The paranoid tenant’s dream

By Teresa Küchler

Date: 23/06/05

It is just another of those days. As you enter your office in the morning, the devil in the back of your head coughs and asks: "Did you turn off the coffee machine?" As you try to recall the movements of your morning rush in chronological order - slamming the cup down on the table, pressing the button on the coffee machine, quickly brushing your teeth and then hurrying out the door - the cheeky devil starts howling. "No, you're wrong, you did NOT turn it off!" So you try to come up with a story that you can tell your boss that would allow you to sneak home, while picturing your apartment in flames.

There is a way to shut that devil up. If you live in an intelligent house, you just log on to your house computer and turn off the electricity supply to the plug in the kitchen. While you are at it, put on the house alarm and programme the door to open between ten and two on Wednesday to let the handymen in to fix the dishwasher. Everything is so easy when your house is only a click away.

When so-called intelligent houses were introduced by enthusiastic construction companies and technology freaks at the end of the 1990s, they did not turn into the success they had expected. Cross-connecting the house's electricity, heating, alarm and light systems with domestic appliances seemed doomed to failure. Complexity and high costs seemed to overshadow the advantages of this energy-saving project. The idea of having a talking, grumpy fridge to remind people that they were out of cheese appealed to them even less. And, above all, intelligent houses depend on a 24-hour internet connection, which until recently only a few had.

But as more and more houses get a broadband connection, modest and easy-to-handle versions of the intelligent house have been introduced, focusing on security and comfort, rather than on saving energy.

If the house alarm goes off, whether you are in China or in the local supermarket, you receive an SMS text message on your phone. If you are actually going to China, it can be arranged for a trustworthy neighbour to receive the message too, to check what's going on. And if you suffer from severe coffee-machine paranoia, strategically selected electrical sockets can be disconnected from the electricity supply via the internet.

Another 'intelligent' security measure aims to avoid fights in public washing rooms. Scenes of neighbours going berserk - at best spreading your clothes around on the floor for a five-minute overlap on their washing time, at worst waiting outside your door with a raised mop - can be avoided in the clever house. When you have booked your time, the house computer refuses anyone other than yourself entrance to the washing room. And since there is not a single door lock that opens with a key rather than a personal microchip in conspiracy with the house computer, there is no risk of meddlesome neighbours sneaking in to steal your drying jeans.

Once you have set the washing going, just relax in front of the TV and wait for a message on your computer screen or your mobile phone announcing that the machine has finished its work. There is no unnecessary running up and down the stairs in the clever building.

And if you are worried about the cat eating the goldfish while you're away, log on once in a while and check for yourself via the webcam, pointing at its bowl. Should disaster await, send an SMS to the neighbour via the house computer, turn off the alarm and unlock the door for him to enter and salvage the poor fish. Everything is so easy when your house is just a mouse-click away.

But there are a few not so unimportant details that can be troublesome. The house computer is a moody co-ordinator that does not excuse latecomers. If you have not emptied that washing machine within the hours you have pre-booked, there is no point trying to persuade the house to let you in to the washing room: your clothes stay where they are. In some buildings, neighbours have decided to leave a window open, just in case of mishap, which undermines the whole idea of a burglar-proof security system for the house.

And, as I have experienced and observed after living in an intelligent house, when the internet server is down, nothing works. Perhaps there is no technological way to cure serious coffee machine paranoia.

• Teresa Küchler, a freelance journalist, lived for seven months in an intelligent apartment in Gothenburg, Sweden.

With the advent of intelligent security and broadband, you can log on at work and check if you've turned off the coffee machine at home.

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