Each one exists because the office needed it. The private ones are described here; the public ones you can visit.
One system for the office. It keeps a read-only copy of the books, reads the paperwork, and lists what needs a person.
Photos and a note from the unit you are standing in. Visits, basement and storage threads, walk-through videos, move-in and move-out walks. Works offline.
The walk, the price sheet next to the photos, the move-in record beside the move-out findings, and the letter on each state’s deadline.
Each home gets one link — no sign-up, no password: what’s owed, the ledger, the lease and papers, inspections, notices, repairs, a line to the office answered in place. Welcome, renewal and deposit letters draft themselves from the record.
The whole sheet on the big office panel, reconciled between the office sheet and the books, refreshing itself — and a watchdog that turns the screen back on when the building does.
The company’s paper, scanned and searchable, with the original page one click away.
Reads a lease the way a careful paralegal would and flags what a person should look at before signing.
Residents apply online; the pass lives on their phone; the attendant checks it at the gate.
The communities’ cameras, watched from the office over the recorders already installed — live, with replay — and the door systems that were already there. Nothing new bolted to a building.
A small cluster of real machines behind the office: one serves the system, one keeps the nightly copies and does the heavy work on a graphics card, one watches the cameras. Backups cross to a second box every night.
The written standard every screen follows.