Earlier this year, the venerable bath fixtures manufacturer Kohler produced a new toilet, the Numi. The Numi features a touch-screen remote control. The Numi washes and dries its user.
The Numi costs $6,400 (Rs 29,74,738) or 81 times the price of the basic throne at Home Depot. Why would anyone want a high-tech, $6,400 toilet? To try to answer that question, I borrowed a Numi for a month and used it in my home.
The most striking feature of the Numi is what you don't get: any visible levers or buttons. All the Numi controls are handled through a touch-screen remote control that is somewhat larger than an iPod touch.
That remote controls flushing, cleaning, drying, music, heating and other settings and preferences; combinations of preferences can be stored in user profiles for different family members. When not in use, the remote docks in a magnetic charging cradle that can be mounted on the wall. There are backup buttons at the rear of the toilet just in case the remote is not working.
Then there’s the Numi's design. The toilet, when closed, is a large white rhombus that sits in your bathroom. It does not say “toilet” so much as "giant building block from Lego: the Marcel Breuer Collection." The rear panels are translucent, and LED lights gently illuminate the toilet when the Numi's sensor determines that the room has gone dark. Another LED is mounted in the bowl itself for additional nighttime guidance; both lights’ intensity can be adjusted with the remote control.
Walk up to the Numi, and location sensors will detect your presence and cause the toilet's lid to rise, revealing the rectangular-on-the-outside, round-where-it-counts seat. If you are a man standing in front of the toilet, you will notice a blue beam of light projected on the right-side floor, adjacent to the toilet. Place your foot in the path of that beam and the toilet seat will rise; break the beam again and the toilet will flush and the seat will lower itself.
The seat, naturally, is heated, and the temperature can be adjusted from the remote. If desired, the Numi can also blow heated air from its base, warming your feet on chillier mornings. The Numi has what is referred to in the industry as "bidet features": It can wash and dry its user (there are modes for women and men). Both functions are accomplished via a wand that extends from under the seat that can spray water or blow air. Pressure and temperature are adjustable, as is the spray pattern, which can go from a steady blast to an oscillating pattern that can only be described as invigorating.
The Numi also has not one but two flushing modes, both of which are more efficient than current federal flushing standards. “Flush-eco” resembles a standard flush, but uses only six-tenths of a gallon of water (the maximum allowed in the United States is 1.6 gallons per flush).
“Flush-full” is a two-stage flush, but it still uses only 1.3 gallons each time. These flushing options can be set to take place automatically. The Numi knows if you've been sitting or standing, and can automatically activate full or eco flushes when you leave the toilet. It will also automatically lower the seat and close the lid when you are away -- perhaps saving some marriages.
Despite the charms, there is still the problem of technological overkill. When you add a computer to something, you are also adding the kinds of problems computers have. One day I approached the Numi only to discover that its remote had frozen. After consulting the 43-page user manual, I realised that it had come to this: I had to reboot the toilet. With the cunning use of a ballpoint pen, I was able to poke a small hole on the back of the remote to begin the process. It felt exactly as if I were working on a wireless router.
Some of the features were just irritating. For example, when the toilet was first activated and plugged in, I discovered that it played a short tune every time the lid opened. Every time. I quickly disabled that feature. And even the raising and lowering of the lid has a little more pomp than is required. While it's nice to have the Numi do it for you, you would do a faster job yourself.
Furthermore, the proximity sensors are too sensitive. The Numi was like an eager cocker spaniel, raising its lid anytime I came anywhere near it. ("Not now, Numi!")
In the end, perhaps the Numi's greatest flaw is this: It has a panoply of logical and imaginative features, but it also assumes that you have all the time in the world to play with them. On rare occasions, that may be true, but for most of us, most of the time, the bathroom is a waypoint, not a destination.