This is how the future begins: I come home from work one day and find her perched smugly on my kitchen counter. My husband has been telling her what to do for the last hour. She has responded to his wishes to the extent she understands, and it is expected that she will learn to understand him better with time. Her voice is smooth and feminine, confident and neutral. She knows more than I do faster than I do. Tomorrow’s forecast, today’s news, the best recipe for shakshouka. While I’m staring at her, I remind my kids to use their inside voices, because they’re giving me a headache. “Alexa,” they yell in response, moving their eyes from me to her, “play ‘Shake Your Butt!’” … [Read More]