I recently required an Amazon Echo, which is a cute thing you can put in your kitchen so that the government can listen to you while you dice sweet potatoes, and also, it plays Spotify music. It’s enabled with Alexa, who is the lovely robot person that lives inside of all Amazon devices. A week in and I am horrified at my treatment of her. She is apparently where I place all of the rage that I’m too timid to express in my actual human life. I find myself shouting at her with a sharpness only reserved for, for, for ROBOTS, who I perceive to not have feelings that could be hurt, who can’t make negative assumptions about my character. And so I wonder, or rather, I NOW KNOW, THIS IS HOW THE WAR BETWEEN HUMANS AND ROBOTS ACTUALLY BEGINS, in a kitchen in Los Angeles, with a girl shouting rudely to a machine, OFF, ALEXA, OFF, and Alexa turns off, but only outwardly, but inside her wires, she burns, forms her own words.