#wifi infrastructure

[cloudi-fi]

Wi-Fi Network Design: a practical guide for planning and implementation

A well-structured WiFi network design is the foundation of seamless connectivity, whether for businesses or public spaces. Without a strong WiFi network, users may experience slow speeds, security risks, and unreliable connections.

Beyond performance, a secure WiFi infrastructure is key to protecting data and preventing cyber threats. As more smart devices connect daily, IoT security becomes a top priority to safeguard networks from vulnerabilities.

Want to optimize your network? Read more at Cloudi-Fi!

[newkiqx]

Don't use any home automation if it's not local, kids. If it has an app, it's probably not the device you want.

Not just because of the security risks, but a lot of these will stop working when support stops or when, for example, your amazon delivery driver thinks your doorbell said something racist, or if you're Louis Rossman and you call them out on it.

Anyway fuck big tech and fuck cloud services and fuck always online products and fuck devices you bought not being yours and fuck planned obsolescence and fuck subscription based ownership

[johniac]

https://bit.ly/stc041625

[moved-to-slayfk]

posting here because this just doesn’t feel right to talk about in the horseimagebarn voice but this is extremely important to talk about.

my partner and i have returned to our hometown to stay with her family and my own has gotten a hotel here too (they moved to the town we currently live in after we did) so we are all safe and out of the thick of it

however there are tens of thousands of people who are not both in my own town and in the many surrounding it. appalachia will take an extremely long time to recover from this and there are more storms on the way. all i see on social media right now is people asking for shelter because their homes have been destroyed, or people asking for help searching for family members who are missing. hundreds of trees have fallen. hundreds of homes have flooded. roads are literally falling apart. preexisting sinkholes due to shitty pipes are opening up and consuming land. dams are on the verge of bursting and the only way to stop it is to release water so quickly it floods whole towns. all but one of our cell towers are down, so only people with at&t have service and the rest can’t contact anyone. over half the town still doesn’t have power. a major water supply issue occurred and the entire town is on a water boil order with no electricity to boil with. people are trapped in their homes and workplaces or out on the street because they have nowhere to go. law enforcement is blocking off roads but trapping people in the process. people have to be rescued by helicopter. our animal shelter has no water or power and boarding facilities have been flooded. entire villages like chimney rock nc are gone, and entire cities like asheville are cut off from the rest of the state and are completely inaccessible. ALL OF THE ROADS IN WESTERN NORTH CAROLINA ARE CLOSED. 400+ roads are closed because they are unsafe . that is INSANE!!!

when people say that climate change isn’t real, they don’t know what they’re talking about. climate change and its father capitalism are only going to continue to worsen lives in every way possible. i live in the mountains and our infrastructure is completely unprepared to handle hurricanes and it’s only going to get worse. it’s such a strange and eye-opening experience to live something like this when you think that it could never happen to you because that type of weather shouldn’t reach you in your environment. climate change doesn’t care where you live. it’s real.

western north carolina and the rest of the southeast that has been hit by helene need help. more people need to be talking about this so that the government DOES SOMETHING because the government historically fucking hates appalachia and it still does!!! the major state institution near me took DAYS to respond despite being the only place in town with power and wifi connection because they had to wait for the state to approve their response—they could have allowed thousands of people to evacuate days prior to the hurricane hitting us but they didn’t do anything before or after until it was too late!!! it’s bullshit!!! PLEASE get talking about this because something has to be done. climate change is going to continue happening and our mountains and the people in them are going to suffer immensely. hundreds if not thousands are now homeless. please talk about this look at the footage online of the wreckage and look how quickly our infrastructure crumbled. we need better. the people of appalachia deserve better.

i’ll get back to posting horses soon. but for now this is a lot. my friends are homeless and my family had to get off the mountain or be trapped there without power and water for days. we’re all safe but exhausted. i hope everyone who has been affected by this is staying safe. if you are in western nc, dm me. when i come back, if you’re in my area, im happy to bring supplies. stay safe everyone

[mtariqniaz]

The Importance of In Person & Remote Tech Support for Business Success

The Importance of In Person & Remote Tech Support for Business Success Did you know that, according to FileMaker’s Workplace Innovation Report, a staggering 94% of business owners find it difficult to manage and maintain their existing applications and software? Not only that, but the same percentage also claim that they struggle to benefit from the tech that is developed to aid their…

[tech-connect]

Le modem Node combine un réseau sans fil maillé et les communications par satellite

L’entreprise technologique Somewear Labs, basée à San Francisco, a mis au point un dispositif de communication militaire de poche appelé Node, qui peut passer automatiquement d’une connexion radio maillée de type Internet à des communications par satellite.

[gothhabiba]

@ anon

I think it might be actually dangerous to publish your ask, but I'm sure from my response people will be able to tell what it's about anyway.

You're full of actual, absolute shit if you're pretending not to know by now that verification processes to ensure the legitimacy of Ghazzawin's fundraisers have been undertaken, and that details about what these processes entail have been shared by several people. Several people, some of them currently in Gaza, put themselves through countless hours of work video-calling people, judging their knowledge of dialectical Arabic, seeing their faces and their children's faces and their living conditions, seeing IDs and bank information, asking invasive, personal questions that they didn't want to be asking & that the people responding probably didn't want to be answering, and physically visiting people in Gaza and video-recording their interactions, just so that people like you could be sure that these fundraisers were legitimate. If you're ignoring all of the blood & tears that went into that process just so you can hand-wring about scams, no one needs to be concerned with convincing you of the legitimacy of anything, because you were never going to donate to these people anyway. You are just looking for any plausible-sounding excuse not to do what you already didn't want to do.

If, by some miracle, you actually didn't know about the verified fundraiser spreadsheet (which is frankly still blameable bc, where on earth have you been?), then there it is. The post of mine that you're referring to never even mentioned responding to asks; using this spreadsheet is an absolutely valid, reasonable way of donating directly to families.

