And yet, this large blue house is anything but an ordinary residence: for indeed, whatever happens within its confines may be seen and heard live all over the world. Erik, who initiated the Here and Now project, along with five of his friends, all live their lives live and uncut on the Internet, 24/7. Nine cameras are permanently set up and broadcasting in the living-room, the kitchen, the dining room, and in each bedroom on the second floor. And here, when we refer to "cameras", we're not speaking of the small, cheap webcams which many have become accustomed to, but instead high-end digital video cameras--each one broadcasting professional-grade full-motion video with audio live to the web. Fixed on a custom-built mobile tripod, and equipped with powerful zoom lenses, each camera can be easily moved to obtain video of even the farthest corners of any given room.

Lights and projectors are placed everywhere within the house to provide a soft, diffuse light--this allows for an optimal video signal to be broadcast throughout the day as well as all hours of the evening. Sound has been carefully treated as well. Both floors are surrounded with ultra-sensitive microphones: about forty of them, some clipped onto cameras, others secured to the walls and ceilings, and still others hidden behind a vase or a random piece of furniture. There are also a number of acoustic adaptive frames on some parts of the walls, in order to improve the overall sound quality. All of the cables involved converge to a room on the ground floor, where two computers, ten video encoding servers and three sound-mixer systems are stored. At the end of all this, a high speed Internet line sends the signal to a specialized server based in California--one that is able to deal with thousands of connections simultaneously.

Moreover, Here and Now is a fully interactive system. Wherever they may be--in New York, Paris or Tokyo--spectators may take part in the lives of the housemoutes through a live chat channel. As soon as a message is sent to the web site, it comes out on every computer's screen in the house (two on the first floor, one in every room, and even a notebook computer connected via infrared). And to answer, Erik and his group don't need to use any keyboard, they simply have to speak aloud.

When you first arrive at the house, you notice that, initially, it looks like any other common students' house, despite the number of computers and the overall level of technology that's present. Yet, somehow, all of these delicate things manage to survive alongside strewn cans, eclectic furniture, half-eaten pizzas, dirty clothes and constantly moving people. Lisa, who came to get me at the airport, enters the living room and shouts all around, "Hi everybody, I'm back. This is Yves, a friend from France, and he'll be living here for a while." It takes me a moment to realize: there's nobody in the room, she's talking to the people watching Camera #1. I'm only making a little sign with my hand. Without slowing down, Lisa goes to the kitchen, where another camera is on with people watching as well. She introduces me again. Sharon is in here too, cooking a meal involving leeks. Almost at once, both friends start talking about random things, all without paying any attention to the camera whatsoever. Suddenly, Sharon holds a leek in front of the lens and explains the right manner in which to cut it in order to follow this particular recipe's instructions. Then, she turns back to her private conversation, easygoing and pleasant.

In the dining room, Joe is trying to get a few sport clothes of his from a pile of dirty laundry lying on the ground. Lisa directs the camera over to him, all the while making humorous comments about his sense of organization. Amused, Sharon lowers the music: "Sorry guys, music's too loud, you can't hear what we're saying!" Joe smiles at the camera and keeps on searching.

Lisa finally decides to show me her bedroom. She's hardly come into the room before she's jumping onto her bed, laughing, and then welcoming her viewing audience with a charming new voice. It seems there's always a huge crowd on Lisa's cam: with her hot red hair, mini-skirts, shiny eyes and running gags, she's a recurrent net-visitor's favorite. Since she's standing in front of her closet, she starts to change. I opt to watch the scene on the camera's control-screen. Lisa is close to the lens, she dances, and you can guess what's happening but you can't quite see it clearly. From Lisa: "Oh, you know, we mustn't kill the mystique!"

While her leeks are cooking, Sharon is preparing to have a nap in the living-room. She takes off her shoes and glasses and, before lying on the sofa, directs the camera over towards her head in order to show her face while she's sleeping. "I always do that when I sleep--I think it's important, our visitors need to know exactly who we are... Here and Now has to be an intimate experience. I think of all the viewers as my guests, I talk to them constantly and treat them as if they were physically standing right here. And of course, I also expect the same courtesy from them: they have to remain polite at all times, otherwise they're banned from the chat channel. At night, when I take off my clothes, I'm subtle about it, I don't do it in front of the camera--just as I'd act with a friend of mine who'd been invited to stay at the house. Once, I appeared naked a few times on cam a few times, but now, I do try be careful about that when I can."

