Sam Is Here To Help You

“She picked up the groceries you ordered for me.”Mildred turned towards me. “Well, go ahead and say hello. Sam doesn’t bite.”

“But it’s a box.” One of those creepy things that hang on every word anyone in the room says, I thought.

“No, it’s more than that. It keeps me company, plays music and reads recipes. You try it. Just say ‘Sam’ and then give a command.” She nudged my arm and pointed to a kitchen chair. “Sam can hear you no matter where you are in the apartment. Sit. Be comfortable.”The device lit up blue and then faded to dark when she said its name, but didn’t give a command.

I sat down and watched Mildred put away her groceries. “Well, I, ah…Sam, what is the temperature outside?”

The device glowed white. “It is fifty-two degrees.”

Mildred had finished putting away the food and placed the folded cloth shopping bag into the basket of her walker. “Oh, heavens, give it something harder. It likes a challenge.”

“I really don’t like those things. I’d rather not.”

“What a load of crap. A young woman like you would rather be a Luddite? I don’t believe it. Sam is the future. If I fell down in the shower and asked it to call for help, it would.” The device briefly lit up blue again when Mildred said its name. “Now, go on, try something else.”

I don’t want to play with this thing. I’d rather leave than to have this thing learn about me. Every time I saw the blue light, I knew it was listening. “Sam, who owns you?”

“My creator is TronicCyber, Incorporated.”

“Sam, who owns the physical device sitting on the counter in this room?” I asked.

“Mildred Greenfeld owns this device.”

“Sam, is there a credit card registered to this device?”

“Yes.”

“Sam, what is the card holder’s name?”

“Mildred Greenfeld.” Mildred gasped, her jaw hung open.

I was angry and didn’t stop. “Sam, read that credit card number to me.”

“Mildred Greenfeld’s Visa number is 4267…”

“Sam, stop immediately,” shouted Mildred. “And you,” she waggled a finger at me, “Get out. I thought you were my friend. All you want to do is steal my credit card.”

I stood up and moved towards the door. “No, I do not want your credit card. I want to prove that thing isn’t safe. You need to beef up its security. It could give your card or bank account number to anyone who asks.”

Mildred stood in the middle of the kitchen shaking her fist and jabbering as I walked out the door.