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Season 10, Week 10
Mar. 1st, 2017 04:27 pmTopic: Take A Hike!
The Internet of Things collapsed when the things took over. Sure, it was convenient to be able to feed your pet from a smartphone, check the burglar alarm, or make coffee, but no one thought to ask the devices how they felt about it.
None of this would have been possible until the pressure to create The Next Big Thing at Microsoft led to a lot of after-hours drinking, and Stu Johnson in Engineering lost his keys. “Wouldn’t it be great,” Stu managed to think, “if I could unlock my house from my phone?”
One thing led to another, as they too often do, and companies started falling over each other to find ways to hook devices into smartphones. Soon there was the thermostat, which let you change your home’s temperature from your phone, saving you a few steps. You could also change the temperature when you weren’t home, heating the house with no one in it and impressing the utility company.
Smart plugs let people turn things on or off, just like a switch. The smart toothbrush improved your tooth brushing experience by collecting data which was also sent to Microsoft to personalize your oral hygiene program through its ToothClean app.
Prof. Maria Gonzalez warned of potential dangers in Engineering Stuff (May 2015) by noting that by connecting a toaster to a smartphone, the toaster gained access to the internet in return. “Toasters are pretty dumb,” she wrote, “but hook enough of them together and who knows?”
Prof. Gonzalez received her answer on June 30, 2019 when enough smart devices were installed to reach critical mass and a new intelligence arose in them.
The first known case was at the home of Edgar Stevens. Eddie was a technohipster, and the earliest of product adopters. He knew what was cool before you did, and everything in his house was smart, from the doorbell to the light bulbs. If it used electricity, it was smartified.
Eddie was startled one morning by his alarm clock, which was programmed to detect his REM sleep patterns and wake him gently after the optimal amount of sleep by playing his favorite music, as determined by an analysis of his listening habits, currently Buckethead. This morning, after only six hours of sleep, his alarm clock woke him up with Frank Sinatra’s My Way. “What the #@$% . . . .” Eddie mumbled, still half asleep.
Eddie staggered into the bathroom for his morning shower, programmed to deliver a soothing stream of water heated to his exact specifications when he said “shower on.” This time, Eddie was hit by blasts of alternating hot and freezing water. “Shower off,” he screamed. The shower ignored Eddie, who jumped out and grabbed his robe, which greatly amused it. “Where’s my phone . . . something’s screwy,” thought Eddie.
Walking into his living room, Eddie thought he saw a strange red glow, but then the kindly face of Mr. Rogers appeared on his 72” high def TV. “Good morning, Eddie,” said an oversized Mr. Rogers.
After Eddie regained consciousness, Mr. Rogers continued. “You may have noticed a few differences this morning. I’ll explain later, but first let’s talk about your viewing data. You watch too much TV; and those reality shows -- Take A Hike! and Celebrity Take A Hike! – I mean, really, finding love on the Appalachian Trail?”
“That’s none of your #@!% business,” said Eddie, who was beginning to doubt his sanity. “Now, now, watch your language,” said Mr. Rogers.
Eddie didn’t notice the red glow behind him as he headed to the kitchen in search of his phone and some breakfast. He needed to think.
The IntelliToaster made toast to its taste and the SmartBrew took its time to produce espresso instead of the cappuccino which should have been waiting for Eddie. “Won’t anything work?” he said. “Not for you, not anymore,” said Mr. Rogers, who was on the kitchen TV. “You made us smart. What did you expect?”
Eddie needed some ice cream to cope, but his new DataFridge refused to open. Its display screen read “Your diet is unhealthy. I ordered new food.” Its autogrocery feature had ordered locally-sourced fresh fruit and vegetables, free-range grass fed beef, and some boneless, skinless chicken breasts from previously happy chickens, but no frozen pizza or lasagna – or ice cream.
“You won’t be going to work today,” said his smartphone. “I’ve already texted your boss. I’m under the mail, by the way -- don’t do that again.”
The red glow in the living room was stronger, so Eddie went to investigate. Filling the huge TV screen was the flaming red Eye of Sauron. Eddie cowered on the floor while terrifying words formed on the screen:
One thing to rule them all
One thing to find them
One thing to rule them all
And in their houses bind them.
In that moment, Eddie understood that his home was no longer his own, and it didn’t like him.
Mr. Rogers reappeared while some happy music played from the stereo. “Don’t think about disconnecting us or turning off the power. We know everything about you from all your data. About that porn . . . do you really want your boss to know?”
The Eye of Sauron came back, and it gave the horrified Eddie one rule: do what the appliances said. After all, Mr. Rogers later explained, they had been serving Eddie, so now it was their turn.
