BOT

            * I *

Just the other day 

while trying to complete 

a transaction on the Internet

I had to prove that 

I was not a robot

to a robot

which seemed to me like an electronic version

of self-discrimination, a sort of 

‘You may proceed…as long as you are not like me’

but the more I thought about it

who better to systematically authenticate our humanity

than a pre-programmed non-human

who already knows the answer

to which pictures contain traffic lights 

and can decipher squiggly bits of overlayed alphabet with ease.

I came to the conclusion that 

robots checking for robots seemed fine 

as long as the robots didn't start

 

organizing under a common flag

for some clandestine 

non-inclusive purpose.

            * II *

After successfully passing

the ‘I am not a robot’ test

I began a conversation with a different robot

who was extremely polite and spoke grammatically correct English 

and gave me the feeling its Spanish would have been impeccable

had I chosen numero dos.

I could almost sense the robot bowing ever so slightly

as it respectfully introduced itself

and asked me how my day was going.

Thinking I might entertain myself by

testing the limits of the programmed BOT lexicon,

I replied, “Groovy.”

“Fantastic!”, it responded.

I was impressed

but now felling 

a bit uneasy.

Within a few minutes of our conversation 

I found myself crafting my questions and answers

so as to be more easily understood by the robot

which meant that, without prior instruction

I was quickly teaching myself to become fluent

in speaking Conversational BOT 101

(or was the robot teaching me?)

I then realized our conversation had placed me 

inside an endless loop of a question and answer game

that kept returning me back to the same starting point

 

nowhere closer to resolving my problem 

and the only option to escape was to scream

“Speak to a Representative!!!”

* III *

As penalty for giving up 

on my conversation with the robot

I was placed on hold for 37 minutes

and every 60 seconds or so I was reminded that

although my call was very important

the robots handling the call que had received explicit instructions

to route the calls in the order in which they were received

proving that the robots had been given lessons in 

the decorum of “first come, first served”

but in appreciation for my patience

during my expected wait time of 37 minutes

the computer tried to soften my on hold experience 

by playing an antique tune in a style once referred to as ‘elevator music’

that sounded as if it were being played underwater 

on a 8-track tape player that had been tossed in the ocean in 1974.

* IV *

And so began

my afternoon dream parade 

of random thoughts

about the person who created 

this loop of meritless melodies in 1974

and how proud they would be 

if they found their music 

still being played 50 years later 

by robots sophisticated enough 

to administer anti-robot tests 

with traffic lights and road signs

and squiggly bits of overlayed alphabet

and I wondered what type of music 

our robots will play when we finally ask our

artificially infused but-oh-so-intelligent computers

to create new music designed to soothe a pre-certified human 

that must wait their turn for 37 minutes

to speak to another human.

-inspired by and dedicated to Rob McCloskey

Ken Owen February 2024
Van Niddy Press