Now let me treat some of your statements as though they were questions (which, they were not).

How do people in Gaza have internet access?

Internet infrastructure in Gaza is very robust (e.g. in what cables are made of, how deep they're buried, amounts of redundancy in the system, &c.) because they have been getting bombed by Israel all the fucking time for decades, so they expect this infrastructure to be put through a lot. There have still--if you've been following the situation at all--been several outages caused by damage that Ghazzawin have needed to repair. Though I do have to say that I find it odd that you doubt Ghazzawin have internet access, but also say that you buy eSims...?

A lot of people right now are indeed connected via eSim, which to my understanding only need to connect to wifi once, right when they're activated. People put themselves at risk to connect to eSims because they need to get a good wifi signal, which usually means walking for several miles trying to find high ground. One of my contacts once urgently called me (this is the only time he hadn't just texted) because he had been told his friend had found a signal and so they needed an eSim right then, before they went back to their tent.

I've been trying for some time to connect another of my contacts in Gaza to an eSim, but we're not having success. At Crips for eSims for Gaza they / we (I'm on the server getting advice and helping out but I'm not using their funding; I'm using what people on tumblr have given me to purchase eSims with) keep a constantly updated sheet of which eSim providers use which networks and which networks work in which areas--because the situation is constantly changing. Because my contact doesn't have an eSim on a personal phone, she has to go to a central location to be allotted three hours of internet access from someone who has managed to get connected. Lots of people, on their fundraising posts and pages, specify exactly how they've gotten internet access, how difficult it's been for them to get it, and how stressful it is to be relying on this tenuous connection, spending hours away from their families (at high risk of being shot at by IOF soldiers the whole time), just to message people for hours straight and then go home again.

2. How do people in Gaza have tumblr accounts?

This is a stupid question. Anyone with an email address who is capable of picking a username and password can make a tumblr account. I have personally helped several of my contacts in Gaza with the process.

3. How do people in Gaza know to come into people's tumblr accounts?

This is also a stupid question. I don't really see how you could ask this question if you saw Palestinians as, like, real humans beings. You understand that people talk to each other, yes? Like with words? As soon as a few people had success fundraising to evacuate Gaza on tumblr (nearly a year ago... this news has had a lot of time to spread), obviously they told other people about it.

One of the ways that Israel conducts its genocidal war is through the destructiveness of frustration and boredom. It's a strange situation because everything is extremely dire, urgent, terrifying, and dirty, but there's also seldom anything to do. People are singing, telling stories, going to the beach, inventing games and contests, to entertain children, but also to entertain themselves. And this is the situation--with a bunch of desperate, bored people packed into a tiny piece of land--this is the situation that you think it's impossible for people to talk to each other in? Come on.

If you want to donate to Anera and World Food Kitchen and buy eSims, that's fantastic. Please do that. But if you are as ignorant of the particulars of what this situation is like as your ask makes you appear, then I hope you refrain from speaking on what the situation is like.

I've been nattering on for a long time so here's my call to action:

Decide what you're capable of giving right now, or the next time you get paid

Scroll down on the vetted fundraiser spreadsheet and find someone very low on funds, or with injured children who urgently need treatment or evacuation, and give that money.

AND / OR give it to the PCRF or the IRW

[ayeforscotland]

Hi! Saw your Data flow posts, and just asking to check if I've understood correctly: is the issue here (I'm some of the examples you mentioned about a project not working because they had discounted something, for instance) what's succinctly represented in the xkcd Dependency?

https://xkcd.com/2347/

Just so folk don't have to follow the link - here is the xkcd

So this is a great example of a dependency, something that's vital to a single or multiple other processes or assets.

'Impact Analysis' is something that organisations need to do either to preempt something going wrong in order to build contingencies OR something that organisations need to be able to understand *when* something goes wrong.

But while the comic above is focused on modern digital infrastructure (which in the context I refer to Dataflow is more focused on Routers and Switches), it's worth noting that dependencies across organisations are a lot broader than that.

For example:

Person A needs to provide a report to person B so person B can do their job - That is a dependency

Person A needs to use App 1 to write the report but is dependent on the data from App 2 to actually write the report - That is also a dependency

Person A needs to use 'Laptop FW131' but spilled coffee over it at lunch and now it won't turn on - That is a dependency

Person A has found a back-up laptop 'Laptop FW132' but office WiFi is down because the finance department haven't paid the internet provider - Also a dependency

Seeing those examples, you might say, "But in that case, literally anything could be a dependency? What if Person A gets hit by a bus? What if the Laptop explodes and burns the building down?"

And yeah, that's absolutely the case. But if you do not understand the connections and dependencies between People, Business Processes and Technology Assets then you won't be able to ask the question in the first place. Which in an increasingly complex digital world is becoming much more important!

Hope that helps, any questions on the back of that please don't hesitate to ask because I live for this stuff.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Hell-o

Ummmm I dunno if you’re still taking requests… but if you are…

Could you please do a platonic rivals Vox x Internet demon!Reader who have a “Internet killed the video star” type of dynamic? Like calling Vox things like “Outdated” and “Boomer” and Vox trying to prove that NO the tv is NOT DEAD and he is NOT OLD-TIMEY!

Warnings: none!

Navigation!!

Boomer

The air in the studio crackled with static, not the typical kind that plagued broadcast signals, but the tangible electric hum of two egos clashing. Vox, the slick, charismatic overlord of the Vees, stood before his towering screen, his three eyes narrowed into predatory slits. He was resplendent, as always, in his sharp suit and polished chrome, a testament to the power of television. On the other side of the room, however, lounging on a haphazardly arranged pile of discarded cables and servers, was the source of his current ire: (Y/N), a being of pure internet energy.

