The Peach Report

One of Google’s new tools is called Google Voice. Surely this service is part of company’s plot to make all of us cheerfully turn over our personal data*, but I signed up anyway.

The service is touted as a way to manage your phones and voicemails. I was intrigued by its transcription tool, which promised to transcribe my voicemails and send the text to me in an e-mail. As a journalist, I spend many hours transcribing the text of recorded interviews, and so I’m interested in auto-transcription technologies. I wondered how well Google’s robot typists would work, so I gave them a really hard test.

Using a friend’s cell phone, I called my voicemail and read aloud passages from literature’s great works.

First up was Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. The original:

When they were gone, Elizabeth, as if intending to exasperate herself as much as possible against Mr. Darcy, chose for her employment the examination of all the letters which Jane had written to her since her being in Kent. They contained no actual complaint, nor was there any revival of past occurrences, or any communication of present suffering.

Robots:

when they were going on. I was a bit as it intending to exasperated or stop as much as possible. Okay, mister. Darcy shows for him limit the examination of all the letters switch Jean had written to her since her being in Kent they contain no actual complaint, nor was there any revival of past occurrences or any communication of presence of for a

Abominable. Google Voice can recognize “Mr. Darcy,” but renders “Elizabeth as “I was a bit”?

Clearly, Austen is a difficult selection. (I had trouble with her when I first tried to read “Emma” as a 13-year-old.) And English syntax has changed a bit since the book was published in 1813.

So I also tried the following books. You can judge Google Voice’s prowess for yourself.

Oryx and Crake
Original:

Snowman wakes before dawn. He lies unmoving, listening to the tide coming in, wave after wave sloshing over the various barricades, wish-wash, wish-wash, the rhythm of heartbeat. He would so like to believe he is still asleep.

Robots:

No man weeks before dawn. He lives. I’m moving listening to. I’d coming in, please ask away. Washing over the various decade wish wash wish wash the rhythm of a heart beat you would still like to believe he’s still asleep.

It Sucked and Then I Cried

Original:

My husband has great hair, but even more impressive than that, he has impeccable taste in socks. And then there’s his soft skin, pale white and scented with aftershave, always tempting me to press my nose in an ugly way to the side of his neck. He is a good person, someone who genuinely cares about other people and wants to see other people succeed. He loves his friends and family, he doesn’t cheat on his taxes, and he usually lets me have the last bite of ice cream.

Robots:

My husband has great hair, but even more impressive than that he has impeccable taste in stock and then there’s his soft skin pale wait incentives with. After Shave always tempting me to pressed my nose in and agree way to the side of his neck. Hey, it’s a good person, someone who genuinely cares about other people and wants to see other people, 6 feet. He loves his family and friends. He doesn’t cheat on his taxes and he usually lets me half the last bite of ice cream.

Hot, Flat and Crowded
Original:

In June 2004, I was visiting London with my daughter Orly, and one evening we went to see the play “Billy Elliot” at a theater near Victoria Station. During intermission, I was standing up, stretching my legs in the aisle next to my seat, when a stranger approached and asked me, “Are you Mr. Friedman?”

Robots:

In June 2004. I was visiting London with my daughter, or at least, and one evening, we went to see the place Billy Elliot at the either near Victoria station during intermission. I was standing up checking my legs in the auto next to my seat West Ranger push been asked me, you, mister. Friedman.

In Google’s defense, when I left a realistic message, I got the following, which is perfectly accurate.

“Hi. This is Sara, I’m sorry I missed your call earlier. Give me a call back when you get a chance. My number is (339) XXX-XXXX Thanks a lot. Bye.”

*Seriously, Google Health is more than a little creepy. The service allows users to centralize records of their medical conditions, drugs and lab results. HIPAA, the legislation that standardized the privacy and security of medical records, does not apply to the service.