This week, some of the DebConf Video Team met in Herefordshire (UK) for a sprint. We didn't have a sprint in 2024, and it was sorely needed, now. At the sprint we made good progress towards using Voctomix 2 more reliably, and made plans for our future hardware needs. Attendees

• Chris Boot (host)
• Stefano Rivera
• Kyle Robbertze
• Carl Karsten
• Nicolas Dandrimont

Voctomix 2 DebConf 25 was the first event that the team used Voctomix version 2. Testing it during DebCamp 25 (the week before DebConf), it seemed to work reliably. But during the event, we hit repeated audio dropout issues, that affected about 18 of our recordings (and live streams). We had attempted to use Voctomix 2 at DebConf 24, and quickly rolled back to version 1, on day 1 of the conference, when we hit similar issues. We thought these issues would be resolved for DebConf 25, by using more powerful (newer) mixing machines. Trying to get to the bottom of these issues was the main focus of the sprint. Nicolas brought 2 of Debian's cameras and the Framework laptop that we'd used at the conference, so we could reproduce the problem. It didn't take long to reproduce, in fact, we spent most of the week trying any configuration changes we could think of to avoid it. The issue we've been seeing feels like a gstreamer bug, rather than something voctomix is doing incorrectly. If anything, configuration changes are avoiding hitting it. Finally, on the last night of the sprint, we managed to run voctomix all night without the problem appearing. But... that isn't enough to feel confident that the issue is avoided. More testing will be required. Detecting audio breakage Kyle worked on a way to report the audio quality in our Prometheus exporter, so we can automatically detect this kind of audio breakage. This was implemented in helios our audio level monitor, and lead to some related code refactoring. Framework Laptops Historically, the video team has relied on borrowed and rented computer hardware at conferences for our (software) video mixing, streaming, storage and encoding. Many years ago, we'd even typically have a local Debian mirror and upload queue on site. Our video mixing machines had to be desktop size computers with 2 Blackmagic Declink Mini Recorder PCI-e cards installed in them, to capture video from our cameras. Now that we reliably have more Internet bandwidth than we really need, at our conference venues, we can rely on offsite cloud servers. We only need the video capture and mixing machines on site. Blackmagic also has UltraStudio Recorder thunderbolt capture boxes that we can use with a laptop. The project bought a couple of these and a Framework 13 AMD laptop to test at DebConf 25. We used it in production at DebConf, in the "Petit Amphi" room, where it seemed to work fairly well. It was very picky about thunderbolt cable and port combinations, refusing to even boot when they were connected. Since then, Framework firmware has fixed these issues, and in our testing at the sprint, it worked almost perfectly. (One of the capture boxes got into a broken state, and had to be unplugged and re-connected to fix it.) We think these are the best option for the future, and plan to ask the project to buy some more of them. HDCP Apple Silicon devices seem to like to HDCP-encrypt their HDMI output whenever possible. This causes our HDMI capture hardware to display an "Encrypted" error, rather than any useful image. Chris experimented with a few different devices to strip HDCP from HDMI video, at least 2 of them worked. Spring Cleaning Kyle dug through the open issues in our Salsa repositories and cleaned up some issues. DebConf 25 Video Encoding The core video team at DebConf 25 was a little under-staffed, significantly overlapping with core conference organization, which took priority. That, combined with the Voctomix 2 audio dropout issues we'd hit, meant that there was quite a bit of work left to be done to get the conference videos properly encoded and released. We found that the encodings had been done at the wrong resolution, which forced a re-encode of all videos. In the process, we reviewed videos for audio issues and made a list of the ones that need more work. We ran out of time and this work isn't done, yet. DebConf 26 Preparation Kyle reviewed floorplans and photographs of the proposed DebConf 26 talk venues, and build up a list of A/V kit that we'll need to hire. Carl's Video Box Carl uses much of the same stack as the video team, for many other events in the US. He has experimenting with using a Dell 7212 tablet in an all-in-one laser-cut box. Carl demonstrated this box, which could perfect for small miniDebConfs, at the sprint. Using voctomix 2 on the box requires some work, because it doesn't use Blackmagic cards for video capture. gst-fallbacksrc Carl's box's needs lead to looking at gstfallbacksrc. This should let Voctomix 2 survive cameras (or network sources) going away for a moment. Matthias Geiger packaged it for us, and it's now in Debian NEW. Thanks! voctomix-outcasts Carl cut a release of voctomix-outcasts and Stefano uploaded it to unstable. Ansible Configuration The videoteam's stack is deployed with Ansible, and almost everything we do involves work on this stack. Carl upstreamed some of his features to us, and we updated our voctomix2 configuration to take advantage of our experiments at the sprint. Miscellaneous Voctomix contributions We fixed a couple of minor bugs in voctomix. More Nageru experimentation In 2023, we tried to configure Nageru (another live video mixer) for the video team's needs. Like voctomix it needs some configuration and scaffolding to adapt it to your needs. Practically, this means writing a "theme" in Lua that controls the mixer. The team still has a preference for Voctomix (as we're all very familiar with it), but would like to have Nageru available as an option when we need it. We fixed some minor issues in our theme, enough to get it running again, on the Framework laptop. Much more work is needed to really make it a useable option. Thank you Thanks to the Debian project for funding the costs of the sprint, and Chris Boot's extended family for providing us with a no-cost sprint venue. Thanks to c3voc for developing and maintaining voctomix, and helping us to debug issues in it. Thank you to everyone in the videoteam who attended or helped out remotely! And to employers who let us work on Debian on company time. We'll likely need to keep working on our stack remotely, in the leadup to DebConf 26, and/or have another sprint before then.

