Security system took over our home

HAL 9000 (“2001: A Space Odyssey,” 1968), V’Ger (“Star Trek: The Motion Picture,” 1979) and No. 5 (“Short Circuit,” 1986), fiction all, came to mind when the real, suddenly seemingly sentient DSS/DCU-550 took over our house.

Them and Alfred Hitchcock. And Roger Corman. And whoever directed “Where Have All the People Gone.” It was eerie.

The home security system — a product of DTI Security, a Division of Datura International Inc., RIP, apparently, maybe a Division of Radio Shack (kidding) — was installed when our house was built in 1985. It never worked right.

So we never used it, ever. For 18 years, the remote keypad built into the hallway drywall blinked, but we left it alone and it left us alone.

Then came Oct. 14, and all 1980s technological tyranny broke loose. I opened the front door that Saturday to get the paper out of the yard — and the remote pad beeeeeeeped to life.

Huh? I rushed to the keypad and started poking at it dumbly. Wha-? Then an alarm went off. I do not mean an alarm went off in my head. I mean an alarm heretofore not known to exist, somewhere outside, went off.

Huh? I rushed out the door and looked all over the front of the house. Wha-? I followed the sound to the garage door, and there, right over it, hidden above the soffit, was a siren sounding loudly. The authorities classify it as the “yelp” modality of siren.

Totally an intrusion, dude. The 1980s DSS/ DCU-550 had taken on consciousness as surely as “Lisa” in “Weird Science” (1985), and it, like, shocked me as surely, but figuratively, as the computer who wore tennis shoes (“The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes” (1969).

Huh? Wha-? What the heck, Will Robinson? (“Lost in Space,” 19651968).

And then as soon as the thing started yelping, it stopped.

Well, that was some weird technology for sure, I thought. I picked up the paper, and went back in the house to read it.

Awhile later, I opened the door again — and beeeeeeep inside on the wall, followed by yelpyelp-yelp-yelp outside from above the garage door soffit, and it hit me: It’s coming from inside the house! (“When a Stranger Calls,” 1979).

I rushed to the stack of yellowed owner’s manuals on a dusty shelf over the clothes dryer. Let’s see: Oversized Capacity Plus Washer MAV-2 User’s Guide? No. Nelson 1997 Turf Irrigation Products Catalog? Nope. 2-Slice Round Toaster Use and Care Book. No! Where is it??

Aha! DTI Security DSS/ DCU-550 Security System User’s Manual! In all it’s dotmatrixy, Strategic Defense Initiative-inspired font a la “WarGames” (1983). Now we’re getting somewhere.

Only not really. Because that matrix of dots held a sad truth: If we didn’t know the code to reset the DSS/ DCU-550, we would have to live with it for the rest of our lives. Only not really. That’s a little overly dramatic. Svengoolie stuff.

So I did what any puzzled homeowner verging on distress does. I went to Facebook to post a distress signal:

“Help. We are ‘trapped’ in our house in Edmond. The home security system, installed in 1985, which we have never used, the DTI Security DCU/DSS-550, has activated itself. I’ve read the manual six times, and Googled, and there is no way to disarm it without the master code, which we don’t know.

“Open the front door or any window and the alarm hidden above the front soffit over the garage (news to me when it went off for the very first time in 18 years!) goes off for 2 minutes. I’ve set it off several times trying to remedy this.

“The brains of the system is hard-wired, with multiple connections, and I’m no electrician. If I decide I need to call an electrician today, to just come out and disconnect this demon beast, how much might it cost and who do you recommend?

“On a lighter note, ‘The Day the 1985 DTI Security DCU/DSS-550 Became Sentient’ will make a fine newspaper column.”

Then later, I could add: “UPDATE: THANK GOODNESS. THE BACK DOOR DOESN’T TRIGGER THE ALARM, SO WE CAN AT LEAST COME AND GO, AND WAIT UNTIL MONDAY TO GET AN EXORCIST TO COME OUT. THANKS.”

The back door didn’t trigger it. See why we didn’t rely on it? And then it turned on us.

“Suggestions” from my “friends” poured in.

Someone: “Cut the leads in the main box, probably in a closet. Then you can worry about a code later.”

“Leads.” “Main box.” I do not know this language.

Me: “I’m not touching anything electrical. There is a wad of wires leading from the brains box through a hole in the wall.”

Somebody posted a picture of a similar control box, and: “Unscrew the first 2 leads on the left. It won’t shock you. I’ve already checked. I believe this is the power to the box. Hopefully yours is similar.”

“I believe.” “Hopefully.” These are not words of confidence, “friend.”

I posted a picture of my own “main box,” the door opened for the first time ever, at least since 1999.

Somebody: ‘’It still looks like 1 and 2. Remember to label them. Also unplug the battery.”

“Looks like.” Mm-hm. You people are not hearing me. Wait. There’s a battery?

Someone else: “Looks like disconnecting 1 & 2 would do it.”

Me: “As they say, ‘Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to go right now.’ Nothing is clear about this. I’ll look again, but it’ll probably be worth the cost of a service call to have it done by someone who knows for sure what they’re doing.”

I added: “There’s a fire station a half mile away. I may stop by and ask if they’re into fire prevention. They can come to my house and do this for me before I accidentally start a fire.”

Then it got crazy. Someone: “We tore ours off the wall on a Christmas Eve. Good luck.”

Someone: “Your alarm system is low voltage. You’ll also have a transformer somewhere that is plugged into an outlet. Just like your door bell.”

Huh, huh, and huh. Less than helpful.

Someone: “Cut the green wire. No, red!!”

Oh, for crying out ... Someone: “If you put in the wrong code after 3 tries, the demons from hell will be released and your house will be taken over by zombie clowns!!”

So, it turned out that snipping wires 1 and 2, left to right, did the trick.

Which I found out after, lo, 29 days. Between work and church work, during the one time of year when I travel regionally for church a few weekends in a row, I had no time to figure this stuff out.

I did futilely search the foyer closet, laundry room closet, water heater closet and the rest of the house — including the attic! where I had not hoisted my girth since 2003. But I never found the alleged “transformer” supposedly “plugged” into a mythical “outlet.”

So if we went or came, we did it through the back door and something of an obstacle course through a side yard to the front.

Until that one sunny Sunday afternoon when my one handy neighbor happened to be outside with a few minutes for consultation.

More importantly, he had time to come in and, with a snip, twist, cap, and a snip, twist, cap, murder the wicked DSS/DCU-550 as surely as Picard and Data finally offed the evil Borg Queen (“Star Trek: First Contact,” 1996).

The End?

I did futilely search the foyer closet, laundry room closet, water heater closet and the rest of the house — including the attic! where I had not hoisted my girth since 2003. But I never found the alleged “transformer” supposedly “plugged” into a mythical “outlet.”