Today, when I had to go and clean out the bin on my upstairs Neato vacuum, I noticed some interesting empathy.
See, my upstairs Neato is a “Botvac Connected”, and it has faithfully cleaned my floors 2-3 times a week since 2015… And last year it was augmented with a Neato D8 to do the main floor, and the Connected was moved upstairs to do the bedrooms.
Today after I replaced its dirt bin and it chugged up to speed and started off on its rounds, I felt a pang of sadness for the old soldier. See, it has a lot of miles on it, and it rattles and bangs and one wheel drags a bit so it kind of limps around – and it’s battery is weak so sometimes it doesn’t make it back to its base to recharge and just kind of falls asleep somewhere.
It’s a machine, made of motors and electronics, and it has one basic function which is to vacuum – but the fact I can feel sadness for it, the same sadness that one experiences when they realize a cherished pet has reached its sunset years, is an intriguing observation of what makes us Human…
Humans have anthropomorphized the world around themselves since the dawn of civilization, and apparently said civilization hasn’t ground me down so much that I can’t still feel empathy for an old robot vacuum…
And that makes me happier than it probably should.
I just ordered a new $80 battery for my old robovac upstairs, and I’ve added a teardown and restoration to my list of projects for the summer.
I’ll try to keep VacBro around for a few more years.
Listening to "Jane" by Starship