Thermodynamic systems in housing

Kragen Javier Sitaker, 2016-06-28 (24 minutes)

Much of the business of a house comes down to controlling the flow of a few crucial commodities:

  1. Heat;
  2. Light;
  3. Air;
  4. Water, whether as humidity or liquid;
  5. Noise.

(This is also true, incidentally, of gardening, of which more later.)

This is a Fullerian view of a house as a dwelling-machine, rather than a structural engineering effort to resist its own weight. It’s also a sort of instrumentalist worldview: the house is designed for CONTROL, so that its owners can use that control to experience comfort.

In its crudest form, a house is just an enclosure to restrict the flow of all four of these commodities. The roof and walls stop the rain from soaking the space beneath, the sunlight from heating it, the wind from casting it into disarray, the cold night from chilling it, and the inhabitants from scaring the animals with their gasps and ululations. In nature, all five of these elements generally arrive together and depart together, and to exclude one is to exclude another.

But too much restriction is usually bad, even fatal. If heat cannot escape, an inhabited dwelling will eventually cook its inhabitants until they cease to heat it with their body heat; if light cannot enter, the inhabitants are blinded; if air cannot enter, they suffocate; if water cannot exit, everything becomes waterlogged with their breath; and if noise cannot enter, well, perhaps nothing bad happens.

More elaborate contrivances allow us to separate these five elements to some extent, reducing the necessity to compromise our needs between them:

But there are a variety of other techniques, less widely used, some even entirely speculative, which promise to offer better tradeoffs. Some of these are proven but not widely known.

Ideally, many or all of these systems would be available to the house-dweller to deploy as they saw fit, rather than hooked up in a fixed topology at build time; heat and cold reservoirs at various temperatures would be continuously replenished when possible, thermostats and humidistats would be programmed to provide a healthy diurnal variation in the living space, and when excess energy was available, it could be spent on greater illumination or radiant heating.

While such control of the indoor climate is pleasant for humans, we can after all put on a coat or take a cool bath if we’re uncomfortable. For gardening, however, the differences in productivity from even small changes in temperature can be immense. More factors begin to matter — you care not only about the soil’s temperature and humidity, but also its pH and its contents of nitrogen, phosphorus, potassium, and sulfur; and the carbon dioxide content of the air has a significant effect on plant growth. (You could obtain carbon dioxide by calcining calcium or magnesium carbonate, which you then deploy again as air scrubbers.)

In most climates, this level of climate control ought to enable immense gains in agricultural productivity: you should be able to grow sugarcane, bamboo, corn, squash, or rice even at periarctic latitudes, and with CO₂ supplementation, they should grow even faster than in their naturally optimal environments.

Plumbing with crossbars

Passing air through pipes or ducts is an efficient way to move two or three of our five crucial commodities: heat, air, and water in the form of humidity. Even if we want to heat or cool liquid water, for example for washing dishes or laundry or for a shower, it’s probably a good idea to use air to transfer the heat or cool from the relevant reservoir to a heat exchanger for the water.

If we have the desire to

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