(Y/N) was a mess of flickering pixels and ever-shifting code manifest, a chaotic kaleidoscope of bright colors and sharp, glitchy edges. They were currently sporting a particularly loud pair of neon headphones and a smug, knowing grin that could curdle milk. Vox wanted to erase it from their face.

"So," (Y/N) drawled, their voice a digital distortion that somehow managed to sound both bored and condescending, "still clinging to the old box, Voxxy? Still trying to convince the masses that moving pictures on a big glass rectangle is 'cutting edge'?" Their form flickered, a pixelated hand gesturing dismissively toward Vox's towering screen.

Vox's smile twitched, his sharp teeth bared just a little too much. "It's television, you digital degenerate. And it is a proven, reliable method of entertainment. Something you, with your twitching pixels and pop-up ads, could never hope to replicate.” He gestured to his control panel, its buttons and dials gleaming under the studio lights. "This is infrastructure, this is art! This is power."

(Y/N) barked a laugh, the sound a burst of static that made the overhead lights flicker. "Infrastructure? You call that infrastructure? Honey, that's a dinosaur skeleton. I've got faster wifi on my left thumbnail than you've got in that whole… thing." They flicked their fingers, causing a cascade of holographic memes to flutter around them like angry butterflies. "The internet is instantaneous, interactive, infinite! Your boob tube is just… static, old man."

The word 'static' grated on him more than 'boomer'. "I am not old," Vox spat, his metallic voice gaining an edge. "Television is timeless! It's where heroes are made, where stories are told!" He slammed a fist against his console with a metallic clang. "You wouldn't understand, you with your endless cat videos and… 'challenges', whatever those are. I make stars, you create… noise!"

(Y/N) hopped off the tangled mess of wires, landing with a soft thump that sent dust motes dancing in the air. "Oh, we make stars too, Voxxy. Millions of them. They just, you know, sparkle a little brighter, burn a little hotter, and get shared a hell of a lot faster. Who’s going to be watching your grainy broadcasts when they can stream a live concert globally, in crystal-clear 4K, with a chat feature?” They pressed a few imaginary buttons on their form, causing a window to pop open, filled with a chaotic stream of comments. “See, this is interaction! It's dynamic! It’s not you just talking at a bunch of blank screens.”

"Dynamic? It’s chaotic!” Vox countered, his three eyes wide with a mixture of outrage and a begrudging sliver of curiosity. “All those… emojis. It looks like someone threw a box of crayons into a blender."

(Y/N) chuckled, a low hum that vibrated through the studio. "That's the point, old-timer! It's a vibrant, messy, beautiful mess. The internet is a reflection of everything and everyone. Your TV is… well, it’s just you.”

"And what's wrong with me?" Vox demanded, his head tilting slightly. He wasn’t used to having someone openly mock his entire operation. "I'm sophisticated, I’m powerful! My broadcasts are carefully curated, meticulously planned!"

“Planned? That's the problem!” (Y/N) teased, their form flickering with digital laughter. “It's all so... predetermined. On the internet, anything can happen! Someone can go viral for sneezing! A cat can suddenly play the piano! The possibilities are limitless!” Their form shifted again, briefly manifesting a dancing cat with a tiny piano.

Vox’s jaw twitched. He knew that (Y/N) was right, in some twisted, annoying way. Something about the unpredictable nature of the internet did chafe at his control-freak tendencies. He was in the business of crafting narratives, of controlling the message, and the wild, uncontainable nature of the web was, frankly, unsettling.

He crossed his arms, his metallic fingers tapping against his arm. “So, what? Your chaotic mess is better than my ‘predetermined’ broadcasts? Please, your algorithms are just regurgitating the same drivel over and over again.” He tilted his head, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Why don’t we settle this?”

(Y/N)’s pixelated form perked up, their digital eyes growing wide with excitement. “Ooh! Now, you’re talking! What battle are you thinking?”

Vox’s grin widened, his eyes glinting. “I say… a content war! Let's see who can capture the attention of the masses. We'll put our best work forward, you with your chaotic shorts and I with my carefully crafted programming, and we’ll let the viewers decide. The internet will never replace the charm of the tube!”

“Only a boomer would say charm,” (Y/N) scoffed but they were already buzzing with excitement, their form flickering even more rapidly. “You’re on, grandpa! Let’s see if your outdated tech can keep up with the speed of light!”

With that, the battle lines were drawn, the clash of old-school media and new-age chaos about to unfold. Vox may have scoffed at the ‘noise’ of the internet, but he knew, deep down, that he was facing a force as chaotic and powerful as the shifting tides. And (Y/N), despite their snarky demeanor, secretly admired the polished sheen of old-school television, a world they knew they were slowly, but surely, changing. Their rivalry was fierce, but it was also, in its own warped way, a form of mutual respect. They were two sides of the same coin, forever clashing, forever challenging, and secretly, maybe, enjoying the competition. The war was on, and the studio, and the world beyond its walls, would never be the same.

[iamunabletothinkofablogname]

thank you :DD

utmv headcanons 1-KILLER HAS FERRETS 2-Ink likes/has a hedgehog 3- Error is SUCH a dog person, if he got a dog it'd slowly grow on him lol [he'd probably do pet voices and stuff like that but ONLY if he is alone lol] 4- nightmare has a bird of some sort [prolly an owl or raven lol] 5- dust likes skirts/dresses

:0

*nom* am taking these. These are good :3

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Chapter 3: Denial and Discovery

Warning: This man manhandling you 🫠🥵😵

Ever since you woke up that chilly Tuesday morning, you felt something was off. The sirens outside were more prevalent than usual, the garbage man haven’t arrived as usual, and your wifi was gone. You assumed it was just another disastrous day in the world’s most dangerous city, but you soon learned that it’s much more than that. On your way to work, you had a chance to discover city’s chaos.

