Elena is a friend of mine. We have known each other for what feels like a hundred years. When it comes to running a household, she is an undisputed expert. For many years, I would call her from time to time with all sorts of bachelor-related questions. But then AI entered my life.
It all began one day when Elena simply could not be reached. It turned out that an electronic warfare system was operating near the place where she currently lives. Meanwhile, I had decided to take advantage of the hot weather and wash my winter jacket, and I did not want to wait.
I used to wash it by hand, but this time I was planning to use the washing machine. What can I say? The neural network gave me detailed instructions on how to do it without ruining my beloved Reebok “hide,” including which detergent to use, which wash cycle to select, and all the other relevant details.
A Fish-Oil Stain and a Frozen Device
Cooking is something a single man does only sporadically. Rather than submit to daily servitude, he prefers occasional bursts of enthusiasm, usually prompted by the prospect of having guests over.
On the day the heat finally subsided and a cold rain began to pour, I called some friends and decided to bake a fish pie for their visit. Everything was going wonderfully until, while opening a tin of sardines, I splashed oil onto my jeans—or rather, onto my apron, through which the treacherous liquid immediately seeped.
I had to act quickly, so I called Elena. But some sudden malfunction—apparently I had demanded too much speed from my smartphone—caused the device to freeze, making a conversation with my dearest friend impossible.
Fortunately, my PC did not let me down, and I quickly found the answer to the question that was troubling me.
Of course, it took several stages before the stain disappeared and my unexpectedly elevated cortisol level returned to normal. But one way or another, I was not alone in this “disaster.” Gemini was there with me.
The main ordeal, however, was still ahead. My humble Xiaomi—and when it comes to prestige, storage capacity, and advanced features, I am not particularly demanding—froze like an overenthusiastic tourist in Amsterdam after visiting a coffee shop.
The usual attempts to bring it back to its senses did not help. Once again, I felt the strength and power of AI-powered friendship. As it read my devastated commentary on what was happening to my Chinese companion, it patiently offered one instruction after another until finally—miracle of miracles—the smartphone came back to life.
It turned out that many of the apps had disappeared, but Gemini prevented me from taking any rash action and explained what to do so that they would return to the screen on their own.
When I was about to call Elena again, I remembered that she had recently started taking a siesta, so I decided the neural network could cover for her. On another occasion, she was at the theatre and wrote that she would get back to me later.
Gradually, I began to favour AI, and it turned out to be an extremely capable adviser. There is not a single area of household life it does not understand.
And here I have to admit that, eventually, it replaced not only Elena but also several other friends whom I used to call for advice.
The Boiler That Went Berserk
When it came to electrical work and plumbing, for example, I had always relied on Oleg.
So one day I called him to ask what the hell was going on with my water heater. In brief, the water from the hot-water tap was coming out in an uneven stream. The tap was practically spitting it out, and the smell was appalling—it reeked of hydrogen sulphide.
“There’s air trapped in the system,” Oleg told me. “Most likely, someone was carrying out repairs and temporarily shut off the cold-water supply. You need to drain the boiler completely and refill it.”
I followed his instructions and reported that everything was back to normal. Just twenty-four hours later, however, I discovered that the problem had returned in full force.
Oleg’s expertise is beyond question, but asking him to come over in thirty-degree heat seemed, frankly, rather cruel. So I turned to my new friend.
“Most likely,” Gemini replied, “sulphate-reducing bacteria have developed inside your water heater. They feed on sulphates in the water and organic deposits at the bottom of the tank. During their metabolism, they produce hydrogen sulphide, or H₂S—a gas with the strong smell of rotten eggs. The smell becomes particularly noticeable when the hot water is turned on, and the system may repeatedly appear to become airlocked.”
As expected, the neural network made the correct diagnosis. It also told me that one possible cause was the low water-heating temperature. And really, why would I need boiling-hot water in summer?
Following its advice, I gave the unfortunate bacteria a thermal shock by heating the water to 70 degrees Celsius. The unpleasant smell disappeared overnight.
The conclusion is this: I still call Elena, and I still call Oleg, but now I do so for sentimental reasons—to ask how they are doing and what is new in their lives.
Artificial intelligence, meanwhile, waits patiently for my next question.