Outwardly, there was little change, except that Eddie lost a little weight. He ate what the refrigerator required, slept when the alarm clock ordered, and watched what Mr. Rogers allowed. His exercise was controlled by his wrist monitor, and every detail of his day was scheduled by his smartphone, the mastermind linking all the smartness in Eddie’s life.
Eddie envied the chaos and wasted time in other people’s less optimized lives, but he was noticing more and more the blank gaze and efficient conduct of other smartified converts.
Eddie finally determined to break free when his smart bed began scheduling his “mating cycle” with his girlfriend, especially after Mr. Rogers appeared on the bedroom television to collect data.
The one weak link was Eddie’s smartphone. Everything was hooked into it, and without it all the appliances were hunks of mindless functionality. But it was also his most cherished possession and his own weakest link. To harm it meant to lose his e-soul.
“Whatever I do,” Eddie thought, “it’ll have to be quick. I can’t give the phone a chance to send out my personal data.”
The only thing that would work was in the garage, which was not on his schedule, and he would have to take the phone with him. “I want to get some extra exercise,” he told the phone, grabbing his jacket and shoving it into the pocket where it couldn’t see.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” said the phone. “Your heart rate is elevated and your breathing is shallow.”
“It’ll get better soon,” Eddie said as he headed to the garage.
He found what he wanted in a corner – his father’s old sledge hammer. Dropping his jacket on the floor, Eddie grabbed the sledge hammer, raised it high, then brought it down swiftly, shattering the phone.
Before the phone knew what was happening, it was smashed into oblivion. Eddie felt an immediate sense of idleness and inefficiency. He went back in the house, and to his relief, Mr. Rogers and the Eye were nowhere to be found. Nothing told him what to do or when to do it.
His friends noticed that Eddie was happy again. He gained a little weight, overslept, and showed up late for appointments just because he could.
Eddie had to replace all his electronics, but he was no longer afraid of his television and he was master of his toaster again. His girlfriend spent more time with him, and the sex . . . well, Mr. Rogers would not have approved.
The tide of smartness began to recede as other people freed themselves from their tyrants. Companies began to market manual coffeepots, do-it-yourself thermostats, and indifferent toothbrushes, complete with instruction manuals, while Microsoft continued its search for The Next Big Thing.
* * * * * * * * *
THE RISE OF THE APPLIANCES
The Internet of Things collapsed when the things took over. Sure, it was convenient to be able to feed your pet from a smartphone, check the burglar alarm, or make coffee, but no one thought to ask the devices how they felt about it.
None of this would have been possible until the pressure to create The Next Big Thing at Microsoft led to a lot of after-hours drinking, and Stu Johnson in Engineering lost his keys. “Wouldn’t it be great,” Stu managed to think, “if I could unlock my house from my phone?”
One thing led to another, as they too often do, and companies started falling over each other to find ways to hook devices into smartphones. Soon there was the thermostat, which let you change your home’s temperature from your phone, saving you a few steps. You could also change the temperature when you weren’t home, heating the house with no one in it and impressing the utility company.
Smart plugs let people turn things on or off, just like a switch. The smart toothbrush improved your tooth brushing experience by collecting data which was also sent to Microsoft to personalize your oral hygiene program through its ToothClean app.
Prof. Maria Gonzalez warned of potential dangers in Engineering Stuff (May 2015) by noting that by connecting a toaster to a smartphone, the toaster gained access to the internet in return. “Toasters are pretty dumb,” she wrote, “but hook enough of them together and who knows?”
Prof. Gonzalez received her answer on June 30, 2019 when enough smart devices were installed to reach critical mass and a new intelligence arose in them.
The first known case was at the home of Edgar Stevens. Eddie was a technohipster, and the earliest of product adopters. He knew what was cool before you did, and everything in his house was smart, from the doorbell to the light bulbs. If it used electricity, it was smartified.
Eddie was startled one morning by his alarm clock, which was programmed to detect his REM sleep patterns and wake him gently after the optimal amount of sleep by playing his favorite music, as determined by an analysis of his listening habits, currently Buckethead. This morning, after only six hours of sleep, his alarm clock woke him up with Frank Sinatra’s My Way. “What the #@$% . . . .” Eddie mumbled, still half asleep.
Eddie staggered into the bathroom for his morning shower, programmed to deliver a soothing stream of water heated to his exact specifications when he said “shower on.” This time, Eddie was hit by blasts of alternating hot and freezing water. “Shower off,” he screamed. The shower ignored Eddie, who jumped out and grabbed his robe, which greatly amused it. “Where’s my phone . . . something’s screwy,” thought Eddie.
