| If the second alarm doesn't work, Alexander
ups the ante.
At 6:23 a.m., lights will flash and the ninth grader's
bedroom will fill with the voice of comedian Sam Kinison, screaming ``WAKE
UP!''
The next step is more drastic still, for at 6:24 a.m.
if Robert is not staggering into the bathroom, the phone will ring in his
father's room.
Dan Cohen likes to stay up until 3 a.m., catching up on
work - he owns a computer company - and tinkering with this fully integrated
``smart house'' he created in Media. He's not at his most pleasant with
less than 3 1/2 hours' rest.
``He doesn't want me having to drive him to school,''
Dad says. ``That's happened before. Once.''
Cohen, 45, explains the wake-up feature of the system
it has taken him two years to build as he putters around the laundry room,
demonstrating one of Alexander's most practical aspects. He turns on the
washing machine and water drains into a nearby basin. As the level rises,
it approaches two brass screws positioned near the top of the sink. As
soon as these sensors get wet, Alexander knows to shut off the machine
and the water main to minimize the chance of flooding.
``Water's off,'' a deep voice announces on speakers throughout
the house.
Cohen's beeper flashes a numerical code: 92837, the letters
on a telephone keypad that spell out ``water.'' With his mobile phone,
he calls Alexander and punches in the signal to restore the water.
Like everything else in his house, this can be done many
ways. The gas fireplace can be lit by telephone, computer modem, wall switch,
telephone, voice and hand.
It's not overkill, Cohen explains. The house is a prototype
he designed with disabled people in mind. Each room is outfitted with a
different technology, so while Alexander detects someone's presence in
the hallway by infrared light, he knows the kitchen is occupied by sensors
under the floor, a device used by seismologists.
His home will announce the arrival of the U.S. Postal
Service, using a voice cribbed from America Online. When the letter box
opens, Alexander says in that cheerful voice, ``You've got mail!'' Even
the cuckoo clock can be controlled by phone or voice, though Cohen can't
figure out why he'd want to.
The Cohens' house looks like any other comfortable abode
in its neighborhood of mature trees and gentle hills - that is, any place
with its own rooftop weather station. Unless you look closely and see,
for example, that the kitchen TV has three electrical cords going into
its back, you might not guess how complicated the place is.
There are six miles of wire in the house.
Generating your own readings on rainfall, humidity, wind,
barometric pressure and temperature might seem a little much, until you
realize that it helps Alexander know when to water the lawn, or when to
shut off the outside faucets so the pipes don't freeze.
Over the months, Dan Cohen and his audiologist wife, Phyllis,
have tweaked the settings, no longer finding it essential to be alerted
at 4 a.m. when a deer walks across their driveway or a red fox sleeps on
their straw door mat.
Cohen first arranged for Alexander to notify him when
the temperature in the fridge rose above 39 degrees. He found that each
afternoon around 3:15, he was beeped. It didn't take long to solve the
mystery. He'd call home and Robert, just in from school and mulling what
to have for a snack, would answer.
``Shut the refrigerator door, Robert.''
``How did you know?''
Now Alexander beeps only if the temperature exceeds 42.
In addition to Robert, Alexander watches over Steven,
12, as well as George, a part German shepherd, and PC, an African gray
parrot who can imitate every beep, squawk and ring in the house. ``He's
like a sound-effects record,'' Cohen says. The parrot hasn't learned how
to talk to Alexander yet.
Being in the computer business, Cohen knows the machines
aren't reliable enough to run a house on their own, so his system depends
on a hard-wired, five-foot control box stuffed with circuit boards and
hook-ups. Should the electricity go, batteries would keep Alexander on
duty for two weeks.
``There's not a federal building or a bank that's more
secure than this house,'' Cohen asserts. He'd rather leave the details
vague, but rest assured, with a fully automated house and a battery of
cameras, motion detectors, heat sensors and speakers, Alexander is ever
vigilant.
The house has already nabbed one criminal. The Cohens
suspected a neighbor's dog of going through their trash, so overnight they
trained a camera on the garage. The culprit: a raccoon.
Cohen's love of gadgetry began with Lionel trains. He
was about 6 when his uncle gave him a set, and by the time the boy was
in junior high outside Pittsburgh, he had figured out how to run 10 engines
at once without crashes. He studied accounting at Allegheny Community College,
where he spent most of his time playing drums in a rock band. After graduating,
he worked for his father, an audiologist, calibrating and ultimately designing
medical equipment.
Sixteen years ago, he began his first automation experiments
in his house, using existing power lines to control simple things such
as lights. Since starting Alexander, he has sunk all his money into the
project and plans to build home systems that range from $500 to $30,000.
All he needs is a financial partner.
The house has proven to be a popular attraction for the
Cohen boys' friends. And when Steven had a recent sleepover, his dad appreciated
hearing Alexander announce that a second-floor window was opening.
``The boys were trying to climb up on the roof,'' he says.
The Cohen kids wore out their welcome at Epcot last year
when they toured the home of the future. They kept answering all the questions,
Dan Cohen says, and scoffed when they learned you couldn't talk to the
attraction's computer.
Alexander responds to his master's voice.
``Alexander?''
``What's up, doc?'' the system answers, all-ears.
``Look at the driveway.''
A big-screen TV in the living room turns on, showing a
black-and- white shot taken from the garage.
``Warm up the truck.''
The engine and lights turn on and Alexander announces,
``The van is now running.''
``Stop looking.''
``Fine.''
Cohen runs Alexander through a few more paces - asking
it the time, the outside temperature, and to start the fireplace.
``Alexander, get me a beer,'' Cohen commands.
``Get it yourself,'' Alexander replies.
Alexander doesn't get beer, rake leaves, or clean the
gutters. ``It's not worth the money to do that,'' Cohen says. ``Not when
you have two kids.''
Daniel Rubin's e-mail address is dan.rubin@phillynews.com |