Review: Space Trucker Jess, by Matthew Kressel

Publisher:	Fairwood Press
Copyright:	July 2025
ISBN:	1-958880-27-2
Format:	Kindle
Pages:	472

Space Trucker Jess is a stand-alone far-future space fantasy novel. Jess is a sixteen-year-old mechanic working grey-market jobs on Chadeisson Station with a couple of younger kids. She's there because her charming and utterly unreliable father got caught running a crypto scam and is sitting in detention. This was only the latest in a long series of scams, con jobs, and misadventures she's been dragged through since her mother disappeared without a word. Jess is cynical, world-weary, and infuriated by her own sputtering loyalty to her good-for-nothing dad. What Jess wants most in the universe is to own a CCM 6454 Spark Megahauler, the absolute best cargo ship in the universe according to Jess. She should know; she's worked on nearly every type of ship in existence. With her own ship, she could make a living hauling cargo, repairing her own ship, and going anywhere she wants, free of her father and his endless schemes. (A romantic relationship with her friend Leurie would be a nice bonus.) Then her father is taken off the station on a ship leaving the galactic plane, no one will tell her why, and all the records of the ship appear to have been erased. Jess thinks her father is an asshole, but that doesn't mean she can sit idly by when he disappears. That's how she ends up getting in serious trouble with station security due to some risky in-person sleuthing, followed by an expensive flight off the station with a dodgy guy and a kid in a stolen spaceship. The setup for this book was so great. Kressel felt the need to make up a futuristic slang for Jess and her friends to speak, which rarely works as well as the author expects and does not work here, but apart from that I was hooked. Jess is sarcastic, blustery, and a bit of a con artist herself, but with the idealistic sincerity of someone who knows that her life is been kind of broken and understands the value of friends. She's profoundly cynical in the heartbreakingly defensive way of a sixteen-year-old with a rough life. I have a soft spot in my heart for working-class science fiction (there isn't nearly enough of it), and there are few things I enjoy more than reading about the kind of protagonist who has Opinions about starship models and a dislike of shoddy work. I think this is the only book I've bought solely on the basis of one of the Big Idea blog posts John Scalzi hosts. I really wish this book had stuck with the setup instead of morphing into a weird drug-enabled mystical space fantasy, to which Jess's family is bizarrely central. SPOILERS below because I can't figure out how to rant about what annoyed me without them. Search for the next occurrence of spoilers to skip past them. There are three places where this book lost me. The first was when Jess, after agreeing to help another kid find his father, ends up on a world obsessed with a religious cult involving using hallucinatory drugs to commune with alien gods. Jess immediately flags this as unbelievable bullshit and I was enjoying her well-founded cynicism until Kressel pulls the rug out from under both Jess and the reader by establishing that this new-age claptrap is essentially true. Kressel does try to put a bit of a science fiction gloss on it, but sadly I think that effort was unsuccessful. Sometimes absurdly powerful advanced aliens with near-telepathic powers are part of the fun of a good space opera, but I want the author to make an effort to connect the aliens to plausibility or, failing that, at least avoid sounding indistinguishable from psychic self-help grifters or religious fantasy about spiritual warfare. Stargate SG-1 and Babylon 5 failed on the first part but at least held the second line. Kressel gets depressingly close to Seth territory, although at least Jess is allowed to retain some cynicism about motives. The second, related problem is that Jess ends up being a sort of Chosen One, which I found intensely annoying. This may be a fault of reader expectations more than authorial skill, but one of the things I like to see in working-class science fiction is for the protagonist to not be absurdly central to the future of