One apartment. Datacenter rules.

AI agents propose. Humans gate. Observation decides truth.

An apartment datacenter run the way a platform team runs a cloud: git records intent, CI gates every infrastructure change, AI agents do the typing — and a human keeps merge and apply authority. The hardware is ordinary. The operating model is the point.

Pick your depth

In plain terms

What it is. A normal apartment has one box from the internet provider and a handful of subscriptions. This one runs its own small cloud: the things most households rent from Google, Apple or Amazon — photos and music, the smart home, the websites, even the password vault — run on two shoebox-sized computers and a storage box under a desk in Cologne. Nothing on these machines has to phone home to work: when the internet is down, the lights and the music keep working.

How far it goes. The network closet of a mid-sized office, run with the working rules of a cloud provider. Three professional switches, two firewalls that stand in for each other, two servers that vote with a third party as tie-breaker, a secrets vault, monitoring, and a pipeline that checks every change before it happens. All of it has to stay quieter than the hi-fi next to it — which is why it is small, and why nothing in it is allowed to whine.

How a change happens. Nobody, human or AI, walks in with a screwdriver. Every change is a building-permit application: it is written down, an automatic check confirms it is plausible, and only then does a human read it and press the button that makes it real. Afterwards the system is inspected to confirm the change did what the paperwork said. The AI is the draughtsman who writes the applications; the human is the building inspector, and the stamp stays with the human. There is one human here, though, so the inspector is also the person who ordered the drawing — the second pair of eyes the rule implies does not exist. That is the thinnest part of the whole arrangement, and there is no point pretending otherwise.

Why the doors are locked. The apartment’s devices live in eight separate rooms — guest Wi-Fi in one, the websites the apartment publishes in another, the smart plugs, the password vault and the management tools each in their own — and the doors between them open only where a written rule says so. A hotel works the same way: your key card opens your room and the lift, not the safe behind reception. Keys expire, too: a job that needs a password gets one that dies minutes later, so there is no master key on a hook by the door.

What is proven, and what is not. Two firewalls share one front desk and one notepad; if one collapses, the other continues the conversation without the caller noticing — that hand-over has been rehearsed once, gently, not yet with the plug pulled. The two servers do the same for each other, and that has been rehearsed twice. Once as a planned shutdown: the services were moved across to the other machine on purpose beforehand, so nothing had to recover, because nothing had failed. Once with a machine knocked out mid-sentence: that time the services came back up on the other machine by themselves. Almost every machine is copied every night — since September not straight onto the storage box, but through a machine that does nothing but keep copies: it re-reads what it holds to check the copies can still be opened, and each copy is sealed on the machine it came from before it reaches the box. The box holds parcels it cannot open. Two machines stay outside that arrangement. The copy-keeper cannot hold its own copy inside itself, so that one is written to the box directly; the other is held back from the nightly run until it handles its passwords the way the rest of the house does. The fire drill — restoring everything from those copies — has not been done yet. A copy that has never been restored is a hopeful copy. The building-permit rule has one deliberate exception, too: dashboards edited by hand in the smart home are written back into the record without a second pair of eyes, because losing every one of those edits on the next sync was judged the worse outcome.

What an outside look found. In September the whole thing was graded against the checklist a company would be held to. It came out at 45 points out of 132 — not close. Part of that is real and is being worked through. Part of it is the checklist asking for a second reviewer and a night shift, which a flat with one person in it cannot have and does not need. The method, what it cost, and the places where the grading itself turned out to be wrong are written up in 45 of 132. The findings themselves stay unpublished while they are open.

checked 2026-09-09 against the Proxmox API, the CI runner registrations in GitLab, the declared OpenTofu state names, and the generated network model

Field notes