Lisa's been putting on make-up in the television room. Holding the control screen of the camera like a mirror, she is making the whole world watch this process. In the meantime, she tells me about the beginning of it all. When Erik told her about his project in early 1999, she hadn't taken it very seriously. Then, he started out alone, spending some of his family's money at the outset, and eventually borrowing a great deal more money to continue. Soon enough, the whole gang allowed themselves to be talked into doing it, simply because of their friendship with Erik. And also because, as thanks, he allowed them to live within the house rent-free for the duration of their time there. For the past several months, Lisa has had a full-time job with Here and Now. Sharon and Joe, on the other hand, both of who've taken a semester off from college, work in a Chinese restaurant. Mel is currently working as a freelance web site designer.

Listening to Lisa, I look at the nearest screen in order to check what's going on in the rest of the house. In the next room, Erik and Joe are playing a new video-game. Mel, the studious one in the group, is working on a math essay while listening to classical music. Everything seems simple and natural, a desirable, daily-life real show. I even watch myself, from the back, lying on the sofa: I hadn't noticed there was a camera in the corridor. I get up at once. Lisa smiles to me: "Relax! Lay down, you're at home."

In the evening, the house becomes crowded. Carol, who is a biology student, stays in the living room with her professor and the rest of her class, all of whom she has invited over for the evening. Every week, a student in the class invites the others to his or her house, for a dinner-seminar. The only difference is that, at Carol's house, the lesson is broadcast on the Internet. When the teacher starts to talk, he is very careful, seemingly a bit anxious about his lecture being broadcast to the entire world. But the younger students continue to talk, drink and eat as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

In the meantime, upstairs, Lisa has decided to begin her own weekly show: Lisa's Bubble-Bath Poetry. She settles a camera in the bathroom, then proceeds to get entirely naked and enters her bubble-bath. I'm invited to take part in the show as both a cameraman and a "bath waiter". Her show consists of her viewers and fans sending her their favorite poems via e-mail and through the live chat room, so that Lisa can read them when they appear on the notebook computer, which is perched on the edge of the bath-tub. Lisa chooses the poems that she likes and reads them aloud for her audience. She jumps from Pablo Neruda to a sacred Hindu song with no transition at all--and then to an extremely sad, oddly written poem by seemingly a very strange Texan boy.

Some of the more jealous viewers want to know who I am, and how did it come to be, exactly, that I'm allowed to stand behind the camera and watch throughout Lisa's entire show? She answers that I came especially from France just to watch her having a bath; the Texan even says he believes me. While the bubbles eventually start disappearing, Lisa begins taking her knees in closer and closer to her chest. "Sometimes, I take a bath wearing a bikini, or in some other sort of costume, so that people do understand that it's about the poetry, and not the sex. And besides, why would a naked girl on the Internet necessarily be considered pornography? That's also real life, simple. I've always loved reading and speaking in the bath". And to end the discussion, she takes her bear-toy and dives it into the bubbles. Downstairs, the biology seminar is still going on.

After this initiation, my first "Net-Lonely-Night" ordeal begins. I fall asleep, rolled up in a blanket on the sofa in the television room, looked after by my own cam. A short moment later, I'm suddenly waking up: one of Sharon's cats has settled down on my stomach, whereas another has shown some interest in my briefcase. Without thinking, I get up and toss them both several feet away. On my way back to my bed, I butt against the camera standing in the middle of the room, and then I realize: I've just molested two small cats in front of thousands of witnesses! Are they going to protest my actions? Are they going to denounce me to Sharon, who is now sleeping soundly on the second floor? I try to justify my behavior with a word about cats always falling back on their feet but, in the middle of my sentence, I realize I wear a rather short t-shirt and no pants. A bit troubled, I try to get out of all of this with a joke but, eventually, it occurs to me that this is simply part of ordinary life, and that I'm not on a TV stage. And since everyone wants reality... Anyway, I decide to turn down the light, sigh, and then I try to go back to sleep. My eyes come to a microphone on the ceiling just over my head, however: of course, even my sighs are being broadcast all over the world. Soon, I'm assaulted by another series of questions regarding life: do I snore at night? Do I talk while sleeping, acknowledging my most intimate fantasies?

Since I can't sleep, I go to the next room in order to check my e-mail, hoping that the recent "cat affair" doesn't have any negative consequences for my image. I find two e-mails: an insomniac student from Tennessee and a Dutch engineer from Eindhoven would like to know what the text printed on my t-shirt means. So it's confirmed: even late at night, I'm looked after on several continents. I simply answer aloud, to the camera, that it's a slogan for an election in California on the issue of health insurance. At once, the chatters start comparing public and private health systems... I prefer to go back to sleep. During that time, the cats came back on the sofa. Overcome, I fall asleep surrounded with purring.

