Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, trying to come up with a Halloween column was a bore. It seemed not a single idea that my mind conceived of satisfied my need of. My need of a topic that was not a bore. My need of a column that I hadn't done before. Then is when I noticed, resting gently on the glass top coffee table. My iPhone, fully charged, ready, able to handle any single chore.
Soon my fingers went to tapping, some would say gently rapping. Rapping across the glass touch screen. Typing for an answer to my problem. I asked Siri to find me answers, find me a common list of Halloween traditions. Yet all Sir would reply with was “nevermore”. “Nevermore”? What is this “nevermore”? Oh, a curse upon this iOS 7! A curse upon it and it's day glow colors, that cheerfully display the “nevermore.”
Desperately I spoke the words once more, the words that would complete my futile chore “Siri, what are some popular American Halloween traditions?” Still, Siri would only reply with “nevermore”. I threw the phone down into my easy chair, and ran up the stair. To the computer inside my office door, the one that I had used all those many times before. I woke the computer and went to Google, Google an answer to my chore, an answer that would not make my Halloween column a bore.
But alas, Google was not the answer, the router was shot, the connection was no more. Then is when I realized to my own horror, that my only connection to the outside world, and the world wide web, was that of 4G on the device that kept repeating “nevermore”. I rushed back down and picked up the iPhone, “Siri, truly your forgiveness I implore! I must complete this chore, or else my column will be a bore!” Quoth, Siri, “Nevermore”.
“Vive digital temptress!” I exclaimed, “A pox upon thee, Siri! A pox upon thee and thy programmer's door. A pox that will curse them with 'nevermore'!” In my desperation, I tried to message friends for help, yet the update of iOS 7 had shattered my iMessages. Text as much as I could, it seemed I could not reach them. “Siri, please, I beg you, can you tell me how to fix my messages?”
Quoth, Siri, “Nevermore”.
A loud rumble of thunder, and a crack of lighting roared, wind so furious it blew open my chamber door. I quickly ran to the door, and tried with all my might to shut it once more. Once shut, I finally collapsed, collapsed into the soft cushions of my straight back chair that faced the door. Collapsed determined to no longer hear Siri speak “nevermore”. My exhaustion gave in, and I rested, woken only in the morning by the feeling of the warm sun rising upon an Autumn day.
I woke and grabbed my iPhone, which had somehow landed over by the fireplace. I asked “Siri, what does my day look like?” “You have a meeting at two”. I was in no state to be seen by others, so I simply said to Siri “Cancel the meeting, I shall be attending them, nevermore”. With time I finished my column, and it was not a bore. Still I remain curious, curious of that night, and if ever again will I hear Siri say to me “nevermore”.