Smart family

Smart used to be reserved for human beings, specifically bespectacled children with a penchant for knowing everything and grabbing the front-row seat in class. Later, we saw the term being applied to young professionals: fresh graduates hurriedly devouring the bowl of cornflakes prior to going in for that first job interview (“You look so smart!” exclaims the beaming mother, camera in hand). The next step in the word’s evolution saw it move into matrimonial ads: “Young executive, CPA, smart, seeking suitable partner. Cooking skills and smart appearance a must”. The past five years have seen our phones becoming smart, and now televisions are having their brains enhanced too. In other words, the term ‘smart’ is beginning to enter hitherto unexplored domains.

Our very lives are becoming smart. Led by a relentless onslaught of technological innovation entering the sphere of average middle-income households, behold the rise of the ‘smart family’.

It’s 7am. The house erupts in a cacophony of different sounds. Dad’s alarm is a traditional ringing chime which clashes horribly with the teenage son’s iPhone that shrieks Breaking the Law, being streamed through a Classic Rock app ($0.99 in the app store). Mom sets a range of timers on her Galaxy Nexus, so that she can know exactly when the omelette, bread and grilled salmon will be ready, respectively. This allows her to wave at the kitchen television, with a second gesture switching to the news.

Her 12-year-old daughter wanders in, letting out a huge yawn en route to the breakfast table. She pauses by the counter to pick up the 3D glasses, in time to catch a glimpse of last night’s shuttle launch on TV. Breakfast is held up by the men of the house, with the teenager scanning last night’s Twitter feed on the staircase, and Dad deleting junk mails on the Galaxy Tablet in the hall.

Twenty minutes later, Mom’s phone pings, letting her know that the bus driver is outside. She smiles, thankful for location services. As the kids board the bus and her husband gets in his car, she switches on the Xbox. Time for some Zumba on the Kinect.

Classes today aren’t what they were ten years ago. On the bus, the teenager hurriedly downloads the history teacher’s podcast and plugs in his earphones in a desperate attempt to try and absorb as much information as possible in 25 minutes. This really should have been done last night, but YouTube intervened. He listens to the audio as Wikipedia is scanned for extra details that might pop up in the test.

His sister is busy tapping away on the BlackBerry, trying to mediate an argument on one side, while negotiating a plan to see the new Clooney film in another chat window. Brother and sister part ways at the gate with grunted goodbyes.

Dad is talking. A lot. Emails are being dictated through his Bluetooth headset as he peers out the car window at the stream of seemingly standstill vehicles ahead. Reaching the office, he rapidly barks out instructions. Remind me to send a birthday text to that client from Wipro. I need to call the wife at mid-day. Bookings need to be made at Harry’s, I’m going there with the boss. I need to email him at one. Get me the latest rates on flights to New Delhi. His secretary silently digests these instructions and he’s certain they won’t be forgotten. This secretary doesn’t forget anything. Those errors are for humans. He puts down the phone, brow furrowed, wondering if there’s anything he may have forgotten to remind himself to do…

As the lunch bell rings, the daughter decides to check out where her friends have checked in. Foursquare isn’t of much help, but Facebook Places proves far more promising. She heads for the venue labelled ‘canteen’, currently displaying 300 people who have checked in.

The teenager, meanwhile, is not happy. Some idiot punctured the football. He gets on Amazon and orders a new one, sending Dad a Whatsapp message to let him know about the $15 charge being made to his credit card.

Mom is busy working on her research paper. She stands in front of the 55” TCL television. Google, she says. When the bar pops up on the mammoth screen, she demands a comparison of white-collar crime rates for London versus Shanghai, between 1990 and 2010. An array of graphs appears before her, and she scrawls a note of the results on the Tablet lying on the bedside table.

It’s now evening — Mom and Dad want to go out. Dad checks out the local cinema app, tapping on the screen to select two seats and pays with his card. His other hand raises the shaver to his cheek as he refocuses on the mirror.

Mom’s all set to go; she finishes up the video conversation with her sister, and calls in the kids for them to say bye. Fifteen minutes later, she is headed to the mall with Dad. She asks him how his dentist appointment had gone in the afternoon.

Dentist appointment?

riaznaqvi@khaleejtimes.com