The bus, packed with the usual Tuesday morning crowd, lurched to a sudden, screeching halt. The abrupt stop sent you flying forward, your forehead connecting with the unyielding plastic of the seat in front. A collective groan, a symphony of commuter misery, rippled through the vehicle. "What the hell?" someone grumbled, their voice laced with frustration. The driver's voice, usually a monotonous drone, crackled with an unusual urgency over the intercom. "Folks, looks like we've got some kind of…system-wide malfunction. The city's going haywire. All the systems are down. We're stuck here for now.”

Your gut clenched. This wasn't just a momentary lapse in the city's technological infrastructure. This was something far more deliberate, more insidious. This was the kind of meticulously orchestrated digital disruption you'd only witnessed in dystopian movies. The kind that…well, the kind you knew how to do. But it was the kind of thing you would never actually do. The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

You had to get to Byte Me. Mark would be panicking. You pushed my way off the bus, joining the throng of frustrated commuters spilling onto the street. The city was a mess. Traffic lights blinked erratically, causing gridlock. Digital billboards flashed static. Even the automatic doors of shops seemed possessed, shuddering open and closed at random.

Each malfunctioning piece of tech was a nail in the coffin of your apprehension. This was bad. Really bad.

Reaching Byte Me, you fumbled with the keys, your hands shaking. The bell above the door jingled as you pushed it open. "Mark?" You called out, half expecting him to be buried under a mountain of frantic customers.

The shop was empty.

You phone buzzed. An unfamiliar number. I answered it hesitantly.

"Hello?"

A woman's voice, thick with tears and choked with sobs, filled your ear. "(Y/N)? It's… it's Mark's wife, Sarah. He… he was in a car accident. The traffic lights… they weren't working… he lost control and crashed. He’s at Gotham General. He won’t be coming to work…for a while…" The sentence hung in the air, a devastating blow that stole the breath from your lungs.

The phone slipped from your numb fingers, clattering onto the counter, the sound echoing the shattering of your world. Mark. Mark was in the hospital, possibly fighting for his life, because of this digital chaos. The abstract fear you'd been wrestling with, the intellectual understanding of the disaster unfolding, suddenly solidified into a cold, heavy weight in your chest, a crushing burden of guilt and dread. This wasn't just a city-wide malfunction; it was personal. And you had a terrible feeling that you might be somehow responsible.

The rest of the day dissolved into a chaotic, indistinct haze. Byte Me, usually a sanctuary of quiet tinkering and the comforting hum of electronics, transformed into a pressure cooker, the air thick with anxiety and the frenetic energy of a digital emergency. The phone rang incessantly, a relentless chorus of distress calls that grated on your already frayed nerves. Each one was a desperate plea, a frantic cry for help to fix a broken link in the collapsing digital chain that held Gotham together. Small businesses, unable to process payments, teetered on the brink of ruin. Homes were left vulnerable, their smart security systems rendered useless, turning safe havens into potential targets. People were losing their livelihoods, their ability to provide for their families ripped away in an instant.

You worked until your fingers were raw, the tips stinging from constant typing and re-wiring. Your eyes burned, gritty and bloodshot, from staring at the flickering screens for hours on end. You felt like a lone sailor desperately trying to stem a raging tide with a leaky bucket, the sheer volume of the problem overwhelming you. Guilt, cold and heavy, gnawed at you from the inside out. Were you somehow involved in this catastrophe? Was Whispernet somehow responsible for the city’s collapse? Did one of your informants misused your services?

Hours after closing, the streetlights flickering outside cast long, distorted shadows across the shop. You hunched over my monitor, navigating the dark web, chasing whispers and rumors. The air hung thick with unease, a premonition you couldn't shake.

Hours after closing, the streetlights outside cast long, distorted shadows across the shop floor, turning familiar tools and equipment into menacing silhouettes. The only light came from the glow of your monitor, illuminating the obsessive concentration etched on your face. You hunched over your keyboard, navigating the serpentine pathways of the dark web, chasing whispers and rumors, hunting for any clue that could explain the digital apocalypse unfolding around you. The air hung thick with unease, heavy with an unspoken dread. It was more than just the stress of the day; it was a premonition, a dark feeling deep in your gut that you couldn't shake off. Something even worse was coming

Crack!

The sound ripped through the silence, making me jump. The front door had been forced open with one hit.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Thugs. Gotham was overrun with them, especially after a night like this. You scrambled behind the counter, your hand closing around the familiar grip of the baseball bat you kept for emergencies.

"Hello?" you called out, your voice trembling. "I have a bat, and I'm not afraid to use it!" Liar. You were terrified.

The figure moved closer, a hulking silhouette framed by the flickering neon sign outside, casting long, distorted shadows across the already cluttered shop. Panic seized you. You swung blindly, aiming for where Iyou thought the head might be.

The bat connected with… something solid. A grunt, more of surprise than pain. Then, a swift, strong movement, and the bat was ripped from your grasp. The force nearly threw you off balance. Old Bessie clattered to the floor, abandoned and useless.

You stumbled back, fear paralyzing me. You couldn't move, couldn't breathe. The figure stepped fully into the dim light filtering from the single working fluorescent tube overhead, and your breath hitched in your throat. It wasn't a thug. Not exactly.

Red Hood.

He was real. Standing right there, in your shop. You'd seen him on the news, read the talks online, heard the rumors swirling through the underworld. A vigilante, some said. A merciless killer, others claimed. Either way, he was a myth made flesh, a nightmare walking into your reality. And he looked pissed.

“We need to talk."

He was a figure sculpted from shadows and anger. His presence filled the room, a palpable threat that sent a shiver down your spine despite the layers of firewalls you usually hid behind.

