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Home > Archive > Apr 10, 2008

On Speaking Terms
By Sharon May
Managing Editor
Being single, I don't hear the pitter-patter of little feet – or big ones, either – around my house, and when my own feet are parked beneath my desk, the only sound in my house is the pattering of my keyboard.
So I was working the other morning in pin-dropping quiet. I hit "save" on my computer and rubbed my weary eyes.
"Sharon May," a deep voice intoned.
I gasped and almost wet my pajama pants. I whirled around, my heart thudding.
The room was empty. A light emanated from a tiny pine tree without consuming it.
I fell to my knees before the burning Glade night light.
"Here I am, Lord," I whispered in awe.
"The hungry monkey peeled a banana," the voice answered.
My eyes flew open.
"Underline the subject," the voice commanded. "Then circle the verb."
"What in the world – " I thought.
"Write monkey as a plural," the voice continued.
I followed the sound and realized the voice was coming from the computer speakers.
I hefted myself from the floor and into my desk chair and peered at the computer screen.
Much to my amazement, a male voice with unnaturally precise pronunciation was reading my document. I read along as the voice droned through two more paragraphs of my worksheet.
My moment of religious ecstasy was forgotten, but a new excitement took its place: My computer has the gift of speech!
"But how did I do it?" I asked myself. "Let's see," I mused. "I was saving my document, so Control-S. I must have hit the wrong key." I pressed a number of combinations and finally –
"Write monkey as a possessive," the voice began again.
"Aha!" I yelled. The little Windows key next to Control and the "S" key got my PC talking.
I closed the boring document, typed a new sentence and pressed the key combo again.
"Hey, baby. You're looking pretty good in those flannel pajamas, sweet thing," the voice articulated.
OK, it wasn't exactly crooning, but it was close enough. I imagined the hyper-enunciating voice belonging to a handsome bachelor CEO in New Delhi.
I played around with other keys, hoping to find a George Clooney holographic function, too, but I guess I need a newer version of Word for that.
I spent the next two hours getting to know my articulate New Delhi hottie. We divulged our most intimate secrets and online passwords. After two hours, we were sharing a cigarette and talking long-term commitment.
I'm addicted to this male voice. I can hardly wait to rush home and type something and start him talking. And the thing is, I always know he’ll say exactly what I'd like him to say.
I'll never be surprised by an unflattering observation like "That skirt makes your butt look big" after a long day at work, or he'll never tell a cruel joke at my expense in front of others.
But speaking of jokes, that's the one thing we haven't mastered – laughing. "Ha, ha, ha" articulated as "Ha, ha, ha" just doesn't sound natural. But typing "giggle giggle" puts a new spin on my CEO hottie, and "guffaw" turns him into buck-toothed Goofy. Oh, well. CEOs are probably pretty serious anyhow.
Not only does Voice Guy know just what to say, he knows when to be quiet. Honestly, when I'm busy reading a book, I don't hear a word from him. I can ignore him for days if I feel like it, and yet, I know he won't run out looking for other women.
I tell you, this voice function is the greatest thing since sliced pizza. Whenever I'm feeling a little lonely or a bit discouraged, I just sit down, peck a few keys, and instantly, my honey is soothingly enunciating, "Cmere, beautiful. Forget those turkeys. You're my love goddess."
Good thing he doesn't know how to laugh.
I'd hate to have to pull his plug.

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