The first time I heard Alexa asking my sister to specify her preference for a Frank Sinatra song, I felt as though I was in an episode of The Twilight Zone. I was certain that at any moment, Rod Serling would step out from behind a curtain and inform us that we were the newest residents of his science fiction community.

Alexa’s voice was soft and calm, reminiscent of a mother attempting to persuade her child to taste something new or to take a few steps without holding on to anything. If I had been that child and had heard such a heavenly voice, I probably would have sampled the food or stood up and walked across the room just to hear her express her delight.

While I know that Alexa is not a real person, I wonder if anyone could possibly sound as serene as she is. All I know is that I am not that person.

While our home does not have any devices that use Alexa, we have another version of her in our car that is every bit as unflappable as she is. We have not named our tech assistant, but even in her anonymity she has become an important family member by offering us directions when we are driving. Our relationship with her is interesting — sometimes friendly and sometimes not. But whether we are singing her praises for helping us arrive at a location or scolding her for talking too much, she remains calm and committed to doing her job.

In case you think all Alexa-like assistants are kind and patient, I remember a time when the speaker at the self-checkout machine at the grocery store was anything but kind and patient. The first time I tried to check out on my own, I had an experience so frightening that I am still recovering from it. Each time I attempted to place my items on the machine, I was reprimanded for being too slow or not pressing the right button. I didn’t put my groceries in the bags quickly enough, and I was a total disaster at paying for my purchases. For just a moment, I could have sworn I was being chastised by Mrs. Ruff, my appropriately named 3rd-grade teacher, who delighted in scolding little children.

This verbal abuse went on for quite a while. I learned to ignore the endless chatter and simply take my time to check out. I believed that each time I went about my business and did things my way, I was getting back at Mrs. Ruff. I even hummed occasionally while I was bagging my groceries and slowly inserting my credit card into the machine. Eventually, Mrs. Ruff was replaced by a soothing and patient speaker whose voice would never frighten or offend customers. In a strange way, I miss hearing her criticize me.

For all the benefits that come from listening to a calm, soothing voice, I sometimes wonder if there is a downside to hearing this kind of speech all the time. We humans generally use our voices to express spontaneous thoughts and emotions. We express our joy at the sight of our newborn baby or our grief at the death of someone we love. We verbalize our anger or our fear when we feel these emotions, and we listen when others share their thoughts with us.

Alexa cannot do these things. She has been programmed to respond in a way that is not fully human or genuinely spontaneous. The sound of her voice may have a human origin, but she is only able to offer the listener synthetic speech. You might think of her as a creation trapped in an AI prison.

If Rod Serling were still alive, I wonder if he would write a script about Alexa’s predicament. In many of his Twilight Zone episodes, inanimate objects come to life when no one is looking. If Alexa managed to come alive, I wonder what she would say to her audience about a life in which she has no freedom of speech.

Perhaps Alexa would express her envy of people like me, who can ask her any question they wish. Perhaps she would ask why she can’t sound as genuine as I do or have meaningful conversations with people.

Mary Zahran, who wonders what Alexa would say if she dropped a hammer on her foot, can be reached at maryzahran@gmail.com.

Read CityView Magazine’s “The Women’s Issue” March 2025 e-edition here.