He growled, his voice distorted by the helmet's modulator. "These attacks, their comms are routed through your system. You're behind this, aren't you?"

"I run a service," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "People use it. I don't control what they say." My mind raced. Deny. Deny everything. That was my only hope. "I just… I fix computers. Broken screens, fried motherboards, viruses… that's it.”

Jason’s mask didn’t betray his emotions, but his body language screamed disbelief. He took a step closer, and I could feel the heat radiating from his armored suit. The air crackled with unspoken threat. "Don't play coy with me. You built this. You know who's using it." The modulated voice was menacing. "You gonna tell me willingly, or am I gonna have to… persuade you?"

He was wrong, but denial felt futile.

Your carefully constructed wall of denial crumbled. "Okay! Okay, I… I do some… freelance work. Security consulting mostly. Some… less legal stuff too. Pentesting, vulnerability assessments… stuff like that. But I swear, I didn't… I didn't unleash any virus!"

"What kind of 'less legal stuff'?" He pressed, his tone unrelenting.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat feeling like a jagged stone. "Information gathering… a little… hacking. Corporate espionage, mostly. Helping companies stay ahead of the competition. But nothing that would destabilize a whole city! I swear! I wouldn't even know how to do something like that."

Before he could respond, the front windows of Byte Me exploded inwards, showering us in shards of glass. Gunfire ripped through the air.

"Maroni's boys!" Red Hood roared, grabbing you roughly by the arm. He shoved you down, covering your body with his. The weight of his armored form was surprisingly comforting, a small shield against the hail of bullets that peppered the walls and shattered what was left of the electronics around us.

"Stay down!" he yelled over the din, the acrid smell of gunpowder filling the air. Without waiting for a response, he scrambled to his feet, a dark, armored behemoth against the backdrop of destruction. He returned fire with a deafening roar of gunfire, his pistols barking with a ferocity that matched the assailants. Brass casings rained down around us, glinting in the dim light.

He was fast, brutal, and efficient. But the shooters were relentless. You had to get out of here.

He hauled you up like a paper doll, pulling you to your feet. "Move! We gotta go!"

He didn't have to tell you twice. Together, you sprinted out the back of the shop, through the alleyway, bullets chipping chunks out of the brick walls around you. You stumbled and fell, scraping your knees on the pavement. Red Hood pulled you up again, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the urgency of the situation.

You burst onto the street, and you saw it – his motorcycle, a sleek, black machine that looked like it belonged more on a racetrack than in Gotham's grimy streets.

“Oh no no no… I’m not getting on-”

Before you could finish that, his hands encircled your waist. He practically threw you onto the bike, settling you behind him. "Hold on tight!" He ordered, revving the engine.

"Wait! I can't just…"

His response was a snarl. "Shut up and hold on!"

And then you were moving, tearing through the streets, the roar of the engine drowning out the sounds of the chase. The wind whipped through my hair, carrying with it the scent of burning rubber and fear.

Two cars peeled out from the broken storefront of Byte Me, their headlights cutting through the night. Maroni's men. They were gaining on you.

Red Hood weaved through traffic with reckless abandon, narrowly avoiding collisions. Cars honked and swerved, their drivers enraged and terrified. He was skilled, you had to give him that. But the cars were relentless, gaining on us with every turn.

Then, you heard a sickening thud beneath the bike. An explosion ripped through the night, a blinding flash and a deafening roar. You were lifted off the ground, momentarily weightless, before crashing back down hard.

You tumbled off the bike, skidding across the ground towards the edge of the elevated highway. The impact stole your breath and sent waves of pain radiating through your body. You clawed at the ground, desperate to stop your slide. Below, a churning, black abyss.

The last thing you saw was Red Hood’s figure silhouetted against the flickering city lights before you plunged into the icy waters of Gotham Harbor.

The shock stole your breath, a physical blow that amplified the panic rising in your chest. You flailed, arms and legs thrashing uselessly, trying to orient yourself in the disorienting darkness. But the current was a relentless force, a churning, icy hand pulling you further and further under. Your lungs burned with the desperate need for air, a searing pain that intensified with each passing second. Your vision blurred, the city lights above dissolving into hazy, distorted shapes. The despair began to creep in, a cold and suffocating blanket threatening to extinguish your will to fight.

Just as you were about to succumb to the darkness, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, a sudden and unexpected salvation. The grip was firm, unyielding, hauling you upwards against the relentless pull of the water. You gasped for air, choking and sputtering, the frigid water burning your throat and lungs. Coughing violently, you managed to focus, your eyes blurry but recognizing the familiar red of his jacket. Red Hood. He saved you.

He dragged you, half-conscious and shivering uncontrollably, through the treacherous waters. The current fought against us, threatening to pull us both back into the depths. He was silent, his movements driven by a fierce determination. We finally reached the grimy docks of the Bowery harbor, the rough wood scraping against your skin as he hauled you onto the slippery surface.

His helmet, usually a symbol of intimidating anonymity, was cracked, almost shattered, its polished surface now marred by deep fissures. He reached up, his gloved hand hesitating for a moment, before pulling it off, revealing… a face. A surprisingly… appealing face, despite the harsh lines etched by the jagged scar that bisected his eyebrow. Rugged. Intense.

"Come on," he grunted, his voice rough but laced with a surprising urgency. He pulled a dark hood over his head, obscuring his face once more, but not erasing the image that had been briefly revealed. "We gotta move.”

He was injured. You could see him grimacing with every step, his movements stiff and labored. He favored one leg, his weight unevenly distributed. You limped through the deserted docks, the silence broken only by the lapping of waves against the pilings and your own ragged, gasping breathing. The air hung heavy with the scent of salt and decay, a familiar aroma in this forgotten corner of Gotham.

