SIEMENS

The sun is rising from behind the mountains of Peru and making the waters of the lake sparkle like a sea of diamonds. The 80-square-meter floating island of reeds on which Juán, the tribal elder, lives with three other families rocks gently in the morning breeze and makes small rippling waves in the water. Women wearing bowler hats, colorful skirts, and hip-length braids are sitting at their looms. Nearby, men are weaving bundles of reeds together in order to expand their floating home. Juán is not only the head of the tribe but also its shaman. His people believe he can foretell the future by reading coca leaves.

The old man picks up a couple of the fibrous green plants, shakes them, and spreads the leaves on the ground. “Today the doctors will be coming again,” announces the oracle with a sly wink. Around him, the children listen to his words with wide-open eyes. What they don’t know is that Juán himself has arranged this visit from the doctors.

Just a few years ago, this island did not even have electricity, and its inhabitants — the Uros — all earned a living from handicrafts. But those days are long gone. Four years ago the Peruvian government launched a development program here. As part of the program, highly efficient solar panels were installed on the pointed roofs of the Uros’ huts. This enabled them to produce electricity, which powers, for example, the organic LEDs that were donated to the village. The LEDs, which are attached like paper-thin tiles to the ceilings, now provide warm light inside the huts. The solar panels also power the two small electric outboard motors that are used to steer the floating island along the lake shore.

Because each hut now also has WLAN and tablet PCs, the children can participate in a distance learning program. “I’m a fisherman and a boat builder — but we have to be realistic. Fish stocks are decreasing, and life on these islands is getting harder. We want things to be better for our young people,” says Juán. In the future, the best students will receive scholarships so that they can go to universities in other parts of the country. The state-owned energy supplier has also connected the islands with Peru’s smart power grid via a sea cable, so Juán can now feed surplus solar electricity into the national grid and earn some money.

Juán is also a medicine man — in other words, one of the shamans who have been respected for centuries on the many islands of Lake Titicaca for their knowledge of the gods and natural medicine. But Juán admits, “I can’t keep up with modern medicine.” That’s why he was delighted when the “Mobile Doctors” project was launched six months ago. In an initial step, the island inhabitants’ medical data was registered in the national gene and proteome database. Using this data, doctors located far away were able to create profiles of individuals with illnesses and develop customized therapies for them. In the meantime, doctors have been traveling to the islands to implement these therapies. Juán helps them draw up a schedule for their visits.

“There they are, children! Luíz, bring Grandma and Grandpa to the doctors’ bus,” Juán calls out, pointing to a vehicle more reminiscent of a rocket than a bus. The cockpit is jammed with computers, sensors, and cameras. Navigation devices use entered target coordinates to drive the vehicle as though by magic. A driver is no longer needed, strictly speaking, but in view of the condition of the roads there is always one on hand.

The vehicle, which serves as a mobile hospital, also has another advantage — an independent electricity network. Thanks to this feature, doctors can travel to even the remotest regions and still have enough power for onboard medical equipment. The vehicle is equipped with rooftop solar cells, several electric motors, an emergency generator, and a wind turbine that can be folded out when needed. In other words, it doesn’t need an external energy supply.

Luisa, the doctor, turns to Grandma Viviana and says “Kamisaraki,” by way of a greeting. But instead of answering, the old lady just giggles. Luisa taps on her paper-thin tablet PC and points to the hologram of an ear that suddenly appears. “Can you see this, Viviana?” she asks. “Today we’re going to set tiny bio-tabs into your ears right here,” she says, pointing to a spot on the hologram. “You won’t feel anything, and tomorrow you’ll hear as well as a 16-year-old.” She is speaking very loudly, because she knows that Viviana can hardly hear anything. The bio-tab is a state-of-the-art hearing aid that is set into both ear canals and has brought stereo hearing to a state of perfection. Viviana smiles shyly and nods.

In the meantime, Harvey, a doctor in the bus, is scanning the head of 70-year-old Pedro, after having first injected him with a biomarker. During a previous visit, Pedro was informed about Alzheimer’s, because the gene and proteome database had provided the initial indications that he had a genetic predisposition to this disease. And in fact, the first signs of Alzheimer’s can already be seen on the MRI scan. “These are the spots where the amyloid plaques caused by Alzheimer’s will show up if we don’t take the necessary steps right now,” says Harvey. “With your permission, I’m going to implant a medicine dosage device in your body that will release certain substances at predefined times. These will slow down the progress of the disease or may even halt it completely. The device is also connected with our hospital via a data interface so that we can regularly check that it’s working okay.” But Pedro isn’t listening — he is much too fascinated by the projected image of his brain. Wide-eyed, he is trying to get hold of the hologram — unsuccessfully, of course, because his fingers are literally whisking through the projection.

In the course of the day, the team performs 20 lab tests and notes the results in digital patient files. It also compares the results with those of other patients as well as with the data in the gene and proteome database. Finally, Adam, a specialist in respiratory diseases, unpacks a device about the size of a mobile phone. Using this device, he examines the children’s breath for signs of asthma or tuberculosis with the help of gas sensors. The aim is to reduce the occurrence of these diseases by 30 percent by the end of the year.
As the hospital bus departs, the moon has already risen high above the lake. Juán waves goodbye as his island disappears in the wisps of fog winding through the ice-cold night.