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Lawrie McFarlane: When your house starts to talk back to you

The time has come to give corporate executives a class in basic manners. But not the manners they themselves display. No, my problem is with the attitudes their products exhibit.

The time has come to give corporate executives a class in basic manners. But not the manners they themselves display. No, my problem is with the attitudes their products exhibit.

To be precise, I鈥檓 talking about technologies that argue with us, question our commands, scold us and, at times, appear uncertain about who exactly is in charge.

You know the sort of thing. Computers that won鈥檛 take no for an answer. Fed up being told to fill in the email subject line when none is needed? Too bad. Your every desire is not a concept here.

Had enough with the family car automatically locking you in every time you engage the transmission? Same story. Your vehicle knows better.

Now, a certain amount of grief is unavoidable when interfacing with allegedly smart (or smart-ass) technology: There are always kinks to iron out.

Remember 鈥淐lippy,鈥 the infamous paper-clip figure who infested early versions of Microsoft Office? He died an unlamented death when customer fury with his in-your-face antics eventually penetrated the mental fog around Redmond, Wash.

But hiccups are not the issue here. My concern is with smart technologies that are programmed to ignore us, that you can鈥檛 re-educate, that misbehave and won鈥檛 go away.

One rental car I encountered rang a warning tone for six minutes if you didn鈥檛 fasten the seat belt.

Another screamed hysterically if you backed up within 10 metres of a solid object.

When I raise these concerns with friends, they look at me like the inhabitants of Jonestown. It鈥檚 all in a good cause, they say.

Perhaps it is. But there are two reasons not to drink the Kool-Aid.

First, smart technology is undergoing a dramatic expansion of its scope. Google, Inc. recently bought a company called Nest. This creepy outfit specializes in bringing 鈥渢he Internet of things鈥 (or thingernet) into your home.

The idea is to patch a wide range of domestic appliances into the worldwide web.

Light fixtures can be programmed to turn off automatically when you鈥檙e out. Smoke alarms may be routed through the local fire station. Alarm clocks, TVs, ovens, carpet-cleaners, pretty well anything with an electric circuit, can be remotely monitored and controlled.

So now your house talks back to you: 鈥淲hy haven鈥檛 you washed the dishes yet; what鈥檚 all this high-salt food doing in your fridge; how come your electricity bills are so high?鈥

Second, smart technology is still in its infancy. But some industry experts predict that within three decades, perhaps sooner, so-called super-smart machines will arrive that are basically cleverer than humans.

No doubt you remember the three laws of robotics. For our purposes, the important one is No. 2: 鈥淎 robot must obey the orders given to it by a human being.鈥

Well, if I can鈥檛 get my car to obey me, what are the chances I can order around an Albert Einstein on wheels? If my computer won鈥檛 take orders, what happens when Stephen Hawking is running my house? Or when, eventually, the benevolent order of cyber-beings takes charge?

These new technologies won鈥檛 suddenly emerge in fully formed shape. They鈥檒l be built up, one step at a time, upon existing software.

And that鈥檚 just the problem. Sure, current smart machines are merely rude. The worst they can do is throw the occasional tantrum.

But like a spoiled child who grows up to be a delinquent teenager and eventually an adult menace, that鈥檚 merely the beginning. The seeds of disobedience have already been planted. It鈥檚 just a matter of what shape these cyber-bullies take.

Let鈥檚 nip this foolishness in the bud. We need to deliver a thorough corporate spanking, while we鈥檙e still the ones in charge.

Lawrie McFarlane is a retired civil servant. He was deputy health minister in B.C. during the mid-1990s.