Get up at 7.00, ET. It's 6.00 in Chicago, 4.00 in California. A bit early for the Americans, but it's already noon in London, 13.00 in Paris, and 21.00 in Japan. I walk to the kitchen, welcoming my potential audience at every new cam I pass by. On chat, people from a number of different countries are all in discussion, waiting for the housemates to get up. As soon as I appear in the dining-room, a glass in my hand, they want to know what I'm drinking. It's red: is it tomato juice? Not wine I hope, so early? Without answering, I only say "Cheerio!" to my invisible guests. I've got to take care to remain as natural as possible--I don't have to necessarily talk all that much, and I shouldn't feel compelled to be saying witty, interesting things all the time. There isn't a camera in the bathroom on the first floor; I prefer this, and I enter the room saying: "See you later!"

After a breakfast that is at once lonely and public, I connect to the Internet to check what's going on upstairs. Lisa is asleep, half-naked. She has directed a projector toward her bed, so she shows a different part of her body every time she moves in her sleep. Nothing to say about the other bedrooms. Mel sleeps with her boyfriend, the camera only shows us flowers. I decide to phone a friend of mine in New York, so I go to the living-room. I tell him about my Parisian life, the holiday ambience here, bars in Oberlin, Lisa's laugh. And just like the night before, it takes only a few minutes to remember that there's not only video but sound too: whatever I say may be listened to by everyone. "Well", I think, "While I'm here, I should just as well play the full game, regardless of how I might be considered later in Eindhoven."

And then I realize the full real dimensions of Here and Now: I don't care about the opinions of unknown spectators, even though there are thousands of them, but am I also watched over and listened to by close friends, parents, and colleagues? And if so, how can I go about telling these people what I need to--things that others, strangers, shouldn't know? Should I adapt my confidences, speaking honestly this time and more ambiguously that time? Should I stay serious and responsible always, or, on the other hand, should I remain natural? I check the chat room: of course, a friend in Paris has just chosen this moment to watch how I'm doing in this house. Do I really want her to hear what I say? Did I talk about her? I can't remember... On the phone, my New-Yorker friend laughs. "What a trick, everybody is going to discover your true nature! Well, anyway, if no one has heard what I said, that's all I want. See you."

I ask Sharon what she thinks about this: is the right to privacy now limited only to the right to hide one's own thoughts? Is Here and Now going to place us under the oppressive gaze of our friends and family, or, on the contrary, is it going to free us from our lies and hidden thoughts by forcing us to remain consistent at all times? As far as she's concerned, these questions are nonsense: "I'm someone who can discuss personal things with anyone. I have nothing to hide from my friends, nor from my parents. I'd never commit anything that would make them ashamed, with or without a camera. And as for them, they have to accept me just as I am, which is not always easy."

Erik's case is a bit different. In order to build his project, he had to take on the role of a businessman, find investors, and create positive relationships with companies. "I've already spent", he explains, "About one million dollars, and it's far from finished. My financial backers appreciate, and expect, confidentiality. When I am discussing business-related issues on the phone, or even when I'm giving out credit card numbers, bank account information, and so on, I turn off the sound on my microphones--if I think of it in time! For instance: one day recently, we were having dinner, and there was quite a lot of wine involved... I ended up confessing my feelings about a girl I really liked from the neighborhood. And of course, when I saw her next, I soon found out that she'd heard everything I said--but, she didn't reproach me, not at all! I must admit, I was very surprised by her reaction."

In the same way, Joe has definitely chosen to go the "honesty" route: "My life is simple, I don't like to be dishonest if I can help it. If I wanted to have two girlfriends at the same time without telling either one about the situation, it would be pose a real problem; but then, it would be foolish of me to try to lead a double life like that while living in this house. Of course, if an organization forced people to live this way against their will, or placed systems like ours in public places without warning people, it would be bad; and I hope that something like that would never happen in this country. Anyway, what is certain is that we are the pioneers of a new way of life which is only going to grow in the future. Here, in America, as soon as something very new works, it becomes "the new thing", and everyone wants to follow in your footsteps, to make or to participate in the same thing you did. Soon, many people will live the way we do, especially the young."