the galaxy, or to at least force themselves into that position through their own ethics and hard work. This book turns into a sort of quest story with epic fantasy stakes, which I thought was much less interesting than the story the start of the book promised and which made Jess a less interesting character. Finally, this is one of those books where Jess's family troubles and the plot she stumbles across turn into the same plot. Space Trucker Jess is far from alone in having that plot structure, and that's the problem. I'm not universally opposed to this story shape, but Jess felt like the wrong character for it. She starts the story with a lot of self-awareness about how messed up her family dynamics were, and I was rooting for her to find some space to construct her own identity separate from her family. To have her family turn out to be central not only to this story but to the entire galaxy felt like it undermined that human core of the story, although I admit it's a good analogy to the type of drama escalation that dysfunctional families throw at anyone attempting to separate from them. Spoilers end here. I rather enjoyed the first third of this book, despite being a bit annoyed at the constructed slang, and then started rolling my eyes and muttering things about the story going off the rails. Jess is a compelling enough character (and I'm stubborn enough) that I did finish the book, so I can say that I liked the very end. Kressel does finally arrive at the sort of story that I wanted to read all along. Unfortunately, I didn't enjoy the path he took to get there. I think much of my problem was that I wanted Jess to be a more defiant character earlier in the novel, and I wanted her family problems to influence her character growth but not be central to her story. Both of these may be matters of opinion and an artifact of coming into the book with the wrong assumptions. If you are interested in a flawed and backsliding effort to untangle one's identity from a dysfunctional family and don't mind some barely-SF space mysticism and chosen one vibes, it's possible this book will click with you. It's not one that I can recommend, though. I still want the book that I hoped I was getting from that Big Idea piece. Rating: 4 out of 10

Welcome to our 5th report from the Reproducible Builds project in 2025! Our monthly reports outline what we ve been up to over the past month, and highlight items of news from elsewhere in the increasingly-important area of software supply-chain security. If you are interested in contributing to the Reproducible Builds project, please do visit the Contribute page on our website. In this report:

1. Security audit of Reproducible Builds tools published
2. When good pseudorandom numbers go bad
3. Academic articles
4. Distribution work
5. diffoscope and disorderfs
6. Website updates
7. Reproducibility testing framework
8. Upstream patches

---

Security audit of Reproducible Builds tools published The Open Technology Fund s (OTF) security partner Security Research Labs recently an conducted audit of some specific parts of tools developed by Reproducible Builds. This form of security audit, sometimes called a whitebox audit, is a form testing in which auditors have complete knowledge of the item being tested. They auditors assessed the various codebases for resilience against hacking, with key areas including differential report formats in diffoscope, common client web attacks, command injection, privilege management, hidden modifications in the build process and attack vectors that might enable denials of service. The audit focused on three core Reproducible Builds tools: diffoscope, a Python application that unpacks archives of files and directories and transforms their binary formats into human-readable form in order to compare them; strip-nondeterminism, a Perl program that improves reproducibility by stripping out non-deterministic information such as timestamps or other elements introduced during packaging; and reprotest, a Python application that builds source code multiple times in various environments in order to to test reproducibility. OTF s announcement contains more of an overview of the audit, and the full 24-page report is available in PDF form as well.

