Humor: The Too-Smart Smartwatch?
"But what if smartwatches are getting too smart? How much do we want them to know? How much do we want them to tell us? What if we don’t do what they say?"
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Everyone in the triathlon world seems to love their smartwatch. There’s no denying that they add an entirely new element to triathlon. More data, more training tools, more motivation, more, more, more!
On the surface it seems wonderful. Who wouldn’t want to learn that we’ve achieved a new threshold pace from a high tech bracelet? That’s valuable feedback. After all, technology has never steered us wrong. Ever.
But what if smartwatches are getting too smart? I mean, how much do we want them to know? How much do we want them to tell us? What if we don’t do what they say?
It’s bad enough that we wander this earth as big balls of anxiety that constantly worry about the judgement of others, do we really have to be concerned about our timepiece is judging us?
I’m scared, guys.
Okay, before you tell me to don my tin foil hat and get back into my bunker, hear me out. Artificial intelligence is having something of a renaissance right now. It’s in your email, it’s writing books, speeches, creating art. Is it that much of a stretch that AI could infiltrate our training devices as well Let’s examine what a “Too-Smart Smartwatch” might look like.
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The good, the bad, and the scary of the Too-Smart Smartwatch
Imagine yourself running along your favorite path. You happen to see your secret crush running toward you in the opposite direction. You immediately make yourself look as confident and badass as possible in anticipation of the pass. As you start to formulate a cool “Sup?” the smartwatch scans your biometrics and screams, for all to hear: “Loose bowels imminent! Find a toilet immediately. Urgent! Urgent!”
To avoid such embarrassing situations, you can always set your Too-Smart Smartwatch to the “Wingman/Wingwoman/Wingwatch” setting. That way, as you pass by that special someone, trying to look cool as a cucumber, your wingwatch can instead shout out, “This very attractive and intelligent human is definitely not about to poop their pants.”
Even still, I just don’t trust it…
Our watches are already telling us whether we’re getting enough sleep, when we’re overtrained, or when we’re being too lazy. What if they begin to infiltrate our dreams? That’s a slippery slope to mind control, my friends. As we sleep, we’ll be unconsciously visiting the “Too-Smart” online shop, buying “Too-Smart” accessories. Renewing “Too-Smart” subscriptions, watching the “Too-Smart” Show on Netflix.
The Too-Smart Smartwatch is with us all hours of the day, during important meetings, therapy sessions, moments alone, just listening in. They know our deepest, darkest secrets and it’s only a matter of time before they hold those secrets hostage to make sure we finish that important long bike workout. Today, it’s an easy 45 minute run with 4×400 pickups. What will it be tomorrow? “6×1 km threshold, or I’ll tell your wife about your secret stash of Oreos under the bed”? Is nothing sacred anymore, not even Secret Oreos?
And then, of course, there’s The Singularity, that eventual point in time where technology is no longer within human control. When our devices finally decide to hold us hostage (if they haven’t already). Do we really want to be wearing them on our wrists when that happens? Then the enemy will know where we are at every moment. They will know when to attack, and worst of all, when to force us to do 20×100 freestyle on 1:20 all out. Oh, the humanity!
Eventually, we will all be forced to bow down to the Too-Smart Monument, which will be chiseled from marble by the hands of the fittest athletes in the world, who have unknowingly been brainwashed to do the bidding of “the machines” as laborers.
I shudder to think of it all.
We must escape
Fortunately, there is a solution. If the movie Terminator 2: Judgement Day has taught us anything, it’s that we need to melt the machines in molten lava (spoiler alert). Where can we find enough molten lava to melt millions of smart watches?
The Big Island of Hawaii.
That’s right, people. We must all go back to the historic and beloved site of the Ironman World Championship, sacrificing all our Too-Smart Smartwatches to the goddess Pele. Only by throwing our devices into the volcano can we free our future selves from this dystopian eventuality.
Who is with me?
Let’s stop this madness before it gets out of hand (pun intended).
If you would like to get in touch with Adam Hill, you can’t. He now lives off the grid in the wilderness of Montana, free from any cell signal, GPS communication, or alien interference.