Sensor Technology - Scenario 2015

Maria-Laura takes a deep breath. It’s been a long time since she’s breathed air this clear and clean. That’s not surprising, since the young engineer comes from Buenos Aires, a metropolitan area with a population of many millions. Maria-Laura has come here to the wine-growing region in Mendoza province, at the foot of the Andes, in order to get away from the big city hustle and bustle for a couple of days. For the past half hour, she’s been happily walking through the vineyard where she’s staying. She hasn’t run into anybody yet—only a couple of harvester robots interrupt the tranquility with their monotonous rattling.

Suddenly somebody yells "Hola!" from somewhere behind the grapevines. A tanned man appears, carrying a high-tech PDA on his belt. A pair of old garden shears is hanging around his neck. "I’m Pedro," he says. "This is my vineyard," he continues with a trace of pride and a grin. "If you want, I can show you the secret of my excellent wines." "Si, claro," says Maria-Laura, who appreciates a fine glass of wine. The two walk into the vineyard and climb up the hill. Suddenly Pedro’s PDA begins playing the Beatles’ "Yellow Submarine." "Hmm, these vines here are too dry," he says, after taking a quick look at his PDA. "There must be a leak in the irrigation system." "How do you know that?" Maria-Laura asks in surprise, touching a grape as if this might give her the answer.

"Look, over there, see?" Pedro points to a yellow device about the size of a matchbox that is stuck into the ground next to the vines. "That’s a sensor. It’s part of an extensive radio network that runs through my vineyard. These little bloodhounds organize themselves. They measure temperature and water and nutrient levels in the soil, and then they send the data to my PDA." He pets the sensor as if it were a puppy. "Thanks to this tiny little helper I always have an overview of the condition of my vines. I also hardly need any fertilizer, and I know exactly when to harvest the grapes." Pedro pushes a button on his PDA. "Now I’m sending the data to my assistant, José. He’ll then know exactly where the irrigation system is leaking, and he’ll be able to repair it immediately. Of course, that’s assuming he’s turned on his cell phone for a change."

The two continue walking and soon arrive at a dusty road. "My car’s over there," Pedro says. He goes to the car and takes out two glasses and a bottle of red wine. "This is a truly fine Malbec—try it," he says, and hands her a glass expectantly. Maria-Laura takes a sip—and then can’t help blurting out: "Hey, did you know there are around 150 sensors in your car?"

Pedro takes a gulp of wine and looks up in surprise. "That many? But why? What for?" The young engineer smiles. "Well, for one thing, they make sure that your car sticks to the strict emission limits required by law. The sensors for that are only a few millimeters long and are installed in the glow plugs right in the middle of the engine—at temperatures of more than 1,000 °C. They optimize the combustion process, which is how they help reduce fuel consumption and pollutant emissions." Pedro’s mouth begins to form a big "O," into which he pours another gulp of wine. "Or take your tires," Maria-Laura continues. "They’ve also got tiny sensors whose probes can identify defects in the tire and measure profiles, road grip and air pressure."

Maria-Laura smacks her lips appreciatively. "Your wine is fantastic, but I would think that’s due more to experience than to technology," she says. "Yes and no," says Pedro, obviously flattered. "You see that building at the end of the road? That’s my wine cellar. When you look at it from the outside, it just seems like a traditional old building, but actually it’s got a lot of concealed high-tech equipment in it." "And what kind of equipment might that be?" Maria-Laura asks. "My cellar is filled with tiny radio sensors measuring only a few millimeters," Pedro replies. "I had them sent over from the United States. These things are so small that I was able to mix them in with the paint for the walls. They measure humidity and temperature and in that way ensure the best conditions for the wine to mature in. I’ll bet you’ve never heard of anything like that," Pedro concludes with a look of satisfaction, and then gives himself a reward in the form of another gulp of wine.

Maria-Laura is not impressed, however. Without batting an eye, she says: "That’s fascinating, but actually I’ve got something here fresh out of our lab in Buenos Aires that I don’t believe you’ve ever seen before." She grabs her cell phone and holds it under Pedro’s nose, which by now has turned somewhat red. "This phone contains several integrated chemo-sensors," she says. "You simply speak into the phone and the sensors determine within seconds the nitrogen-oxide content in your breath." "And what’s so good about that?" asks Pedro "I suffer from asthma," Maria-Laura replies. "Around two days before an attack comes, the concentration of nitrogen oxide in my breath begins to increase. I can use the sensor cell phone to check the values quickly and then take my medication long before an attack even occurs. But it can do even more," she says with a smile.

Then she pushes a button and hands the phone to Pedro: "Say something," she says. Pedro gives her a look of surprise, but then takes the phone and says: "In vino veritas." Maria-Laura glances at the display and laughs. "You’re right, amigo," she says. "Take a look for yourself." "Madre de dios!" Pedro gasps as he sees that the color display is now showing the alcohol content of his breath. "Your wine’s not only good, it’s also effective," Maria-Laura laughs. Pedro looks at her a little guiltily. "Would you like to go get something to eat?" he asks somewhat shyly. "I can drive you back in my car." "Muchas gracias," Maria-Laura replies charmingly—and then takes the keys out of his hand. "But I’m driving."

Florian Martini