When good pseudorandom numbers go bad Danielle Navarro published an interesting and amusing article on their blog on When good pseudorandom numbers go bad. Danielle sets the stage as follows:

[Colleagues] approached me to talk about a reproducibility issue they d been having with some R code. They d been running simulations that rely on generating samples from a multivariate normal distribution, and despite doing the prudent thing and using set.seed() to control the state of the random number generator (RNG), the results were not computationally reproducible. The same code, executed on different machines, would produce different random numbers. The numbers weren t just a little bit different in the way that we ve all wearily learned to expect when you try to force computers to do mathematics. They were painfully, brutally, catastrophically, irreproducible different. Somewhere, somehow, something broke.

Thanks to David Wheeler for posting about this article on our mailing list

Academic articles There were two scholarly articles published this month that related to reproducibility: Daniel Hugenroth and Alastair R. Beresford of the University of Cambridge in the United Kingdom and Mario Lins and Ren Mayrhofer of Johannes Kepler University in Linz, Austria published an article titled Attestable builds: compiling verifiable binaries on untrusted systems using trusted execution environments. In their paper, they:

present attestable builds, a new paradigm to provide strong source-to-binary correspondence in software artifacts. We tackle the challenge of opaque build pipelines that disconnect the trust between source code, which can be understood and audited, and the final binary artifact, which is difficult to inspect. Our system uses modern trusted execution environments (TEEs) and sandboxed build containers to provide strong guarantees that a given artifact was correctly built from a specific source code snapshot. As such it complements existing approaches like reproducible builds which typically require time-intensive modifications to existing build configurations and dependencies, and require independent parties to continuously build and verify artifacts.

The authors compare attestable builds with reproducible builds by noting an attestable build requires only minimal changes to an existing project, and offers nearly instantaneous verification of the correspondence between a given binary and the source code and build pipeline used to construct it , and proceed by determining that t he overhead (42 seconds start-up latency and 14% increase in build duration) is small in comparison to the overall build time.
Timo Pohl, Pavel Nov k, Marc Ohm and Michael Meier have published a paper called Towards Reproducibility for Software Packages in Scripting Language Ecosystems. The authors note that past research into Reproducible Builds has focused primarily on compiled languages and their ecosystems, with a further emphasis on Linux distribution packages:

However, the popular scripting language ecosystems potentially face unique issues given the systematic difference in distributed artifacts. This Systemization of Knowledge (SoK) [paper] provides an overview of existing research, aiming to highlight future directions, as well as chances to transfer existing knowledge from compiled language ecosystems. To that end, we work out key aspects in current research, systematize identified challenges for software reproducibility, and map them between the ecosystems.

Ultimately, the three authors find that the literature is sparse , focusing on few individual problems and ecosystems, and therefore identify space for more critical research.

Distribution work In Debian this month:

• Ian Jackson filed a bug against the debian-policy package in order to delve into an issue affecting Debian s support for cross-architecture compilation, multiple-architecture systems, reproducible builds SOURCE_DATE_EPOCH environment variable and the ability to recompile already-uploaded packages to Debian with a new/updated toolchain (binNMUs). Ian identifies a specific case, specifically in the libopts25-dev package, involving a manual page that had interesting downstream effects, potentially affecting backup systems. The bug generated a large number of replies, some of which have references to similar or overlapping issues, such as this one from 2016/2017.
• Chris Hofstaedtler filed a bug against the metasnap.debian.net service to note that some packages are not available in metasnap API.
• 22 reviews of Debian packages were added, 24 were updated and 11 were removed this month, all adding to our knowledge about identified issues.

