There are two women living in my car. One is Siri, the Apple voice assistant who floats around in the ether, summoned like a genie simply by saying her name.
This is the sort of thing that would astound and frighten people from the Middle Ages.
"What black arts are you wielding?" the medieval scholar would say, "that you may summon spirits from the air by name? Hast thou given thine soul to a malevolent god who promises riches on Earth in exchange for the very essence of your mind and heart?"
"No, that's Google. This spirit is from Apple."
"The symbol of the tree of knowledge, the partaking of which was the cause of original sin? The tree through which the serpent slithered, hissing his cozening words?"
"You know, you've outlived your usefulness. I'm dropping you from the rest of this column. Also, you smell."
There, he's gone. Let me open a window. Whew. Anyway, since we're all going hands-free on Thursday, you now must talk to your phone or your car or both to respond to texts and phone calls. It is the law. And no, "hands-free" does not mean you can operate your phone with your elbows.
You can do this! People have suffered worse travails. In the early days of the auto, people had to pull over, write a reply on a small piece of paper and wrap it around the leg of a messenger pigeon they kept in the trunk. Then the "claw-free" rule came into effect, and people had to learn to drive without communicating with others for the duration of their journey.