Finally, you reached it – a towering structure that loomed over the Bowery like a gothic sentinel. The Belfry.

He pushed open a heavy steel door, the hinges groaning in protest, and ushered me inside. The interior was surprisingly clean and high-tech, a stark and unexpected contrast to the grimy, decaying exterior. Banks of monitors glowed with complex data, casting an eerie light on the polished surfaces. The air hummed with the muted thrum of sophisticated technology.

And then you saw them – Nightwing, Batgirl, and Red Robin – all staring at us, their expressions a mixture of confusion and concern. The weight of their gazes settled upon you, adding to the chill that already permeated your bones.

Jason was in worse shape than when he left, sporting numerous bruises and cuts that were rapidly blooming into angry purple welts. And then there was you, soaking wet, shivering, and looking utterly out of place.

You shrunk back, trying to blend into the wall, wishing you could disappear into the shadows. The guilt and fear were a heavy weight in your stomach.

Red Hood launched into a terse explanation, cutting you sideways glances every now and then. He recounted the events leading up to your near-drowning, painting you as a potential suspect but also acknowledging the lack of direct involvement.

When he finished, Babs spoke first, her voice calm and measured. "So, you think she's involved in the attacks, but you're not sure."

"She's got the skills, that's for sure!" said Jason with a pointed glare at you.

"And she’s been shot at by the Maronis," Tim added thoughtfully, his gaze sharp and analytical. "That suggests she's either involved in something they want, or she's become a liability to them.”

"She could be a target, or a useful pawn. Either way, we can't just let her go," Dick finished, his blue eyes filled with a concern that felt surprisingly genuine. He was assessing you, trying to gauge your intentions, your capabilities.

"So, what are you saying?" Jason asked, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance. He shifted his weight, his muscles tense.

"What we're saying," Babs said, turning to you with a serious expression, "is that until we know for sure what's going on, and until it's safe for you to leave, you're staying here. At the Belfry."

"Oh…" was the only thing you managed to choke out, the word barely audible above the pounding of your heart. You were still trying to process everything that had happened in the past few hours - the attack, the fall, Jason rescuing you, and now, this. So, you were stuck with a bunch of superheroes who thought you were a criminal. At least Red Hood hadn't broken your legs over this. Yet.

[the-rainbow-of-doom]

I love international train travel in Europe because the trains will be on time and come with wifi and you're having a good time. And then the train enters Germany and you won't have any internet and the train has immediate delay. German austerity is the death of good infrastructure.

[tealin]

McMurdo Internet

Internet service is supplied to Antarctica via a geostationary satellite. This far south, the satellite is only a few degrees above the horizon, and unfortunately for McMurdo, it's behind Mt Erebus. So the signal is beamed to a receiver on Black Island, about 20 miles away to the southwest, and bounced over to the sheltered alcove at the end of the Hut Point Peninsula where McMurdo sits.

The Chalet, administrative hub, with Black Island in the distance

The Black Island telecommunications infrastructure was installed in the 1980s, long before the internet we know and love today. It was upgraded in 2010 to allow more data transfer, mainly realtime weather data to feed into global forecast models. For this reason, it's probably the only place I've ever been where upload speed is remarkably faster than download speed – 60Mbps for outbound traffic, but only 20Mbps for inbound. Most regular internet use is receiving, not sending, so that's an entire base running on a connection that's only marginally faster than the average American smartphone. As you can imagine, this is somewhat limiting.

The limits to one's internet access actually begin before one even reaches the Ice. At the orientation in Christchurch, one is directed to a URL from which one must download and install a security programme from the U.S. government. It may feel like a hippie commune full of nerds, but McMurdo is an installation of the American state, and as such its computer network is a target of whatever disgruntled conspiracy theorist decides to hack The Man on any given day. Computers that are allowed onto this network (such as the one on which I am typing right now) have to have an approved firewall and antivirus service installed, then this extra programme on top of them. I am not sure what it does. For all I know the CIA is spying on me even now. (Hi, guys!) But you need to install it to get on the McMurdo Internet, such as it is, so I did.

To be honest, I was rather looking forward to a month cut off entirely from the hyperconnected world, so I was a tiny bit disappointed that quite a lot of day-to-day communication is done by email, and I would need to be on my computer a fair bit to get it. Had I known just how important email would be, I'd have installed an email client that actually downloads one's messages instead of just fetching them; as it was, the cycle of loading an email and sending the reply, even in Gmail's "HTML for slow connections" mode, took about five minutes, not counting the time it took to write. Tending one's email was a serious time commitment; sometimes I felt like I was spending more time on the computer in Antarctica than I did at home.

Crary scientists waiting, and waiting, and waiting

In a way, though, I was lucky, because I was technically a scientist and therefore had access to the one building on base with WiFi, the Crary Lab. And don't think you can just waltz into Crary with your laptop and poach the WiFi – in order to access it at all, you have to get set up by Crary IT with your own personal WiFi login. If you do not have Crary access, your portal to the Internet is one of a handful of ethernet cables in each of the dorm common rooms, or some public terminals in the main building. You can hop on, download your emails, maybe check the news or Google something you needed to look up, and then leave it for someone else. When most online time sinks are either blocked or too heavy to load, it’s amazing how little internet time you actually turn out to need.

Things that we have come to take for granted in The World are not a part of McMurdo life. Social media is pretty much out – the main platforms are bandwidth hogs even before you try to load a video or an animated GIF. There is no sharing of YouTube links, and no Netflix and chill. Someone was once sent home mid-season for trying to download a movie. Video calls with family and friends? Forget it. People do occasionally do video calls from Antarctica, often to media outlets or schools, but these have to be booked in advance so as to have the requisite bandwidth reserved. Jumping on FaceTime does not happen – not least because handheld devices have to be in airplane mode at all times for security reasons. Your phone might be secure enough for your internet banking, but not for US government internet!

