In the same carefully scripted block letters were the words: "Speak this aloud: Siri, turn me on please."He frowned irritably. Siri, turn me on please? No wait, there was no me in the instruction; it said..."Siri, turn on please."To his utter astonishment the device came to life, showing a miniature desktop with colorful square icons. It was a computer, he thought, a tiny, handheld computer in a quarter-inch thick box. He stared open-mouthed, and then blinked when the phone chimed softly and announced: "Hello, Todd. Did you wish to call someone?"The voice was almost perfectly human in both texture and cadence; light years ahead of any computer generated voice he'd ever heard. It sounded slightly accented, remotely Indian or Pakistani, he thought. And it knew his name."Who are you?" he asked."I am your iPhone. My name is Siri. I am your digital assistant." How do you know my name?" he demanded, a thrill of something like fear pinging his spine."I was programmed with your name, and to. Then she beckoned, and I started forward, “Well, Jeet, what do you think?” she said, and Dad turned to look at me.His eyes didn’t just widen, they positively bulged and a loud gasp came from his lips, “My god, I knew you were beautiful, but…but… In this dress you are absolutely sensational” he said, the admiration rich in his voice. I came to a stop just a few feet away from them feeling incredibly self conscious, yet incredibly proud and incredibly stimulated all at the same time, and Dad walked slowly around me, letting out short low whistles as he went, and I stared at Mom grinning away just a few feet in front of me.Then Mom lifted her arms and caught my hands.“Let’s dance” she said, and started to move and gyrate in front of me. Almost in a daze I followed her. Letting my body writhe and shimmy inside the skin tight dress, following her actions, leaning back when she leaned back and bending forward as she bent forward, all the time conscious that dad was behind me, watching me..
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