The following evening is calmer. I'm sitting on the sofa next to Lisa. While we drink wine, we talk about our very different lives. She tells me about her happy childhood in the mountains of Idaho, far across the country, her love of parties, her wish to go and live in New York, her relationship with her parents, her love affairs that are sometimes so complicated! I think to myself that, when one is viewing from far away, over the Internet, one could misunderstand what happens here, but who really cares? With or without witnesses, it is good to live in this house. And yet, I don't feel quite ready to show myself as I really am: I think I would need a little time to adapt my life to this new environment.

Mel arrives with a friend. They want to be alone, and go upstairs to her room. Soon, they get into a difficult discussion about a boy they both seem to know quite well, who apparently didn't behave in the best way. I follow their conversation from downstairs, for they've left the cam and the microphones on. On the chat channel, people do comment, some agree with the boy's behavior, some don't. A few of the foreigners don't understand everything the girls are saying--they even call me and ask me to tell them to speak a little slower! I go upstairs and transmit the request, but Mel doesn't care: "Anyway", she justifies, "People still keep on watching. They like my stories, I've become their friend. I have a lot of fans on the net, probably because I'm the mellow one in the group." And if the boy's listening? "Nothing would please him more... He is so pretentious."

All through the months, the Here and Now crew has built special relationships with small groups of Net-surfers who spend a lot of time chatting on the #HereandNow.net channel. Lisa winks to her fans sometimes, with no particular reason. "Some people spend several hours a day watching us, at home or at work. Some come to tell me their problems. Recently, a young Englishman was in complete distress: his girlfriend was pregnant, he didn't know what to do, he came to me. I advised him the best I could... But, it didn't go very well, the girl had an abortion, and then they split up." Erik's also spent much time chatting with new friends. "I'm amazed with the diversity of people that have been coming to me. I even had a discussion with an older man, a German. There are a lot of young lonely people too, and they're pleased to see us all together. One day I received a mail from a Japanese student, which impressed me. He simply said: "So that is what living is like in America? Now I understand."

As for Joe, he keeps in contact with a few female fans: "I love being the subject of attention, dancing and playing the guitar, playing the fool when there are girls around. There are a lot of them on my cam, just like the boys on Lisa's cam--it's all normal. Sometimes, I'll invite some friends into my bedroom for a party. We have a lot of fun, it usually goes from bad to worse, but my online girlfriends still want more. This being said, most cam viewers never even come onto the chat channel--we know absolutely nothing about them and it's fine that way."

A friend from San Francisco is here to visit Erik for the weekend. Because he's a chef in a sushi restaurant, Erik has decided to utilize this talent and invite a dozen friends over for dinner. And since they have a native Frenchman at home, Lisa and Sharon decide to also cook some "boeuf bourguignon". Trying to remember how to cook, I start preparing the meal, hoping no real chef watches me. I explain the operation to Sharon, then to the camera. I joke with the sushi chef working next to myself, then he starts to explain his own meal. Misunderstandings, bursts of laughter. The kitchen has become the center of interest in the house. Lisa brings in a second camera to watch the scene from a different viewpoint.

The guests arrive. They sit everywhere, start drinking and smoking, and nobody seems disturbed by the cameras. Lisa says after dinner two DJs will come and spin their material, so we're gonna have a lot of fun. I ask them to welcome a Parisian who might see us. Everyone shouts her name, sends her kisses, clinks glasses, jumps all around. I do as well, this is it, I'm at the same time in France and in America and I feel good, I'm part of Here and Now.

Sharon and Mel don't know yet if they are going to go on with the experience, but Erik, Lisa and Joe have already decided to go straight ahead with Here and Now. If Erik finds enough money, Here and Now will move to a big city, possibly New York, or perhaps New Orleans or Las Vegas. It will be the first step. Erik's dream is to create five or six Here and Now houses, all fully wired with cameras and microphones, in different countries, even in far away exotic places. "I imagine a web site", he explains, "Where the Internet surfers can move freely from the kitchen in the Here and Now house in New York to the living-room in an apartment in Amsterdam, or in Brazil, Sri Lanka, or Finland... And even better: if a half-dozen houses like this were sharing one network, we could create a real and a virtual space at the same time, something completely new. It's possible, and I can do it, I just have to find another million dollars to do this--or, even better yet, another group like us, which really would be the best way to do it. Today, if I'm in the kitchen, I can talk at the same time to my housemate Joe in the living-room, and also to spectators around the world. Soon, I'll also be able to speak to other friends in their living-room in Rio or their bedroom in London and they'll answer me aloud, on camera, in the same way. We will see and hear each other permanently, as if we were in the same house. The real hope in the Internet is to be in several places simultaneously, to live several lives in parallel. And we are going to be the first ones to do it."