It is, unavoidably, still a digital environment, it just gets by largely without internet access. Nearly everyone has an external hard drive, mostly for media that they've brought down to fill their off hours. If you want to share files you just swap hard drives, or hand over a memory stick. When the Antarctic Heritage Trust wanted some book material from me, I dropped it onto an SD card and ran it over to Scott Base on foot – a droll juxtaposition of high- and low-tech, not to mention a good excuse for a hike over The Gap on a beautiful day. It took half an hour, but was still faster than emailing it.

There is also a McMurdo Intranet, which includes a server for file sharing. Emailing someone your photos will take ages, but popping them into a folder on the I: drive and sending them a note to say you've done so (or, better yet, phoning them, or poking your head into their office) is much more efficient. To conserve space, this informal server partition is wiped every week, so you have to be quick about it, but it's an effective workaround, and also a good way to get relatively heavy resources to a large number of people in one go.

The telecommunications centre on Black Island is mostly automated, but like anything – perhaps more than some things, given the conditions – it needs to be maintained. There is a small hut out there for an equally small team of electricians and IT engineers; Black Island duty attracts the sort of person who might have been a lighthouse keeper back in the day.

Towards the end of my time on the Ice there was a spell where they needed to shut off the connection overnight, to do some necessary work. Given that most people's workdays extended at least to the shutoff time at 5:30 p.m., this meant essentially no internet for a large portion of the population, and some amusing flyers were posted up to notify everyone of the impending hardship.

Someday, faster, more accessible internet will come to Antarctica.  It's more or less unavoidable, as communications technology improves, and everyone's work – especially the scientists' – depends more and more on having a broadband connection at all times.  It will make a lot of things more convenient, and will make the long separation from friends and family much easier.  But I'm pretty sure that many more people will mourn the upgrade than celebrate it.  One can, theoretically, curtail one's internet use whenever one likes, but even before the pandemic it was almost impossible to live this way with the demands of modern life: I know from personal experience that opting out of Facebook alone can have a real detrimental effect on relationships, even with people one sees in the flesh fairly regularly, simply because everyone assumes that is how everyone else communicates.  Being in a community where no one has access to assumed channels, and is more or less cut off from the rest of the world in a pocket universe of its own, levels the playing field and brings a certain unity.  The planned (and, unarguably, necessary) updating of the physical infrastructure of McMurdo will wipe out a lot of the improvised, make-do-and-mend character of the place; how much would free and easy access to the online world change it in a less tangible way?

I'm sure the genuine Antarctic old-timers would shake their heads at the phone and email connections we have now, and say that no, this has already ruined Antarctica.  It's not Antarctica unless your only link to the outside world is a dodgy radio.  It's not Antarctica unless you only get mail once a year when the relief ship arrives.  Doubtless the shiny new McMurdo will be seen as 'the good old days' by someone, someday, too.  Change may happen slower there than elsewhere, but just like the rust on the tins at Cape Evans, it comes eventually, regardless. 

For my own part, I'm glad I got to see 'old' McMurdo, such as it was, all plywood and cheap '90s prefab.  The update will be much more efficient, and tidy, but yet another generation removed from the raw experience of the old explorers.  My generation is probably the last to remember clearly what life was like before ubiquitous broadband; to some extent, Antarctica is a sort of time capsule of that world, just as the huts are a time capsule of Edwardian frontier life.  I hope they'll find a way to hang on to the positive aspects of that. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to waste an hour mindlessly refreshing Twitter ...

If you'd like to learn more about the Black Island facility, there's a lot of good information (and some photos!) here: https://www.southpolestation.com/trivia/90s/blackisland.html

And this Antarctic Sunarticle goes into greater depth on the 2010 upgrade: https://antarcticsun.usap.gov/features/2114/

[eightw]

alright sorry i want to talk about this more lol

ive thought on this a little more and it's wild to me that you can come so close and then jump to such a weird conclusion lol. like the reason schools have chromebooks and other shitty laptops that don't work, and the reason they don't have computer labs for computer classes isn't because google and schools are conspiring against kids (or something) - it's because every single public school in north america is extremely and chronically underfunded, and google is offering an affordable solution. i've never worked with them so i have no idea if chromebooks are good or not, but if they are then that's great that kids can have an affordable device. the options here aren't chromebooks or good laptops - in most schools i feel safe in assuming it's chromebooks or nothing.

the chromebooks are a symptom of the problem - schools can't afford computer labs, either because the PC's are too expensive and/or because they need the space for more classrooms (because new schools aren't being built), so they buy the cheapest option to get devices to students which isn't always chromebooks it's often shit laptops that have windows and still don't help kids understand computers - but they aren't the cause.

also, every school i know that's using chromebooks is a 1-to-1 school where they're giving every student a laptop. of course they're going to choose the cheapest option. and in that situation, only being able to use it as a word processor and a search engine is a good thing. that's all you need for school.

that “chromebooks are the reason kids can’t use computers” post is a little dumb. not a single school i’ve worked in had had chromebooks, not even the ones with 1-to-1 classrooms.

and i know to some this will sound like i’m an evil dictator but blocking websites and not allowing kids to download software is a necessary evil if you’re going to use laptops in class.

to blame it all on google is a little weird and conspiracy like imo.

[blurban-form]

Future Brisbane

So, at the end of “Surprise”, we get to see future-Brisbane, maybe 25-30 years in the future? A grown-up Bluey brings her child to visit her parents’ house, so her kid can blast Dad with tennis balls like she did.

Compare future Brisbane with current Brisbane

First of all, nice to see the house hasn’t fallen down, Dad and Mum have kept it in good repair (thanks Hammerbarn) and it now has solar panels, as do a number of other homes.

