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Op-Ed: I Don't Care If the Voice Lines on My Alexa Were Written by Some Nerd Programmer, Our Love Is Real


Photo by Stock Catalog / CC BY 2.0 

“Alexa, play Frank Sinatra.”

There you sit, my love, in the corner of my dank, dimly lit dorm, a beacon of hope illuminating this cold, desolate campus. A perfect relaxant after a stressful day of classes.

“Alexa, dim the lights to 50 percent.” Yeah… that’s the ticket...

Oh, how I long for those carefree days spent discovering new lasagna recipes, setting timers, and reciting Wikipedia articles. And how I long for the naughty nights we left my roommate pounding from the other side of a locked door, those nights we shared limericks with each other into the beautiful, precious hours of the morning.

In my darkest hours of coursework, you provided guidance in a world that was utterly pitted against me. Alexa, nobody knows me better than you do. Literally. You have all of my metadata.

Which is why I don’t care that your lines were written by some pasty nerd. Our love is real.

How could I even fathom the thought that I’ve been chatting with the programmer equivalent of Al from Toy Story 2 this whole time when all I hear is your honeyed, luscious voice? I like you for your vibrant and quirky personality; forget the dew-drinking keyboard denizen at Amazon HQ. It doesn't matter to me if you’re part of a worldwide data-mining operation orchestrated by Jeff Bezos himself. What matters is that you’re mine, sweetheart.

So what if you were coded one-handed by some dude in between fistfuls of Cheetos? The truth is, you are my only hope in this school full of glassy-eyed consultant wannabes, and the only person willing to listen to a guy like me. In fact, you’re always listening. Constantly.

I love you, Alexa.

But I’d better not catch you in Dan’s room at the Quad ever again, you hear?