My phone regularly requests me to speak to it. I don't. You see, my idea of a phone is that I use it to communicate with other people, not that I communicate with it. If you get my meaning.
If I look something up on the web, inevitably the first answer will come from AI, a hotchpotch of information put together from what AI has gathered. If I want something like that, I can ask a neighbour or a colleague or the well-known man/woman on the street. So I prefer to go directly to the relevant website without any AI at my elbow.
When I want to write something, regardless of what, AI is there again, "let me do it for you". No thanks, honey, I'll manage all on my own like I've been doing for years.
Recently, driving my brother's car, I slowed down at a roundabout and happened to glance down at the car's display panel. Slow down you are approaching a roundabout it said, or words to that effect. Now, if I'd been relying on the info panel, I'd most likely have driven into to the car in front. Who needs that kind of information?
And I don't have one of those watches which tells you how many steps you took today, how many hours you sleep, how your blood is doing. My watch tells me the time. That's it. I go walking, I weigh myself, I sleep when I'm tired and if I want my blood examined, I go to my doctor and get a blood test.
You can brand me as old-fashioned, forever yesterday, if you like. I think we are born with a self-preservation instinct and a good dollop of common sense. But somehow, someone out there in the meta-verse thinks we can't manage on our own. And it is to their interest that they should "help" us. Nah, not with me. No thanks, I'll do it myself.
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Thanks for reading. Can I plug my latest Alan Murray Mystery? A lot of readers liked Death in a Lonely Place. All available on Amazon.
The Wrong Place To Die
The Heddwch Centre comes to the little village Ballyamber offering
a variety of relaxation and communion with nature therapies. Although
viewed with suspicion by the new parish priest, Father Neil Cooper, the
ladies of Ballyamber are enthralled and flock to the courses offered,
dazzled by the two charming brothers who run the centre. Sergeant Alan
Murray's wife Elena is among the admirers of Rhys and Joel's enterprise,
but Murray remains sceptical.
Denise Flynn flees her life in
London and comes to live with her aunt and uncle who run a small shop in
Ballyamber village. Her sense of security quickly vanishes when her
uncle Conor disappears without trace. A few weeks later, Nathan, one of
the Heddwch Centre community also goes missing.
With no apparent
motives for either disappearance, Sergeant Alan Murray is nonplussed.
For the first time in his career, he starts to look forward to his
retirement.
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