A war is brewing, and I fear we may be on the losing side. This war has been the subject of books and films for decades, a common topic instilling fear in some and bringing geeky delight to the sci-fi fanatics among us. Yes, this is the war of the humans and the machines.
However, I believe this ensuing conflict is vastly different and more deeply sinister than anyone has thus far portrayed it. It is not about mere violence, the relative powerlessness of the individual person, or the potential destruction of humanity. It is not about the rise of artificial intelligence or the perfection of mechanical precision and strength. It is a war waged in subtle battles in the most mundane of our daily activities. It is a fight in which we engage consciously, and yet rarely do we fathom the impending doom toward which we rapidly spiral.
Today I, along with my new flatmates, made a quick visit to Home Depot to purchase a few basic household items for the apartment into which we have just moved. Having been trained in the art of efficiency and definitive decision-making by our 2-hour entrenchment in Costco, we split up, making relatively quick work of our task. Plunger, trash cans, and toilet bowl scrubber in hand, we proceeded to check out, only to find that the automated checkers were the sole option available. Unfazed, we innocently began scanning our items and placing them on the bagging rack. ”How convenient,” I thought to myself, excited that I could be responsible for my check out experience rather than submitting myself to the uncertainties of some fallible, human cashier. Unbeknownst to me, the clairvoyant machine did not exist for my benefit.
I scanned the plunger and placed it on the rack. ”We don’t need to bag these things, do we?” my roommate asked. I didn’t see any reason to, so he proceeded to remove the plunger from the rack. Instantly the machine retaliated, speaking in an authoritarian female voice, “item removed from bagging counter; please replace.” The electronic voice was irresistible. We immediately replaced the plunger. However, the machine refused to acknowledge our rapid repentance. The warning continued flashing on the screen as the voice mocked us. We tried removing the plunger again, replacing it again. No avail. Frustration began mounting within our hearts. Our audible expressions of irritation drew the contemptuous glances of nearby customers. We made further attempts and then gave up. We could not even cancel our session. We quickly moved to a different station, hoping no one would notice.
At first things went smoothly. Then, after several items, the same problem occurred. ”Unknown item placed on bagging counter; please remove,” came the cold voice of the enemy. We tried, but nothing worked. No amount of removing and replacing could satisfy this foul contraption. The screen continued flashing, promising, threatening the imminent arrival of some apparently invisible and unhelpful attendant who would aid us in our struggle. We eagerly awaited help from a living, breathing human being, despite the shame we would suffer from revealing our ineptitude. No attendant ever came.
We persevered. We pleaded. We begged and then cursed, and then begged some more. I nearly dropped to my knees in pious humility to gain the mercy of this destiny-controlling apparatus. But my pride was too strong. ”Just bag the items,” I breathed harshly to my impatient roommate. ”Just play by the rules and we’ll get out of here.” So we bagged. At first this sacrifice appeased this supreme being. And then it all fell apart, again.
By now you are all wondering how we escaped this formidable predicament. Well, I’m not really sure. We waited. And waited. And waited some more. And long last the machine grew weary of its bullying games and allowed us to scan all our items. After a couple more minutes it even allowed us to pay. After ten exasperating minutes of simply trying to purchase six innocuous items, the machine let us go. But it took its toll.
These machines are not out to do us extraordinary violence. We should not fear the brute strength of these mechanical and electronic beings. Instead we must be vigilant of their plots of subterfuge and frustration, picking at our vulnerable wounds of impatience and need for efficiency. They know why they were created. They know we have made them to expedite the menial tasks that occupy too much of our time. They know we desire convenience and speed. And it is precisely these areas at which they strike most mercilessly. Be vigilant my friends, and let not these machines steal your souls. These machines are not greedy. They know that depriving just minutes from the flurry of our over-scheduled days will be sufficient to secure their victory. Let not your hearts be troubled. This war, though savage, is not over. Will we rise to the challenge, learning new depths of patience and settling for lesser degrees of convenience? We can overcome, but we must be willing to transform our own attitudes.
2 Comments
May 15, 2009 at 7:38 am
Next time, choose the little option not to bag your items and just put them on the floor next to you or have someone hold them. That aside, I’m sorry the machines are out to get you.
July 21, 2009 at 9:28 am
I read this a few weeks ago, and thought it was hilarious. I promptly forgot it, and thus when I went to Ralph’s last night, I spied an open self-checkout and thought “Great! No waiting in line.” I set my groceries down and immediately had a panic attack because I had produce, and I thought “My tomato has no barcode. What do I do?” The nearby worker had to show me. Thank you for doing a service in warning others of this menace. Let’s hope they have better memories than I do.