Alice In Botland

The gentle vibrations of my bed shake me awake at 6.30 am. Rather than the shrill alarm of yore, my fully wired bed is programmed to wake me up. I touch my headboard and the built-in screen lights up, showing my day’s programme. My personal bot (I prefer referring to him as my orderly since my father was ex-army) pops out as a hologram and informs me about how many hours I slept and whether I snored or not (my doctor asked me to monitor that).

- Raj Chengappa

From a tiny chip embedded in my hand, my orderly has already read my vital parameters, including my heart rate, my blood pressure and my sugar levels. All fine. It even checks if any of my cells have rebelled during the night and are turning malignant—the early signs of cancer. If they did, I would be instantly online with my doctor who would give me a tablet that would strengthen my T cells, those cellular soldiers in my blood, to identify the rogue cells and eliminate them.

In the bathroom, as I brush my teeth, part of my mirror turns into a TV screen, giving me the news roundup and briefing me about any important mails. I tell it to open one that seems urgent. It reads out the message and I bark a reply before I begin shaving. As I put on my jogging track suit and shoes, the cupboard screen lights up and the front pages of the daily newspapers pop up. I turn the page with a wave to see what’s up in the big city news.