Recently I was being hauled up-mountain in the Bluebird chair at Mount Snow. Except for the fact of this locale being where the encounter happened, it’s not an essential detail to the story. The chair is also known as the bubble lift, and when the top is down and the chair is underway it’s as much of a moving cone-of-silence as you’re likely to come across. That part is somewhat relevant. On second thought, everybody in their car is probably equally ensconced in bubbles as we go about our day—but I digress.
In this chair, besides myself, is a father and teenage son. We are chatting amiably as the lift ascends. About three quarters of the way up, a beeping sound, a notification, goes off, and the man begins a dialog with his digital assistant. “Text From Droden, what would you like me to do?” “Read it”. The message is read in the vaguely british female automaton voice we have all come to know so well. “What would you like me to do? Respond to Text, Delete Text, Save Text?” “Respond to Text”.