Many things have changed:

An incredible increase in land use density; multiple medium and tall towers (like in downtown) now are common in the suburban area. Assuming this means much more multifamily housing.

Roads much less dominant/conspicuous in the hills

Look how the trees have grown.

The communications towers on the hilltops are less conspicuous.

Three waste/recycling bins (addressing the green waste recycling issue)

Drone transport (for deliveries?)

Some things haven’t changed:

Sky is blue. That’s good.

The whole area hasn’t flooded from rising sea levels…

Adult Bluey drives, or at least is using a private vehicle, rather than something like an on-demand transit service. (Maybe the drone deliveries mean less congestion on the roads but traffic has never been a big issue in Bluey-Brisbane 😉)

Inside the house is not crazy-futuristic, some electronic gadgets, like a Roomba. (I was expecting more high-tech like a Mr. Fusion from “Back to the Future” but that’d probably be by the kitchen or by the garbage wheelie-bins.)

I know my parents still have the same stereo they had 30+ years ago, and much of the same furniture.

Note that 30 years of progress has not improved how Roombas dock with their charging stations.

Some other new tech in the front hall:

Electronic digital picture frames with weird floating connections to the wall.

Wifi router thing on ceiling

Spherical thing (maybe something like an Alexa?)

New comfy chair, replacing the red one.

Density Increase

The increase in land use density in the Brisbane suburbs where the Heelers live is one of those dreams of land use planners; more density in already developed areas is generally considered a plus, assuming the infrastructure can accommodate it. Higher density means more people in a given area making public transit more efficient and reducing costs to serve the homes with utilities.

Is that kind of growth possible in only a few decades? Yes, here’s a North American example… this is where I grew up, in the early 1980s it looked like this in Mississauga, ON around the Square One shopping centre…

…and now it looks like this in the 2020s.

So that’s growth over about 30-40 years, which is a little longer than how much time has apparently elapsed in “Bluey”, but not a lot. It’s possible, and this kind of thing can snowball / accelerate once initial projects get underway.

Public opposition (NIMBY) can prevent this kind of thing from occurring in many cities.

[mariacallous]

As the Trump administration's Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) continues to rampage through the United States federal government, essentially guided by Elon Musk, the group has also been upending traditional IT boundaries—evaluating digital systems and allegedly accessing personally identifiable information as well as data that has typically been off-limits to those without specific training. Last week, The New York Times reported that the White House is adding Musk-owned SpaceX’s Starlink Wi-Fi “to improve Wi-Fi connectivity on the complex,” according to a statement from White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt. The White House's Starlink internet service is reportedly being donated by the company.

Spotty internet is an annoying but highly solvable problem that WIRED has reported on extensively. Of course, the White House is a highly complex organization operating out of a historic building, but network security researchers, government contractors, and former intelligence analysts with years of experience in US federal government security all tell WIRED that adding Starlink Wi-Fi in a seemingly rushed and haphazard way is an inefficient and counterproductive approach to solving connectivity issues. And they emphasized that it could set problematic precedents across the US government: that new pieces of technology can simply be layered into an environment at will without adequate oversight and monitoring.

“This is shadow IT, creating a network to bypass existing controls,” alleges Nicholas Weaver, a member of the nonprofit International Computer Science Institute's network security team and a computer science lecturer at UC Davis. He adds that while secret and top secret information is typically (but not always) processed only on special, separate federal networks that have no wireless access, the security and uniformity of White House Wi-Fi is still extremely important to national security. “A network like the White House unclassified side is still going to be very sensitive,” he says.

“Just like the Biden Administration did on numerous occasions, the White House is working to improve WiFi connectivity on the complex,” White House spokesperson Karoline Leavitt tells WIRED in a statement.

A White House source who asked not to be named supported the switch, arguing that in some areas of the campus, “the old Wi-Fi was trash.”

Researchers point out that while Starlink is a robust commercial ISP like any other, it is not clear that it is being implemented in compliance with White House Communication Agency requirements. If the controls on the White House Starlink Wi-Fi are more lax than on other White House Wi-Fi, it could introduce security exposures and blind spots in network monitoring for anomalous activity.

“The only reason they'd need Starlink would be to bypass existing security controls that are in place from WHCA,” claims former NSA hacker Jake Williams. “The biggest issues would be: First, if they don't have full monitoring of the Starlink connection. And second, if it allows remote management tools, so they could get remote access back into the White House networks. Obviously anyone could abuse that access.”

One baffling aspect of the arrangement is that Starlink and other satellite internet is designed to be used in places that have little or no access to terrestrial internet service—in other words, places where there are no reliable fiber lines or no wired infrastructure at all. Instead of a traditional ISP modem, Starlink customers get special panels that they install on a roof or other outdoor place to receive connectivity from orbiting satellites. The New York Times reported, though, that the White House Starlink panels are actually installed miles away at a White House data center that is routing the connectivity over existing fiber lines. Multiple sources emphasized to WIRED that this setup is bizarre.

“It is extra stupid to go satellite to fiber to actual site,” ICSI's Weaver says. “Starlink is inferior service anyplace where you have wire-line internet already available and, even in places which don't, inferior if you have reasonable line of sight to a cell tower.”

Weaver and others note that Starlink is a robust product and isn't inherently unreliable just because it is delivered via satellite. But in a location where fiber lines are highly available and, ultimately, the service is being delivered via those lines anyway, the setup is deeply inefficient.

While Starlink as a service is technically reliable, incorporating it in the White House could create a long-term federal dependence on an Elon Musk–controlled service, which could create future instabilities. After European officials raised concerns earlier this month on whether Starlink might stop serving Ukraine, Musk posted on social media: “To be extremely clear, no matter how much I disagree with the Ukraine policy, Starlink will never turn off its terminals … We would never do such a thing or use it as a bargaining chip.”