofhead, play me Kenny Rogers!" And, damnit, just as I was about to turn it off, the cretin creaked into Kenny warbling The Gambler. It seemed that because I had Spotify music on my mobile, it had sent my instructions to my only-slightly-smart speaker. At least I could mouth-order music.
But this lasted less than a week because every few days we plebs accidentally make pocket changes to our phone settings, or the Great God of Updates pronounces them for us. What once worked is replaced by something better that doesn’t. And thus for reasons I can’t unravel, my speaker no longer accepts orders for the military band to kick start the day with Colonel Bogey. The only solution I’m left with may be the party of last resort.
If New Zealand First is genuinely interested in we Southern provincials (techno-duffers, by definition), it would get Shane Jones to do something more useful with his interminable business-bashing. Perhaps their Jacinda Coalition could decree a two-year moratorium on Silicon Valley boffins forcing uninvited upgrades to our software? Silly perhaps, but it wouldn’t be the dumbest deed to emerge from The Beehive. Meanwhile, bring on Google Smarter.
- John Lapsley is an Arrowtown writer.
