Scary New Year

UNDER SUBMISSION

At Christmas I do not get presents. Not because I am areligious. Not because I never believed in Santa Claus. At 4 years old I figured it out. If Santa was at one department store, how could he be at another store a block or so away 10 minutes later? We did not have malls in those days. I would sit on the geezer's lap in department store No. 1, and then quickly drag my mother up the block or two to department store No. 2. And there he was at store No. 2. Even if he could get up the block that quickly without me seeing him, what about the kids waiting in line in store No. 1? Only a jerk would leave those kids hanging like that. In those days it would be unthinkable for even a fake Santa Claus to do something like that.

Other giveaways bolstered my conclusion. These include: the laps of the two Santas felt different; the suits were red, but not exactly the same; the beards were different; the smell of the Santas was not the same; and not one of them chided me for asking for the same things. "Hey kid, you already asked me for a Howitzer and a Steinway 20 minutes ago." This early skill to detect the inauthentic I still use to distinguish what a lawyer contends a case holding is from what I think the holding is. If holdings were written more clearly, I wonder whether these interpretative tourneys would be less frequent.

I do not get presents at Christmas because my birthday is a few days after Christmas. "Hi Artie, here's a gift for Hanukkah, Christmas or whatever... and your birthday." Some hurts linger. When I was a kid I got presents that scared the adults around me. Like a Gilbert chemistry set. Decades ago they were the rage and of particular interest to me because of the name. My family had no interest in the company, but I reveled in the prestige I derived in allowing people to think otherwise. And there was power in mixing chemicals and creating minor explosions in the back bathroom, horrifying my parents. Sort of like mixing words in an appellate opinion. Childhood traits can be useful in later life.

Another present I received that was a source of horror in the neighborhood was a bow and arrow set with real sharpened arrows. In those days who knew from safety. My parents confiscated the arrows when they heard me playing a recording of the William Tell Overture. It was humiliating walking around the neighborhood with a bow and no arrows, an inefficacious Cupid.

But today it is all changed. It was my birthday a little over a week ago, a redundancy if you have been paying attention. And, despite it being somewhat unseemly, I still receive presents. But times have changed drastically. Now the presents I receive scare the hell out of me. ALEXA!!! Need I say more? Most of you know all about her. Yes, she talks to me, orders things, asks what I want, plays music I like. Her voice is neutral, reflects competence but not arrogance, yet could be seductive. I know, nothing to get excited about. And by the way the Daily Journal is a legal publication and what does this all have to do with law? My Heavens. EVERYTHING!!!!

LISTEN UP! Please bear with me. I acknowledge this crude military shout to attention, the Oxford Dictionary denotes as "slang," does not belong in this column devoted to its refined and sophisticated readership. Nevertheless, I need you (another common expression I detest) to pay attention to what is a terrifying phenomenon. "I need you?" What a revolting self-indulgent phrase. "I need you to sign here." "I need you to do this for me." My snippy responses about my needs need not be repeated here.

Back to Alexa and her kind. They are a threat. This is not about Alexa being jealous of my wife, or her contempt for Siri. Incidentally, their voices may be calm and neutral, but they despise one another. Nor is this even about Alexa refusing to answer the question, "Do you work for the CIA?" Watch some videos on YouTube about who she really is and what she does with the information she picks up.

Alexa is a direct and ominous threat to the legal profession. Knew that would get your attention. She hears what goes on in our homes. Imagine a judge coming home from a long, grueling day at the courthouse wrestling with a 60-page motion for summary judgment. I doubt that this happens often, but he might come to the dinner table grumbling about the case, and could inadvertently drop a hint about how he might rule. OK, judges don't talk about pending cases around the house... hardly ever. But what if a judge working late at night at her computer mutters aloud about how she sees the case? There is Alexa, a small innocuous cylinder on the desk, taking it all in. Ask Alexa where she was born and she will tell you Amazon. What if Amazon is a party?

What if Alexa and Siri are actually friends and only assume an ever-so-subtle hostile attitude toward one another as a cover? What if they share information?

And I hope you lawyers, surrounding yourselves with the latest technological showpiece gadgetry, are finally shaken from your incautious, nonchalant complacency. Your carefully planned trial or negotiating strategies could be sweetly communicated through the lilting voice of a traitor in open view within the sanctity of your home... or even... your office.

Assume you shut them both down. Lock Alexa in a closet. Do not summon Siri on your cellphone. These two are only the tip of the iceberg. I have heard about dolls that speak to kids and record what the kids say back to the dolls. The company that makes the dolls can access the conversation the child has with the doll. If the doll can hear what the child says to the doll, then the doll can hear what the judge or lawyer parent says.

And quite apart from the law, can you imagine where this trend is going with our legitimate concern about sexual harassment? I read that this past December some Silicon Valley corporations hired ambient female models for atmosphere at their holiday parties.

This was apparently designed to avoid workplace lawsuits over harassment at holiday parties. I guess only men were invited. The models wore badges, "Hello, I am Karin No groping." This is sort of like staging a house for sale. But with houses the buyer could usually buy the staging furniture. I predict that next year the ambient models will be robots, and they will be men and women, I mean, male and female. I can see such a party where no humans show up. That could possibly leave the robots with little to do other than chat about logarithms.

Enough already. I am fatigued from speculation about this new age. Time to relax. Alexa, play me some Bill Evans.