SIEMENS

There it is — the Manhattan of the desert!" After a short ride down some steep reddish-brown cliffs, French architect François Runné is overwhelmed as he gazes on the clay houses of Shibam. "Yes, it’s really amazing, isn’t it?" says his college friend, urban planner Bassam Haj Ali, who has halted his horse next to Runné’s. "Five hundred clay buildings, some of them 30 m high. And just imagine, the oldest house was built when Columbus set out westwards to find a sea route to India." But then he sighs, "Just a few years ago this magical place was almost destroyed." "Yes, I read something about that," says François. "The city used to be a trade hub of the Arab world, but with the advent of modern means of transportation it lost significance. People moved away, and the houses and the infrastructure started to deteriorate. It was a vicious circle."
"That didn’t start to happen until the beginning of this millennium," explains his friend. "An international development company came to our city along with some government representatives. They built schools, dug deep wells to revive oases in the surrounding region, and thus helped local farmers reap rich harvests. Meanwhile, they trained local craftsmen to restore the clay houses not only with the traditional methods but also by combining these methods with state-of-the-art technology whose efficiency would offset the additional costs. Thanks to the know-how they acquired, the craftsmen became sought-after workers throughout the country. As the years went on, the city regained its former prosperity and was able to take over responsibility for the project. Ever since then I’ve wanted to be part of it."
François, who is squinting because of the bright sunlight, smiles at his friend. "By all reports, you’ve been successful, too," he says. Bassam smiles back at him. "As you know, modesty isn’t one of my strong points. Today Shibam is one of the most modern cities in the Arab world," he says. François looks at him in surprise. "Modern? I only see ancient-looking clay houses," he answers.
Bassam laughs and pulls a device resembling a flashlight out of his belt pouch. "The important thing is what’s behind the scenes," he says as he presses a button. The device emits a small cloud of steam that settles to the ground at a point between Shibam and the two friends. A short time later, images start to appear in the steam. "Wow, it’s a pico projector that creates its own monitor screen out of steam," François marvels, as Bassam once again presses a button on the device. Now a deep well and a system of pipelines appear in the cloud of steam. It looks as though the pipeline system runs directly under the city.
"This was one of the first modernization projects — the reconstruction of the water supply and sewer systems," says Bassam. "New deep wells were dug, and the water supply network and water treatment facilities were built and equipped with fully-automatic control technology — initially in virtual form. That way we could coordinate the countless components of the network on the computer, so that everything was working perfectly even before the first section of the pipeline had been laid. As a result, we were able to provide the city’s inhabitants with access to clean drinking water as soon as possible."
François nods in approval. Bassam presses yet another button. The water systems disappear, and in their place one of the clay houses opens up as if by magic, revealing a monitor surrounded by sensors. "What’s that?" asks François curiously. "That’s a very special feature we’ve developed," answers Bassam. "The clay the houses are built of is at risk of damage from the rains in this region, which are rare but torrential. So we’ve installed radio sensors in the walls of the houses. The sensors continuously monitor the material of every building, automatically analyze the data and display their readings in an easily-understandable form on a small monitor embedded in the wall. If the material is becoming porous, the system sounds an alarm and automatically contacts our construction office."
"What do you do when it’s time to replace the sensors?" François asks. "That is not a problem," replies Bassam. "These sensors are self-sufficient with regard to their energy supply. They generate electricity from the heat of the sun in the house walls thanks to microconverters, so they don’t have any batteries to change. That way we only have to replace these wonderful measuring devices when we regularly repair the clay walls. Incidentally, we also use such sensors to monitor the status of the pump systems and motors of our water systems. But in those locations they get their energy from vibrations."
"I’m really impressed," says François, who has just seen something glittering on the horizon of the plateau. "Are those mirrors over there?" "That’s our solar thermal power plant, from which we get our CO₂-free electricity. We also sell some of the electricity to other cities in the region," explains Bassam. "But I don’t see any power lines," remarks François. His friend presses the button again and the display cloud shows underground cables stretching from the houses of Shibam to the power plant’s countless parabolic mirrors. "As I told you," says Bassam with a grin, "most of the action is behind the scenes. That’s even true of the street lighting. We’ve put up streetlights with energy-saving LED lamps in public squares, but in the narrow alleys between the houses we’ve equipped the outer walls with paper-thin organic light-emitting diodes, or OLEDs, which are invisible in the daytime." "That proves it," exclaims François. "You always were a bright student, but when it came to practical matters in our college days you were a bit slow. Are you still that way today?" "I’ll show you," grumbles Bassam as he sticks his pico projector back in his pouch and spurs his horse on. "First one to reach the city is the winner!"