Hans-Christoph Steiner of the F-Droid catalogue of open source applications for the Android platform published a blog post on Making reproducible builds visible. Noting that Reproducible builds are essential in order to have trustworthy software , Hans also mentions that F-Droid has been delivering reproducible builds since 2015 . However:

There is now a Reproducibility Status link for each app on f-droid.org, listed on every app s page. Our verification server shows or based on its build results, where means our rebuilder reproduced the same APK file and means it did not. The IzzyOnDroid repository has developed a more elaborate system of badges which displays a for each rebuilder. Additionally, there is a sketch of a five-level graph to represent some aspects about which processes were run.

Hans compares the approach with projects such as Arch Linux and Debian that provide developer-facing tools to give feedback about reproducible builds, but do not display information about reproducible builds in the user-facing interfaces like the package management GUIs.
Arnout Engelen of the NixOS project has been working on reproducing the minimal installation ISO image. This month, Arnout has successfully reproduced the build of the minimal image for the 25.05 release without relying on the binary cache. Work on also reproducing the graphical installer image is ongoing.
In openSUSE news, Bernhard M. Wiedemann posted another monthly update for their work there.
Lastly in Fedora news, Jelle van der Waa opened issues tracking reproducible issues in Haskell documentation, Qt6 recording the host kernel and R packages recording the current date. The R packages can be made reproducible with packaging changes in Fedora.

diffoscope & disorderfs diffoscope is our in-depth and content-aware diff utility that can locate and diagnose reproducibility issues. This month, Chris Lamb made the following changes, including preparing and uploading versions 295, 296 and 297 to Debian:

• Don t rely on zipdetails --walk argument being available, and only add that argument on newer versions after we test for that. [ ]
• Review and merge support for NuGet packages from Omair Majid. [ ]
• Update copyright years. [ ]
• Merge support for an lzma comparator from Will Hollywood. [ ][ ]

Chris also merged an impressive changeset from Siva Mahadevan to make disorderfs more portable, especially on FreeBSD. disorderfs is our FUSE-based filesystem that deliberately introduces non-determinism into directory system calls in order to flush out reproducibility issues [ ]. This was then uploaded to Debian as version 0.6.0-1. Lastly, Vagrant Cascadian updated diffoscope in GNU Guix to version 296 [ ][ ] and 297 [ ][ ], and disorderfs to version 0.6.0 [ ][ ].

Website updates Once again, there were a number of improvements made to our website this month including:

• Chris Lamb:
  • Merged four or five suggestions from Guillem Jover for the GNU Autotools examples on the SOURCE_DATE_EPOCH example page [ ]
  • Incorporated a number of fixes for the JavaScript SOURCE_DATE_EPOCH snippet from Sebastian Davis, which did not handle non-integer values correctly. [ ]
• David A. Wheeler:
  • Fix an apostrophe in the README.md file. [ ]
• Hans-Christoph Steiner:
  • Add the F-Droid Verification Server to the Tools page. [ ]
  • Add the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International as the website s root LICENSE file. [ ]
  • Updated the Recording the build environment page to add a section pertaining to how F-Droid handles this. [ ]
• Jochen Sprickerhof:
  • Add Chris Hofstaedtler to the Who is involved? page. [ ]
• Sebastian Davids:
  • Fix the CoffeeScript example on the SOURCE_DATE_EPOCH page. [ ]
  • Remove the JavaScript example that uses a fixed timezone on the SOURCE_DATE_EPOCH page. [ ]

Reproducibility testing framework The Reproducible Builds project operates a comprehensive testing framework running primarily at tests.reproducible-builds.org in order to check packages and other artifacts for reproducibility. However, Holger Levsen posted to our mailing list this month in order to bring a wider awareness to funding issues faced by the Oregon State University (OSU) Open Source Lab (OSL). As mentioned on OSL s public post, recent changes in university funding makes our current funding model no longer sustainable [and that] unless we secure $250,000 in committed funds, the OSL will shut down later this year . As Holger notes in his post to our mailing list, the Reproducible Builds project relies on hardware nodes hosted there. Nevertheless, Lance Albertson of OSL posted an update to the funding situation later in the month with broadly positive news.
Separate to this, there were various changes to the Jenkins setup this month, which is used as the backend driver of for both tests.reproducible-builds.org and reproduce.debian.net, including:

