Wednesday in Al-Ezium

I don’t need an alarm clock. Every morning, I hear the AlEzium mumbler from across the hall. Usually it goes on from 6 a.m. to 8 a.m.

“Alesium, alyssum, allahalla, al-mirorium, STOP!”

Well technology and the hard-of-hearing don’t get along very well. You would need DEEP MIND (or a another sort of quantum computer) to realize that the man who can’t hear worth a damn, and can hardly enunciate a comprehensible sentence is going to have trouble with Alexa.

But they went ahead with the great plan, and a team of engineers came by and with a circular Alexa holder, they drilled holes in the wall and mounted it in each room.

And worse thing of all, they plugged them in.

So I had decided never to talk to these things, because, well I can set an alarm clock, and I don’t need or want my appliances to be smarter than I am.

At first I just left it alone to see what it would do. And it was pre-programmed to remind me to go to breakfast, which I don’t do anymore. I have breakfast in my room.

And then every time there was an activity planned in the activity room it reminded me:

Activity starting in the activity room at 1 pm.

This is a medication reminder.

Alexa, I said, delete all reminders. And so it willingly complied.

All reminders deleted.

Thank you.

Your welcome Alexa replied.

Then I began to reprogram it to be useful. And it is still plugged in.

l’m sure I can Google a book of instructions on re-programming the new entity.

A blue shirt just knocked on the door while I’m writing this and asked if I’m coming up for breakfast. It’s always a different one. I told her, I never go up for breakfast. I have a nice coffee maker and a thousands of K-Cups, and don’t tell anyone but that is my usual breakfast.

But I think that eventually, the Alexa thing will replace the blue shirts. There will be a central Alexa center where one person can check in on each room instead of sending blue shirts around to knock on each door.

That will save millions.

Of course it will only work if the “resident” can hear it, and speak.

At least I know that there isn’t some satanic ritual going on next door. Just an old man who forgets the name Alexa, or can’t pronounce it.

Published by Dave

My name is David Beckerman. I am a fine art photographer working in New York City. Or I was before I had two strokes. I now write from a Nursing Home.

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