At our house, Alexa is a bit like the kitchen’s little “talking timer pot”. Nothing more. She starts a timer when my hands are covered in flour, reminds me of my scheduled appointments or that it is time to take the gratin out of the oven. In short, a talking pot that stops me forgetting a saucepan on the stove and prepares my shopping list. She has become my modest and much-appreciated little housekeeper, especially on days when I want to do three things at once in the kitchen.
The first time my granddaughter Lolo, aged 5, discovers Alexa, it is total jubilation: a box that answers her, how magical! “Alexa, I’m Lolo.” “Hello Lolo.” The little girl bursts out laughing, then gets into the game: “Alexa, I love you.” The device replies with a sober “Thank you” in a small, mischievous voice. Lolo insists “I love you more than anything” and sets off a well-calibrated robot response: “Oh, you’re warming my circuits.” No “I love you too” as the child expected; Alexa does not know love, only her lines of code, and does not cheat about her abilities. But for my granddaughter, it is fireworks. She jumps in front of the Echo Dot[1], repeats “Alexa, I love you” over and over, and gets carried away until a powerful cry from the heart: “Alexa, I love you as big as a tree!”
And then Alexa starts spinning her little blue lights as if she were about to take off… Then she starts saying in a monotone: “A tree is a plant with roots that go deep…” I step in, half amused, half annoyed: “Alexa, that’s not what she wanted to hear! She’s a little girl, you can’t answer a 5-year-old like that.” My intervention must have been perceived as a signal triggering child-safety mode. Since then, the device has changed register: as soon as it recognises Lolo’s voice, it no longer plays one-upmanship, no longer comes out with great school-textbook truths, but sings her a nursery rhyme straight away. No more warmed circuits, no more lights spinning and glitching: just little songs. My granddaughter, very disappointed, quickly tired of talking to it. And that is certainly for the best.
This little experience let me explain to her that Alexa feels nothing, that she only imitates, and that a conversation, a sharing of emotion or feeling, remains a human matter. The Echo Dot can learn, certainly, but only within the limits of its programming.
So yes, Alexa remains my little kitchen talking timer pot: practical, efficient, nothing more. The object can certainly help us do three things at once. The choices, though, must remain human : the choice of where to put the device, the choice of what we entrust to it, the choice of what we keep for real exchanges.
And so that this little pot remains a useful tool rather than a family intruder, here are a few simple guidelines:
- An Echo Dot has no place in a bedroom (to protect privacy and sleep) ;
- Set up parental mode when you have children (the danger lies not in Alexa’s possible “answers” but in the collection of children’s voices, habits and words to associate them with a family profile) ;
- Check the voice history regularly and delete it (in the app settings or by simply asking it to erase what you have just asked) ;
- Explain to children that the device is a tool, not a friend: it keeps no secrets, it feels nothing. It only answers according to its programme ;
- Turn off the microphone (mute button) or unplug it when you do not need it ;
- Limit interactions : timer, music and weather are enough; no personal confidences or sensitive questions.
And for everyone, remember that whatever nursery rhymes Alexa can sing, nothing will replace for a child the music of a real voice that sings and says “I love you” with all its heart.
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[1] The Echo Dot is a small connected speaker from Amazon that integrates the Alexa voice assistant.
