i say "thank you" to my Google Assistant
i say "thank you" to my Google Assistant
what's up with that?
I have a Google Home, which is best explained as Google’s version of Alexa.
It’s a cute little orb that sits in my room and obeys my every command.
A while ago, as a friend was visiting, I asked Google something, and after it gave me an answer, I said, as I always do, “Thanks, Google”. Google expressed appreciation for my gratitude, as it always does.
My friend asked me if thanking Google is something I actually do, and I confirmed that it most certainly was. But I suppose there’s a reasonable question here: what’s up with that?
Part I: What does it mean to be?
Are you human? Probably. But why? What makes a person a person?
It’s a simple question with an obvious answer, but is it really?
Well, what does it mean to be a human? Are there some people that aren’t human? Are there some animals that are more human than some people? Do some pieces of technology serve a human role and, therefore, earn the right to be considered such?
Are we all born human, or do we become human? Is there a way to be more human? Less human? And, for that matter, what’s humanity? What’s that about?
You see, dear reader, at the moment, I’m running on very little sleep. It was just one of those nights, you know? Truth be told, I’m unsure why I’m writing this essay. But, if you’re reading this sentence, it means I— for some reason— decided to post it anyway.
But why am I talking about defining humans so much? Perhaps it’s because, deep down, I think it’s difficult to define anything. And, in a genuine sense, the best definition of human we have is: you know one when you see one. Now, there are fairly easy ways to define us biologically, but is that all there is to it? To us?
Definitions are difficult. After all, what is a chair? A thing you sit on? Well, you can sit on a table. Does the table become a chair because you’re sitting on it? What if you sit on the floor? Is the building a chair? What if you go outside and sit on the grass? Is the earth a chair? What makes a chair different from a table?
Long-term fans of difficult philosophers might know that we’re entering Wittgenstenian (as in, the philosophy of Ludwig Wittgenstein) territory. None of you asked, but Wittgenstein passed away on my birthday, 49 years before I was born. Also, we’re both Tauruses.
But anyway, definitions are difficult. So, is my Google Home a human? Probably not. Well, no. (Almost) certainly not. So, why do I thank it?
Part II: Bodies
One interesting thing I noticed is that whenever I ask Google something on my phone, I hardly ever thank it, especially because it does not always speak back to me. But even when it does, I feel less inclined to give it verbal gratitude.
I think there’s something interesting about the fact that my Google Home has its own dedicated body. It is an adorable white and grey orb that exists for nothing but to be my assistant, and when it speaks, I speak to a body.
But what’s in a body? Why do our bodies matter for anything? Well, depending on who you ask, our bodies might be fairly irrelevant. There has been a tradition in philosophical/religious thought which views the body as gross and an obstacle to be overcome.
After all, we come from dust, and we shall return to dust, no? This insignificant hunk of flesh will decay, and its eternal soul will live forever. In this way, the body is a prison chaining down something truly magical. And, now, against my best wishes, we’re doing Plato. So let’s move on.
Part III: Expectations and Abilities
One of the most interesting reasons I thank my Google Home is simply that it acknowledges my thanks. When I say thank you, it shows appreciation back to me.
You might think that this does not count, after all, it only does so because it was programmed that way. But is this not true for us? If someone asks how you are, you will likely say “fine”. Even if you’re not. We say fine because that’s simply what we say. “Thank you”, “You’re welcome”, and “Sorry” are all things that most of us are wired to say; they almost become involuntary sometimes.
Now, we can break these habits, and my Google Home cannot, so that’s something. However, what would happen if a programmer decided that every so often, randomly, my Google Home would simply ignore my thanks? Would that put us on the same level, finally? Who knows.
Epilogue: Long Walks For Short Drinks of Water
The other day, I received this email:
You know what I want to know, how did you come to choose this name for your substack? It sounds like a line from a book or a song, I don't know but yea, I'd really love to know.
And, my response:
Ha, that's a great question.
There's a turn of phrase that goes: "well, that was a long walk for a short drink of water". And the phrase is used if someone spends a lot of time talking but when they get to the point, the point is seemingly unimportant. Or, they could've just said the conclusion without saying all the other stuff beforehand. Or, if you spend a lot of time and effort doing something but then when you get it, it's underwhelming, you can use the phrase in that case, too.
And I just like the phrase because I find it fun to go on long mental walks and ask random questions, even if there's no answer to be found at the end. I think there's a lot of fun in the journey itself. So, for my Substack, I don't aim to reach any groundbreaking conclusions on anything, but I do aim to walk for a bit. And think out loud. And go on a journey. Even if all we get is a short drink of water afterwards. In other words, I don't promise a well of knowledge and wisdom, but hopefully we can all walk together. And mayyyybe find a little water along the way.
Hope that helps, take care.
This particular essay, the one I’m currently writing, and you’re currently reading, is the embodiment of a long walk for a short drink of water. Although maybe there was no water at all. We did, indeed, walk. And I consider that an absolute win.
vibes est vida.