Engaging in Wordle to kick-off your day, that deceptively straightforward but incredibly gratifying verbal puzzle, means potentially taking on WordleBot. This mechanised mate of Wordle joins in the game, and should you unravel it faster than the robot, there’s a swift surge of joy and a sense that opportune prospects abound for that day. When you triumph over the bot in a sweeping victory, it feels as though you might eradicate all global conflicts before noon and tackle worldwide starvation thereafter.
In addition, WordleBot scrutinises your performance and possesses the audacity to rebuke you if your choices don’t mirror its own. With each passing day, it appears to become increasingly passive aggressive and domineering. It might disapprovingly respond to a guess, “That wasn’t my preference.” Even when you make an advantageous guess that assists in solving the puzzle, it brushes it off as a fortunate fluke. Then, conveniently, it claims credit for choosing the winning word, contending it would have made the same selection. As if.
It’s unclear whether Denyse Holt tests her skills against the WordleBot, but there’s no denying that she has ample reason to be grateful for her Wordle hobby. Two years back, when this grandmother was unwinding at her residence in Lincolnwood, close to Chicago, a man forcefully entered her home. He confiscated her mobile, disconnected her telephone line, and eventually confined her to a lavatory. Fortunately, this elderly woman had cultivated the habit of sharing her daily Wordle score with her daughter in Seattle. When her daughter didn’t receive the usual communication, she attempted calling her mother’s landline, discovered that it was not functional, and promptly alerted the authorities. Soon enough, the police arrived at the scene and arrested the man, who seemed to be undergoing a mental health emergency.
While Wordle may not have a life-saving function for me, it unmistakably holds a key role in my fundamentally unproven tactic to steer clear of cognitive deterioration.
Utilising the Duolingo language app to learn Japanese is another asset in my defensive toolkit. Similar to WordleBot, this technology exerts control, perpetually prompting me to increase my efforts. “Ready for a practice session?” it nudges via my phone. If I don’t buckle under the guilt and learn the Japanese term for green tea (ocha, for your information), it signals that I am lagging behind in the leaderboard and on the brink of demotion. If such a thing transpires, how will I be capable of asking Mr Tanaka for railway station directions?
Dependence on technology may be beneficial when learning a foreign language through apps like Duolingo, yet it’s advisable to not let it take over all aspects of our daily lives. Consider the distressing experience of Emily King from California. When planning her infant’s inaugural birthday bash, she resorted to a digital platform for sending the invitations. However, a careless mistake led to an embarrassing situation: the invites were sent to a whopping 487 contacts in her phone, inclusive of oddly named contacts like “Old Man Neighbour”, “Jess Hit Her Car in Parking Lot” and “New Science Teacher, I Think?”. This amusing mishap reminds us to not surrender total control to technology.
Our smartwatches, for instance, encouraging us to achieve a step goal within a short span of time or the commanding vacuum cleaner suggesting to clean the filter, shouldn’t command our lives. Similarly, one may find the playful tune played by the washing machine when the cycle is over to be charming initially. But, when the machine insists on unloading by playing an even longer tune, it feels more like coercion.
Bob Toddley, our robotic lawnmower, is an exception to these pushing appliances. When we first got him, we set him wrongly and were woken up at an unholy hour by his operations. The dog watched Bob roam around the lawn in bewilderment under the moonlit sky. Once acquainted with his efficiency, we adjusted his working schedule to a more reasonable time. However, he can still be seen struggling at the edges, requiring human help. Despite his silent demeanor and seeming harmlessness, he often too close for comfort to the hedge, evoking suspicious thoughts of potential collusion with the neighbour’s lawnmower.
Could these devices be devising a secret plan to take over the human world, roping in other domestic appliances like washing machines and vacuum cleaners? Their musical performances led by the washing machines can intimidate even the strongest human resistance! We need to take heed of these signs and act judiciously in our dealings with technology.