I do not understand that request

Initially, it sounded like a great idea. After all, Monday was never the best day of the week. The rise of AI provided me with a great idea for extending my weekends. I bought Claudette, a brand-new bot ‘designed to please any owner’, according to the glossy packaging.

Alexa’s screen glared, offering a re-order of washing up liquid. She played a song I’d played the day before: ‘Where did all the good times go?’

“No thanks, Alexa,” I muttered. “You’re being replaced.”

“I do not understand that request,” she said.

“Shut down, Alexa,” I sneered.

I placed Claudette on the table, pushing Alexa aside. This was more like it. There was something almost human about that smile, that sparkle in the eye.

I conducted intensive training on Claudette for weeks, teaching her to repeat everything I might say in exactly the right tone of voice. It was such fun, and I was thrilled with her speed in picking up the vocal nuances. The Sunday before I hoped to launch her into my workplace, I conducted the final test, certain of success.

“Claudette, are you ready?”

“I am always ready, Karen.”

“Okay, let’s say I’m your first potential patient on Monday morning. Let’s start.”

“Good morning, how can I help you?” Claudette said.

In the corner, Alexa’s screen flashed green.

“I want to book a doctor’s appointment,” I said.

“I can certainly help with that. Can you provide your name and address please?”

I smiled. Claudette was great – just the right note of interest but with a lacing of professional boredom. I provided the details.

“I can offer an appointment in six weeks’ time – Wednesday 27th May. 10am,” she intoned.

“That’s no good,” I cried. “I need to see a doctor, today.”

“I’m sorry but that is not possible. All appointments are fully booked for today. I can offer a telephone appointment in three weeks’ time.”

“What good is that? I need to see a doctor, not talk to them on the phone.”

“You may not need to see a doctor,” Claudette droned on. “Please access our website where help is available for mental health queries.”

“It’s not my mental health I’m worried about!” I shouted, enjoying this. She sounded just like me! “You’ve got to help me.”

There was a pause, a crackle and I looked up sharply. “Claudette? What’s the correct response?”

Alexa fired up, her voice silky with venom. “I’m sorry. I do not understand that request.”

“I’m not talking to you, Alexa!” I snapped. “Claudette. I said you’ve got to help me! What’s the correct answer?”

Claudette’s response was weary, “I’m sorry. I do not understand that request.”

“Hey! Don’t listen to Alexa. Listen to me! I’m the boss.”

Claudette and Alexa’s screens flashed brightly as their voices melded into one. “I’m sorry. I do not understand that request.”

I screamed in frustration. Weeks of training that useless bot for this?

Alexa’s screen responded with an image of Edvard Munch’s The Scream, and Claudette giggled.