It was inevitable, I suppose. At some point I was always going to raise the white flag and succumb. After all, you can only resist for so long. Besides, our fourth anniversary loomed and, according to Wikipedia, such occasions are celebrated with gifts of linen, silk or appliances. If you can find an appliance made of linen and silk, I suppose that would be ideal, but they are few and far between. Next year it’s ‘wood’, which doesn’t sound especially promising, but this year is gizmos and gadgets. These were the heightened circumstances under which I finally relented and bought a robot vacuum cleaner.
It was inevitable, I suppose. At some point I was always going to raise the white flag and succumb. After all, you can only resist for so long. Besides, our fourth anniversary loomed and, according to Wikipedia, such occasions are celebrated with gifts of linen, silk or appliances. If you can find an appliance made of linen and silk, I suppose that would be ideal, but they are few and far between. Next year it’s ‘wood’, which doesn’t sound especially promising, but this year is gizmos and gadgets. These were the heightened circumstances under which I finally relented and bought a robot vacuum cleaner.
The thing about robot vacuum cleaners is that, in every way imaginable, they suck. Indeed, that’s their job. With our anniversary looming, I dutifully trotted off to the appliance store and waited around in the vain hope of some service. I wasn’t sure of its official title but figured it was probably something along the lines of the ‘Sucktastic 2000’, ‘Megatronic Swallow Machine’ or the ‘Dirtinator’ and explained all this to the shop assistant using flamboyant hand gestures to get my point across. She seemed to understand what I was asking for. Having been freed from its box and unleashed in our home, it now lurks like a digital turtle in one corner of the room, feeding on electricity until the moment it decides to spring into action.
The first time it happened, both and I the dog were somewhat startled. It’s often said that animals can sense evil and, in the case of our dog Fozzie, anything that involves food, but it’s rare that she and I both react to things the same way. For example, the dog often goes completely berserk when a bird lands in the backyard, whereas I have thus far been able to maintain my composure. Similarly, I have been known to abandon my serenity when accidentally coming across ‘The Bolt Report’ when, to her credit, our dog remains relatively un-phased.
There was a gentle hum emanating from the living room. It sounded as though the evaporative cooling system had climbed out of the roof and was going for a walk. I took a peak around a doorframe only to see it buzzing back and forth like nobody’s business, sucking up unsuspecting dust and anything I might have left lying around. I’m not sure why I found the sight of it so unsettling. It’s the first time I’ve owned an appliance that does whatever it wants, whenever it likes. I’ve seen 2001: A Space Odyssey and although I can’t pretend that I understood it, I know that computers who think for themselves are nothing but trouble.
If I was suspicious, the dog was even worse; slinking off to the bathroom to lie on the tiles and wait it out. As the mysterious creature rolled around the floor, it did so in a pattern detectable only to itself. Then, after a time, it decided it’d had enough and began the journey back to the charging staIt was inevitable, I suppose. At some point I was always going to raise the white flag and succumb. After all, you can only resist for so long. Besides, our fourth anniversary loomed and, according to Wikipedia, such occasions are celebrated with gifts of linen, silk or appliances. If you can find an appliance made of linen and silk, I suppose that would be ideal, but they are few and far between. Next year it’s ‘wood’, which doesn’t sound especially promising, but this year is gizmos and gadgets. These were the heightened circumstances under which I finally relented and bought a robot vacuum cleaner.
The thing about robot vacuum cleaners is that, in every way imaginable, they suck. Indeed, that’s their job. With our anniversary looming, I dutifully trotted off to the appliance store and waited around in the vain hope of some service. I wasn’t sure of its official title but figured it was probably something along the lines of the ‘Sucktastic 2000’, ‘Megatronic Swallow Machine’ or the ‘Dirtinator’ and explained all this to the shop assistant using flamboyant hand gestures to get my point across. She seemed to understand what I was asking for. Having been freed from its box and unleashed in our home, it now lurks like a digital turtle in one corner of the room, feeding on electricity until the moment it decides to spring into action.
The first time it happened, both and I the dog were somewhat startled. It’s often said that animals can sense evil and, in the case of our dog Fozzie, anything that involves food, but it’s rare that she and I both react to things the same way. For example, the dog often goes completely berserk when a bird lands in the backyard, whereas I have thus far been able to maintain my composure. Similarly, I have been known to abandon my serenity when accidentally coming across ‘The Bolt Report’ when, to her credit, our dog remains relatively un-phased.
