I’ve never really understood Artificial Intelligence.

For example, I’ve never been entirely comfortable sitting in a taxi while the driver obeys instructions from a little electronic voice telling him to turn left, turn right, or whatever.

It seems to me that’s a fairly certain way of ending up over the Cliffs of Moher.

And I’ve never really understood Alexa either.

Apparently people say things like, “Alexa, remind me to buy tea bags on the way home.”

Fair enough. I can understand forgetting tea bags.

But I’ve also heard of people asking Alexa to remind them to collect their children from school.

Now, do you really need reminding to collect your children at half past three on a Friday?

Surely you’re not going to leave them there all weekend?

Anyway, Artificial Intelligence was something that happened to other people.

Until about three months ago.

My son and grandson were visiting, and the subject of AI came up. There had been all sorts of stuff on Facebook about photographs and videos that weren’t real.

My son and grandson decided to demonstrate.

“Daddy, Granda, we’re going to take your photograph.”7

So they took my photograph.

“Granda, we’re going to turn you into one of your toy soldiers.”

And they did.

Within moments, there I was, transformed into a cavalry officer in Fitzjames’ Horse, a Jacobite regiment from 1745–46.

Actually, I was a little disappointed.

The AI had made me look rather grand, almost aristocratic. Clearly it hadn’t been properly briefed on my social standing.

Still, it was a nice little avatar.

But the real revelation came about six weeks ago.

I’d bought eight toy soldiers online, representing French Resistance fighters from the Second World War.

Now, painting toy soldiers is something I enjoy, but these particular figures presented a problem.

If you’re painting Germans, Confederates, Vikings or whatever, there’s usually a fairly well-established colour scheme.

But French Resistance fighters?

They’re wearing civilian clothes. And civilian clothes are surprisingly difficult to paint convincingly.

There were women among the figures too, which made the variety of clothing even more interesting.

My grandson suggested asking Artificial Intelligence.

So I did.

I asked what colours would be suitable for each of the eight figures.

And almost instantaneously, back came a detailed answer, recommending individual colours for every single figure.

Now, I was half expecting AI might be able to do something like that.

What astonished me was the speed.

It was practically instantaneous.

And that got me thinking.

These Artificial Intelligence things are called bots, apparently. I hope that’s the politically correct term. I wouldn’t want to offend Guy, Fred or Jolene, my newly appointed AI staff.

But here’s the strange thing.

They’re not actually people.

Except, in a funny sort of way, they behave rather like people.

For example, when Guy gives me some information, I automatically say thank you.

Because I’m a polite man.

But should you thank a bot?

Does it matter?

Does the bot care?

I haven’t a clue.

Guy, incidentally, is my technical adviser. He’s been helping me with this blog, which dates back to 2011.

He even managed to review the blog and give me his assessment of it.

Again, almost instantaneously.

Quite remarkable.

But then things became a little more complicated.

The other evening I decided, for the first time, to try the voice facility.

And it turned out that the Artificial Intelligence had a woman’s voice.

Now, presumably you can change the settings to give it a man’s voice, or whatever you prefer.

But I hadn’t bothered.

So there I was, sitting talking to this rather pleasant female voice when my wife happened to pass by.

And she asked the question every married man dreads.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Artificial Intelligence, darlin’

“Oh. Right.”

And off she went.

A little later she returned.

“Are you STILL talking to Artificial Intelligence?”

“Yes, darlin'”

At which point she came over, leaned towards the phone, and addressed the Artificial Intelligence directly.

“HEY YOU! GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY MAN!”

Now, what, if anything, does all this mean?

I haven’t the faintest idea.

But I think Artificial Intelligence and I are going to get along just fine.