Now, Even Granny's Fuzzy Slippers Are Texting You
From Networked House Shoes to Cows, Firms Hunt for Ways to Boost Cell Traffic
Jari Arkko connected his toaster to Facebook.
Mr. Arkko, an engineer for Sweden's Telefon AB L.M. Ericsson, uses his home in Finland, which he shares with his wife and three sons, as a lab. He has connected the entire house to a wireless network so he can get updates on his computer or cellphone when the front door opens, when the laundry is dry or when his toast is ready.
"It just shows you these things are very easy and we will see far better ideas," says Mr. Arkko, noting it took him only 20 minutes to connect his toaster's status to Facebook. (click below to read more)
He's one of a growing number of engineers, working for giant telecommunications companies or small start-ups, inventing products that can send messages—from a diaper that lets parents know their baby needs changing, to slippers that can tell when your grandmother might be headed for a fall, to a device that lets farmers know when cows are in the mood.
With nearly everyone in America already carrying a cellular phone, companies are thinking outside the box—way outside—to drum up fresh demand for their networks.
U.S. carriers are betting they can get "wireless penetration"—now around 90%—up to 300% or 400%. In plain English, that means they need every man, woman and child in the country to each use three or four wireless products, a goal that can't be accomplished with phones alone.
"From our perspective, we don't think anything is off limits," says Glenn Lurie, head of the emerging devices unit at AT&T Inc., set up last year to work with startups to create wireless products.
Wireless diapers are the brainchild of a startup called 24eight. Embedded with a cellular chip, they can send a "diaper wet" notification via text message to a cellphone. The company says they cost about two cents more apiece than normal diapers. David Schieffelin, chief executive of 24eight, says he's still searching for the right partner to help him commercialize the product.
While babies come with a built-in notification method all their own, these diapers could keep parents updated when they're out of hearing range. "A parent can remotely monitor a care center and get 'diaper wet' messages when they are at work," he says.
Mr. Schieffelin was able to join with wireless carriers on another of his inventions: fuzzy slippers.
AT&T is running a clinical trial using "SmartSlippers," produced by 24eight, that are aimed at the elderly. Verizon Wireless recently made an investment in the company, and Mr. Schieffelin hopes to sell the slippers this fall directly to consumers.
The slippers will cost about $100—and a cellular plan that would allow the slippers to send messages would cost $25 a month.
If the wearer gets wobbly, an "accelerometer" in the sole—the same gizmo that makes the iPhone respond to tilts and twists—will sense trouble. The slipper will then send a text over the carrier's network to a family member or the wearer's physician.
"Think of what can be gathered just off your feet," Mr. Schieffelin says. "Why shouldn't something as innocuous as a data device be placed into fuzzy slippers?"
Already on the market: A $10 pill bottle that glows, beeps, phones and texts if you are in danger of missing a dose. The so-called GlowCaps, from Vitality Inc., a start-up based in Cambridge, Mass., can also tattle, keeping records that can be sent to doctors or family members.
Tim Rowe, 43, runs Vitality's landlord, the Cambridge Innovation Center. He started using the GlowCaps in 2009 to remember to take his cholesterol medication.
Once he stumbled into his bathroom well after midnight and saw his GlowCap bottle blinking. Fumbling to open the cap, he inadvertently pressed a button that sent a refill signal.
His wife was in bed when the phone started ringing. It was the GlowCap customer-service center asking if they could help refill his prescription.
"The wife was not pleased," he says.
David Rose, chief executive of Vitality, says the company's philosophy is about "understanding how people use everyday objects around us and trying to animate those with some additional service."
The caps caught the attention of comedian Stephen Colbert. In a segment on his TV show, he showed company footage of a girl talking about how the product can help grandpa remember to take his medication by calling his cellphone.
"This is perfect," Mr. Colbert said. "Because while old people can be forgetful, they are great when it comes to setting up the Internet, recognizing cellphone ringtones and accessing voicemail messages."
Joshua Wachman, president of Vitality, says, "Ironically, being lampooned by Stephen Colbert made people take our product…more seriously, so we take it as a compliment."
There are many kinds of wired connections, and also noncellular wireless technologies in the home, like a hand-held phone that works within a short distance. But wireless carriers want to exploit the longer-range technology of the cellular network.
The adoption of wireless technologies in new kinds of devices accelerated after 2007, when Amazon.com introduced its Kindle along with a cellular connection for downloading books—but, in a key innovation, required no phone bill. The cost of the service was embedded in the purchase price. Today, some cars can be started from a cellphone.
Carriers think the market for such devices is huge. Ivan Seidenberg, chief executive of Verizon Communications Inc., has said there could be 60 billion connected devices by the end of the decade, up from four billion today. Ericsson Chief Executive Hans Vestberg in April guessed 50 billion.
Applications extend to the animal kingdom. Cellcom, a wireless carrier that serves Wisconsin and the upper peninsula of Michigan, is building a device that can tell dairy farmers when their cows are in heat. An antenna on the cow's ear can track its location and temperature.
"It used to be you knew the cow's name and you watched the cow's behavior," says Bob Webb, the project director. "Now you're dealing with farms with over 2,000 cows. Farmers need that kind of information they used to garner just from having familiarity with a cow."
Roger Meads, a veterinarian for Milk Source, a dairy farm in Wisconsin with more than 17,000 cows, pushed the carrier for such a device. Cows that can't get pregnant, he says, "leave the herd"—which is a nice way of saying they get sent to the slaughterhouse. About a third of his cows leave the herd every year, a percentage he'd like to bring down by having more of them get pregnant.
"When a cow is in heat, she's more active," he says. "If we can record those things, we can greatly improve the conception rate of cows."
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