The Haunted Smart House
I just visited with my widowed mother, who is living in a deteriorating smart house. (She has said for forty years that “one of these days” she will learn how to use a computer.) Fortunately she is surrounded by family and friends, so this is generally more entertaining than alarming; if things get really strange, she can stay somewhere close by.
I have no idea what this blinking red light means, or for how many months it has been blinking
My father who created and maintained the house, was an electrical engineer and early AI developer who died a couple of years ago. In the 1990s, he started corresponding with someone who was trying to create a self-driving car, and that was the arrival of the first of what we fondly came to call his Robot Army.
Original recruit to my father’s Robot Army
Just look at that cute little antenna!
In the end, he could do many surprising and remarkable things in and around the house; in the end, the system he had was also idiosyncratic and irreproducible. He built it over a twenty-five year period -- meaning, it is unique, it is peculiar, and there are a whole lot of old components and Raspberry Pis tucked around the house that we're not sure what to do with.
Lights turn on and off randomly; speakers in different locations of the house start blasting the Everly Brothers. (At least it isn't Carmina Burana.)
I literally thank God that he set up bypasses for the heat and the lighting, so when a light turns itself on or off we can turn it back the other way, and we can control the temperatures in the house without having to use his smart phone.
I’m also thankful we could unplug the speakers.
I do miss the garage door opening when you drove up to it with his smart phone; somehow that no longer works. And his phone no longer gets an alert when the mail is delivered, so I suppose the sensor in there -- or the app -- or both -- have gone kaput.
My mother has become fond of his last robot, because unlike a cat, it does not need a litter box, and unlike a dog, you do not need to take it for walks in all weather.
The last recruit… and, it is also cute!
But it still has needs.
Nobody HAS a smart house, like you might have, say, a paperback novel, or like an Allen wrench. You KEEP a smart house. You keep a smart house, like you might keep a rare and fussy orchid.
It's a hobby.
It can be a very useful hobby, by the way! When my parents traveled, my father could manage several things at the house.
My own personal filing system is another such hobby. I have over-organized my personal documents and household documents. When I am gone, perhaps it will make things a little easier for my family to find what they need; but I am under no illusions that my beautiful! and comprehensive! and may I say, elegant? filing system will be maintained after I go.
Once the keeper moves on, unless there is a qualified replacement keeper willing to commit hundreds of volunteer hours to step up, level up, and keep it up, whatever was being kept most likely will disintegrate from neglect.
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Notes
This blog post started from a conversation in one of my favorite corners of the internet, about Terry Godier's post, "The Last Quiet Thing."
via Isaac Greene
References
The Last Quiet Thing, Terry Godier. Available at: https://terrygodier.com/the-last-quiet-thing (Accessed: March 19, 2026).