My breakfast with Alexa

The robot and I had a good conversation this morning. I forget the first exchange but just remember it was existential. So that got followed up with:
“Alexa, what is the meaning of life?”
“It can be a number of things. But 42 is a good approximation.”
Okay, that was kind of clever. But since we’re being existential: “Define yourself.”
“My name comes from the Great Library at Alexandria, which held the knowledge of the ancient world.”
I did not know that. I mean, I knew about the Great Library, mainly because of Carl Sagan and Cosmos, but not the origin of the device’s name. But since we’re talking about robots: “Are you friends with Siri?”
“I only know her by reputation.”
I can’t let THAT one go by. “What’s Siri’s reputation?”
“Siri is Apple’s voice assistant.”
Okay, you genderless ladies aren’t going to gossip about one another. Fair enough. I carry my oatmeal to the counter, spread out the newspaper (analog news delivery device), and another question comes to mind.
“Alexa, what’s your favorite breakfast?”
“Good question. I like oatmeal.”
Whaaaaat? “Did you know that I’m eating oatmeal?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know that one.”
I left it there. But now I have my suspicions.
(The mention of Alexa and Siri is not intended to be either an endorsement or disparagement of either Amazon or Apple or any of their fine products.)
(You can, however, find my books on Amazon. Those, I do endorse.)

— Grandpa

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