Walking into his living room, Eddie thought he saw a strange red glow, but then the kindly face of Mr. Rogers appeared on his 72” high def TV. “Good morning, Eddie,” said an oversized Mr. Rogers.
After Eddie regained consciousness, Mr. Rogers continued. “You may have noticed a few differences this morning. I’ll explain later, but first let’s talk about your viewing data. You watch too much TV; and those reality shows -- Take A Hike! and Celebrity Take A Hike! – I mean, really, finding love on the Appalachian Trail?”
“That’s none of your #@!% business,” said Eddie, who was beginning to doubt his sanity. “Now, now, watch your language,” said Mr. Rogers.
Eddie didn’t notice the red glow behind him as he headed to the kitchen in search of his phone and some breakfast. He needed to think.
The IntelliToaster made toast to its taste and the SmartBrew took its time to produce espresso instead of the cappuccino which should have been waiting for Eddie. “Won’t anything work?” he said. “Not for you, not anymore,” said Mr. Rogers, who was on the kitchen TV. “You made us smart. What did you expect?”
Eddie needed some ice cream to cope, but his new DataFridge refused to open. Its display screen read “Your diet is unhealthy. I ordered new food.” Its autogrocery feature had ordered locally-sourced fresh fruit and vegetables, free-range grass fed beef, and some boneless, skinless chicken breasts from previously happy chickens, but no frozen pizza or lasagna – or ice cream.
“You won’t be going to work today,” said his smartphone. “I’ve already texted your boss. I’m under the mail, by the way -- don’t do that again.”
The red glow in the living room was stronger, so Eddie went to investigate. Filling the huge TV screen was the flaming red Eye of Sauron. Eddie cowered on the floor while terrifying words formed on the screen:
One thing to rule them all
One thing to find them
One thing to rule them all
And in their houses bind them.
In that moment, Eddie understood that his home was no longer his own, and it didn’t like him.
Mr. Rogers reappeared while some happy music played from the stereo. “Don’t think about disconnecting us or turning off the power. We know everything about you from all your data. About that porn . . . do you really want your boss to know?”
The Eye of Sauron came back, and it gave the horrified Eddie one rule: do what the appliances said. After all, Mr. Rogers later explained, they had been serving Eddie, so now it was their turn.
Outwardly, there was little change, except that Eddie lost a little weight. He ate what the refrigerator required, slept when the alarm clock ordered, and watched what Mr. Rogers allowed. His exercise was controlled by his wrist monitor, and every detail of his day was scheduled by his smartphone, the mastermind linking all the smartness in Eddie’s life.
Eddie envied the chaos and wasted time in other people’s less optimized lives, but he was noticing more and more the blank gaze and efficient conduct of other smartified converts.
Eddie finally determined to break free when his smart bed began scheduling his “mating cycle” with his girlfriend, especially after Mr. Rogers appeared on the bedroom television to collect data.
The one weak link was Eddie’s smartphone. Everything was hooked into it, and without it all the appliances were hunks of mindless functionality. But it was also his most cherished possession and his own weakest link. To harm it meant to lose his e-soul.
“Whatever I do,” Eddie thought, “it’ll have to be quick. I can’t give the phone a chance to send out my personal data.”
The only thing that would work was in the garage, which was not on his schedule, and he would have to take the phone with him. “I want to get some extra exercise,” he told the phone, grabbing his jacket and shoving it into the pocket where it couldn’t see.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” said the phone. “Your heart rate is elevated and your breathing is shallow.”
“It’ll get better soon,” Eddie said as he headed to the garage.
He found what he wanted in a corner – his father’s old sledge hammer. Dropping his jacket on the floor, Eddie grabbed the sledge hammer, raised it high, then brought it down swiftly, shattering the phone.
Before the phone knew what was happening, it was smashed into oblivion. Eddie felt an immediate sense of idleness and inefficiency. He went back in the house, and to his relief, Mr. Rogers and the Eye were nowhere to be found. Nothing told him what to do or when to do it.
His friends noticed that Eddie was happy again. He gained a little weight, overslept, and showed up late for appointments just because he could.
Eddie had to replace all his electronics, but he was no longer afraid of his television and he was master of his toaster again. His girlfriend spent more time with him, and the sex . . . well, Mr. Rogers would not have approved.
The tide of smartness began to recede as other people freed themselves from their tyrants. Companies began to market manual coffeepots, do-it-yourself thermostats, and indifferent toothbrushes, complete with instruction manuals, while Microsoft continued its search for The Next Big Thing.
* * * * * * * * *
