One evening, Mikhail decided to show Dilyara how convenient it was to talk to a smart speaker.
“Turn on the light,” he said.
The lamp lit up. Pai looked at the lamp, then at Mikhail. Until then, he had believed Dilyara alone was in charge of household miracles: opening doors, finding lost things and knowing where the soft cushion had gone.
“And now, quieter,” Mikhail asked.
The music became barely audible. Pai grew alert. The little round thing followed commands without receiving a single “good job.” A suspicious compensation system.
Pai approached and sat in front of the speaker. It was silent. He tilted his head. The speaker remained silent. So Pai gave Dilyara the very look that usually makes humans find a moment for petting.
Dilyara crouched beside him and scratched behind his ear.
“See?” she said to Mikhail. “Pai has voice control too. Just without the voice.”
Mikhail decided to continue the demonstration:
“Remind me to take a break in five minutes.”
Five minutes later, the speaker faithfully reminded him. But the break was already in its fourth minute: Pai was lying beside Dilyara, and Mikhail was stroking his back.
“So he's faster than technology,” Dilyara observed.
“His notifications are just more persuasive.”
The next morning, Mikhail asked the speaker for the weather forecast. Pai immediately went to the door and looked at him.
“I only asked whether it was going to rain!”
Pai didn't argue. In a smart home, everyone has a job: the speaker reports what's happening outside, and Pai investigates why the humans are still inside.
By evening, the responsibilities were settled. The speaker got lighting, music and the timer. Pai got attention, affection and supervision of breaks.
As usual, management took on the hardest work.