Right now, I’m all about the robots.
I’ve never been much of a sci-fi fan, so the much-imagined futureworld of automatons and flying cars never held much appeal for me, other than a brief fascination with The Jetsons when I was about 8 years old. As far as artificial intelligence and other advanced technologies go … well, I don’t even know how to text-message properly, if that tells you anything. But recently, my interest has been piqued by a handful of decidedly nonsentient beings bearing an ever-so-slight resemblance to Mr. Roboto.
It all began with Scooba.
The robotic floor-scrubbing device is a kissing cousin to the better-known Roomba vacuum cleaner. But while Roomba’s tricks are limited to sweeping up debris from the floor and scaring the bejeezus out of any cats who happen to be wandering by, Scooba one-ups its predecessor by doing the oh-so-dirty work of mopping up grubby spills and ground-in floor grime.
Given my absolute distaste for the drudgery of housework in general and mopping in particular, the $230 I shelled out for Scooba (thanks, Woot!) seemed a small price to pay to keep my floors spic and span with minimal effort on my part. As soon as I filled Scooba’s tank with the pleasantly scented cleaning solution and set him off whirring across my woefully neglected kitchen floor, I was hooked. Drips from my son’s juice boxes, splatters from the previous evening’s spaghetti supper, a dried trail of spilled coffee from my husband’s unsuccessful attempt to remove the lid from his travel mug with one hand: It all disappeared under Scooba’s cheerfully rotating brushes. After watching the little guy work for a few minutes, I retired to the den to watch Survivor. Less than an hour later, I had seen another hapless castway get booted off the island and my kitchen floor was clean enough to snack from. Life was good.
A few weeks later I was able to take another mechanized gizmo for a spin. My best friend came to town with his two children, one of whom had brought her newest toy, a robotic dog. Unlike Sony’s snazzy (but painfully expensive) Aibo, this playful pup was affordable, furry and lifelike enough to make me do a double take when I spied it from across the room.
“Isn’t that kinda creepy?” I asked my friend as we watched his daughter and my son take turns scratching the robot’s electronic belly. “She doesn’t think so,” he said. “Besides, I’ll take a creepy fake puppy over an adorable but demanding real puppy any day.”
Like a real dog, “Scamps” — part of Hasbro’s FurReal Friends line of interactive stuffed animals — barks and does tricks on command. Unlike a real dog, he never has to be walked, doesn’t require expensive visits to the vet and won’t poop on the rug. And while the battery-operated playmate can’t compete with a real pooch in the ever-charming field of licking your child’s face, he also won’t force you to explain to a sobbing 2-year-old why Mr. Scamps went to that big pet store in the sky after tunneling under the back fence. Keep plugging in the Duracells and this dog’s life will last indefinitely, allowing you to postpone the difficult “circle of life” discussion until your little one is old enough to appreciate its nuances.
So, OK, I’m sold. If Mommy can have a robot mop, The Boy certainly deserves a robot dog — especially since the flesh-and-blood cats that currently share our home haven’t exactly warmed up to his rambunctious and often-sticky toddler charms. I’m sure in his eyes any pet that doesn’t run away and hide under the bed is a good pet, breathing or not, so Scamps is on the Christmas list.
And now that I’m feeling so warm and fuzzy toward inanimate objects, I’m keeping an eye out for a consumer version of the new “winebot” prototype designed by researchers at NEC System Technologies and Mie University. This mechanical sommelier uses an infrared spectrometer to identify dozens of wines by their chemical composition. The winebot then announces the varietal, along with some tasting characteristics (for example, a “full-bodied cabernet sauvignon” or a “buttery chardonnay”) and even recommends some food-pairing choices.
Unfortunately for you early-adopting oenophiles, the 2-foot-tall winebot isn’t actually on the market yet. Even if it were, in its current incarnation it would cost tens of thousands of dollars, which seems a bit excessive for what is, essentially, a way to have R2D2 tell you that your two-buck chuck tastes like Welch’s Grape Juice with a wood-chip chaser.
But now that I’ve embraced the idea of better living through robotics, I’m ready to step boldly into this brave new world. I’m anxiously awaiting the day that someone invents an animatronic helper monkey that can cook a four-course dinner and decant the cabernet while simultaneously folding the laundry with his tail. If he does windows, I promise I’ll be first in line, even if I have to sell my hovercraft to afford it.
Every other week, Say-so brings random musings and commentary on popular culture to Break Room.
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