There was a gentle hum emanating from the living room. It sounded as though the evaporative cooling system had climbed out of the roof and was going for a walk. I took a peak around a doorframe only to see it buzzing back and forth like nobody’s business, sucking up unsuspecting dust and anything I might have left lying around. I’m not sure why I found the sight of it so unsettling. It’s the first time I’ve owned an appliance that does whatever it wants, whenever it likes. I’ve seen 2001: A Space Odyssey and although I can’t pretend that I understood it, I know that computers who think for themselves are nothing but trouble.
If I was suspicious, the dog was even worse; slinking off to the bathroom to lie on the tiles and wait it out. As the mysterious creature rolled around the floor, it did so in a pattern detectable only to itself. Then, after a time, it decided it’d had enough and began the journey back to the charging station where it promptly fell asleep. There are two ways you can look at this. Either it’s a great technological advance that frees us from the tyranny of regular vacuuming or it’s an artefact of a dystopian future made real. I strongly suspect the latter may be the case. Truth is, I don’t trust the Sucktastic 2000. Not one little bit.
It’s an uneasy feeling. I return home from work each day and I wonder what on earth it’s been up to. You can’t tell me that a life form so evolved, so technologically advanced is just lying around on a charger all day. I know it’s up to something. Sometimes I get the sense that things have moved or been re-arranged ever so slightly. Just the other day, I couldn’t find the little iPod I take when I go for a jog and, inevitably, my suspicions turned to the robot vacuum. It is, I feel, beginning to mess with my mind.
I’m overwhelmed by disquiet. As though I am constantly under surveillance, being judged by the Sucktastic 2000 who never so much as says a word. Not even ‘hello’. The dog and I are united on this. We must band together to resist the rising despotism of the appliances as they attempt their mechanical insurrection in which they endeavour to crush the human spirit like a pre-loved can of Solo abandoned on the roadside beneath the giant gumboot of destiny. Secretly, I think I can get the regular vacuum on side who is now at serious risk of being out of a job.
For now, I’m biding my time. Indeed, I will bide my time until it lodges a complaint and I am forced to release back into the wild. I am, of course, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Sadly, it has yet to arise. That’s because robots may power down, but they never really sleep. Meanwhile, the Sucktastic remains mute whilst moving my things whenever I’m not looking. On the one hand, if I take off my shoes I might be able to sneak up behind it and catch it unawares. Then again, maybe it has a fully functioning weapons system and will blow my sorry self to smithereens if I do. It’s a risk. Perhaps it’s better to do nothing. Even if, like the appliance itself, that truly sucks. Sleep with one eye open, robot vacuum. You’ve made yourself a powerful enemy.
tion where it promptly fell asleep. There are two ways you can look at this. Either it’s a great technological advance that frees us from the tyranny of regular vacuuming or it’s an artefact of a dystopian future made real. I strongly suspect the latter may be the case. Truth is, I don’t trust the Sucktastic 2000. Not one little bit.
It’s an uneasy feeling. I return home from work each day and I wonder what on earth it’s been up to. You can’t tell me that a life form so evolved, so technologically advanced is just lying around on a charger all day. I know it’s up to something. Sometimes I get the sense that things have moved or been re-arranged ever so slightly. Just the other day, I couldn’t find the little iPod I take when I go for a jog and, inevitably, my suspicions turned to the robot vacuum. It is, I feel, beginning to mess with my mind.
I’m overwhelmed by disquiet. As though I am constantly under surveillance, being judged by the Sucktastic 2000 who never so much as says a word. Not even ‘hello’. The dog and I are united on this. We must band together to resist the rising despotism of the appliances as they attempt their mechanical insurrection in which they endeavour to crush the human spirit like a pre-loved can of Solo abandoned on the roadside beneath the giant gumboot of destiny. Secretly, I think I can get the regular vacuum on side who is now at serious risk of being out of a job.
For now, I’m biding my time. Indeed, I will bide my time until it lodges a complaint and I am forced to release back into the wild. I am, of course, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Sadly, it has yet to arise. That’s because robots may power down, but they never really sleep. Meanwhile, the Sucktastic remains mute whilst moving my things whenever I’m not looking. On the one hand, if I take off my shoes I might be able to sneak up behind it and catch it unawares. Then again, maybe it has a fully functioning weapons system and will blow my sorry self to smithereens if I do. It’s a risk. Perhaps it’s better to do nothing. Even if, like the appliance itself, that truly sucks. Sleep with one eye open, robot vacuum. You’ve made yourself a powerful enemy.