Samantha

You can almost picture it.

It’ll be called something stupid. Like a Samantha. They’ll do studies on the name, and after many focus groups and much market research, they’ll come up with something better than a Samantha, but it will be no better than a Samantha.

And two women will sit in the bleachers at their kids’ soccer game.

One will ask the other how she does it—how does she get so much accomplished in a day? Where does she find the time?

“We got a Samantha last month.”

Eyes wide. Disbelief.

Everyone knows about the Samantha, but the price tag makes it unreachable for most.

“We figured it’s an investment like anything else. And oh my god, it’s so worth it.”

The two women will whisper about it because it might be taboo. Or maybe it’s just new. Whatever it is, one will tell the other that she and her husband no longer split chores. They don’t fold laundry or dice vegetables. Or vacuum. Nothing menial. Nothing mindless. All maintenance has been fully offloaded.

There will be questions. And jealousy. And judgment. How could you share your home with a thing like that? What if it…could it ever…how do you know for sure?

The idea of owning a Samantha will be controversial and polarizing but ultimately welcomed.

The commercial will be serene and soothing. A clean, white, modern household, immaculate in every way. And the Samantha will be at the center of it, prepping dinner and helping with homework. They’ll come up with something like, “Take back the hours in your day,” and then the word Samantha will slowly burn into your screen in white Helvetica Neue. The commercial and tag will be better than that, but really no better than that.

Samantha could be here tomorrow. Would it be outlandish to open an app to order toothpaste and see the ad on the front page? It’ll come without warning. It’ll just appear, like a stranger knocking on your door. And when it arrives, everything will be pre- and post-Samantha. It will mark time.

And they’ll tell you it’ll be better, but really it’ll be no better.

Untitled - Hajime Sorayama