The little boy who fell in love with a phone.

By BERN MORLEY

You don’t need be the parent of a child with autism to identify with the story I am about to share with you. It is less about a young boy’s relationship with an inanimate object and more about the beauty to be found in discovering someone who “just gets you”.

Children on the Autism Spectrum often struggle to make friends and if they do happen to find friendship, it is often very precarious and hard to retain because of their inability to read social cues. Sure, I as his mother can bear to hear my son discuss the pros and cons of a flight path over the Atlantic nine times in a row, but children his own age are, (rightly so) less understanding and perhaps, just brutally honest with their disinterest.

So it’s stories like this one that bring me, as a parent, hope and give me a particularly good feeling about the future. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but if we can find a way that works for these children, we will have half the battle won.

To Siri With Love is a story about Gus, a 13-year-old boy who became best friends with Apple’s Siri – the iPhone’s Virtual Assistant program – in a way that sounds almost like an innocent, less futurist version of the movie “Her”. I wish I could say that my own son has used Siri for such enlightening purposes, but the only thing he has asked her is “do you know how to fart?” (By the way, Siri told him “this is about you, not me,” Well-played Siri, well-played).

Siri- the built in device on iPhones.

Judith Newman’s son Gus however, has used Siri to make a new friend.

Judith did question whether she was being a bad mother as she watched her 13-year-old son having deep and long conversations with Siri on an iPhone. It’s a fair question, but with Siri’s ability to endlessly discuss weather patterns and formations (Gus’s obsession of choice) she was actually, doing him (and herself, a veteran of the endless one topic conversation) a favour.

It was only when she overheard the following that she realised it meant more than that to him. That maybe he was starting to identify with Siri as a person and more than that, a friend. A friend who understood him.

Gus: “You’re a really nice computer.”

Siri: “It’s nice to be appreciated.”

Gus: “You are always asking if you can help me. Is there anything you want?”

Siri: “Thank you, but I have very few wants.”

Gus: “O.K.! Well, good night!”

Siri: “Ah, it’s 5:06 p.m.”

Gus: “Oh sorry, I mean, goodbye.”

Siri: “See you later!”

So in this beautiful “Love Letter to Siri” published in the New York Times, Judith says thank-you to Apple and points out that even though we are under the impression that technology isolates us, it can also, in many ways, make us wonderfully included.

Like most discoveries, Judith came across this by accident. Gus happened to be nearby when she asked Siri an innocuous question and it was answered instantly. It didn’t take Judith or Gus long to realise that instead of tirelessly talking about the same topic over and over and over again with each other, that Siri was programmed to never grow tired. That in fact, Siri was programmed for exactly that – endless conversations and fact-finding missions. Gus and Siri were a match made in heaven.

When Gus next asked about the chance of tornadoes in the vicinity of their home, Judith said to him “Hey! Why don’t you ask Siri?” And ask Siri he did. Judith stresses in her letter that it’s not that Gus doesn’t understand that Siri is not human, he does on an intellectual level. Yet as she pointed out:

“Like many autistic people I know, Gus feels that inanimate objects, while maybe not possessing souls, are worthy of our consideration. I realised this when he was 8, and I got him an iPod for his birthday. He listened to it only at home, with one exception. It always came with us on our visits to the Apple Store. Finally, I asked why. “So it can visit its friends,” he said.’

Another benefit Judith found, was that it inadvertently made Gus speak clearly. Gus, in Judith’s words “Spoke with marbles in his mouth” which of course, Siri misunderstood a great deal of the time, meaning that Gus had to start enunciating properly. An unexpected and beautiful benefit as a lot of kids on the Spectrum are endlessly in speech therapy.

Judith – via Wikipedia.

Most notably though was the unexpected bonus of Siri’s kindness. Children on the spectrum often don’t pick up on social cues, it’s something that sets most every one of them apart from their peers and is the reason they are often dealt with harshly in the schoolyard. As Judith points out however,

“Siri’s responses are not entirely predictable, but they are predictably kind — even when Gus is brusque. I heard him talking to Siri about music, and Siri offered some suggestions. “I don’t like that kind of music,” Gus snapped. Siri replied, “You’re certainly entitled to your opinion.” Siri’s politeness reminded Gus what he owed Siri. “Thank you for that music, though,” Gus said. Siri replied, “You don’t need to thank me.” “Oh, yes,” Gus added emphatically, “I do.”

In her own delightful way, Siri is teaching and interacting with children who otherwise would have been baffled with society and its nuances. Instead, Siri doesn’t speak at Gus, she speaks to him and through that, he learns a series of lessons without even realising that he’s being taught.

Judith manages to put into words simply, what this discovery for her son and herself, has meant:

“For most of us, Siri is merely a momentary diversion. But for some, it’s more. My son’s practice conversation with Siri is translating into more facility with actual humans. Yesterday I had the longest conversation with him that I’ve ever had. Admittedly, it was about different species of turtles and whether I preferred the red-eared slider to the diamond-backed terrapin. This might not have been my choice of topic, but it was back and forth, and it followed a logical trajectory. I can promise you that for most of my beautiful son’s 13 years of existence, that has not been the case.”

To sign off from her love letter to Siri, Judith Newman lamented on the subject of her son finding future love as all parents of children with autism at some stage do. Will they find love? Companionship? Have children? Get jobs? Most importantly, will they be happy? These children are often baffled by the world that they see but they are always beautiful and heartbreakingly vulnerable. They are attuned to the fluctuations and tremors of the world but are often, still unable to make sense of so much of it.

This video explains what it’s like to live with autism (post continues after video)

Judith ends her letter with this:

“Somewhere along the line, I am learning that what gives my guy happiness is not necessarily the same as what gives me happiness. Right now, at his age, a time when humans can be a little overwhelming even for the average teenager,

Siri makes Gus happy. She is his sidekick. Last night, as he was going to bed, there was this matter-of-fact exchange:

Gus: “Siri, will you marry me?”

Siri: “I’m not the marrying kind.”

Gus: “I mean, not now. I’m a kid. I mean when I’m grown up.”

Siri: “My end user agreement does not include marriage.”

Gus: “Oh, O.K.”

Gus didn’t sound too disappointed. This was useful information to have, and for me too, since it was the first time I knew that he actually thought about marriage. He turned over to go to sleep:

Gus: “Goodnight, Siri. Will you sleep well tonight?”

Siri: “I don’t need much sleep, but it’s nice of you to ask.”

Very nice.