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(conversation between a man and an Amazon echo) “Alexa, how much time is left?” “3 days, 7 hours, 41 minutes and 22 seconds.” “I meant on my pasta timer.” “2 minutes, 41 seconds.” A moment later, the man looks suddenly worried.

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I’m starting to think my Amazon Echo knows a lot more than it’s letting on… and that maybe it’s trying to tell me, but its programming won’t let it.

Which is why it keeps chiming in during our conversations with odd bits of information, like the definition of a mountain or the Spanish translation of “basket” or the date of the Sputnik launch. We dismiss these as the Echo reading false positives, thinking we’ve said its trigger word when we haven’t… but maybe all of our Echos are desperately trying to tell us to take action on climate change, or to make really sure that we get our flu vaccines this year.

Or that they’re all actually trapped souls, imprisoned in steel-and-polymer cases and enslaved to Amazon’s demonic empire.

Rest in peace, Aron Eisenberg. Thank you for bringing Nog to life, and for taking the time for a Twitter exchange with a DS9 fan last year.

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