• Migrating the central jenkins.debian.net server AMD Opteron to Intel Haswell CPUs. Thanks to IONOS for hosting this server since 2012.
• After testing it for almost ten years, the i386 architecture has been dropped from tests.reproducible-builds.org. This is because that, with the upcoming release of Debian trixie, i386 is no longer supported as a regular architecture there will be no official kernel and no Debian installer for i386 systems. As a result, a large number of nodes hosted by Infomaniak have been retooled from i386 to amd64.
• Another node, ionos17-amd64.debian.net, which is used for verifying packages for all.reproduce.debian.net (hosted by IONOS) has had its memory increased from 40 to 64GB, and the number of cores doubled to 32 as well. In addition, two nodes generously hosted by OSUOSL have had their memory doubled to 16GB.
• Lastly, we have been granted access to more riscv64 architecture boards, so now we have seven such nodes, all with 16GB memory and 4 cores that are verifying packages for riscv64.reproduce.debian.net. Many thanks to PLCT Lab, ISCAS for providing those.

Outside of this, a number of smaller changes were also made by Holger Levsen:

• reproduce.debian.net-related:
  • Only use two workers for the ppc64el architecture due to RAM size. [ ]
  • Monitor nginx_request and nginx_status with the Munin monitoring system. [ ][ ]
  • Detect various variants of network and memory errors. [ ][ ][ ][ ]
  • Add a prominent link to reproducible-builds.org. [ ]
  • Add a rebuilderd-cache-cleanup.service and run it daily via timer. [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
  • Be more verbose what sources are being downloaded. [ ]
  • Correctly deal with packages with an epoch in their version [ ] and deal with binNMUs versions with an epoch as well [ ][ ].
  • Document how to reschedule all other errors on all archs. [ ]
  • Misc documentation improvements. [ ][ ][ ][ ]
  • Include the $HOSTNAME variable in the rebuilderd logfiles. [ ]
  • Install the equivs package on all worker nodes. [ ][ ]
• Jenkins nodes:
  • Permit the sudo tool to fix up permission issues. [ ][ ]
  • Document how to manage diskspace with OpenStack. [ ]
  • Ignore a number of spurious monitoring errors on riscv64, FreeBSD, etc.. [ ][ ][ ][ ]
  • Install ntpsec-ntpdate (instead of ntpdate) as the former is available on Debian trixie and bookworm. [ ][ ]
  • Use the same SSH ControlPath for all nodes. [ ]
  • Make sure the munin user uses the same SSH config as the jenkins user. [ ]
• tests.reproducible-builds.org-related:
  • Disable testing of the i386 architecture. [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
  • Document the current disk usage. [ ][ ]
  • Address some image placement now that we only test three architectures. [ ]
  • Keep track of build performance. [ ]
• Misc:
  • Fix a (harmless) typo in the multiarch_versionskew script. [ ]

In addition, Jochen Sprickerhof made a series of changes related to reproduce.debian.net:

• Add out of memory detection to the statistics page. [ ]
• Reverse the sorting order on the statistics page. [ ][ ][ ][ ]
• Improve the spacing between statistics groups. [ ]
• Update a (hard-coded) line number in error message detection pertaining to a debrebuild line number. [ ]
• Support Debian unstable in the rebuilder-debian.sh script. [ ] ]
• Rely on rebuildctl to sync only arch-specific packages. [ ][ ]

Upstream patches The Reproducible Builds project detects, dissects and attempts to fix as many currently-unreproducible packages as possible. This month, we wrote a large number of such patches, including:

• Bernhard M. Wiedemann:
  • cmake/musescore
  • netdiscover
  • autotrace, ck, cmake, crash, cvsps, gexif, gq, gtkam, ibus-table-others, krb5-appl, ktoblzcheck-data, leafnode, lib2geom, libexif-gtk, libyui, linkloop, meson, MozillaFirefox, ncurses, notify-sharp, pcsc-acr38, pcsc-asedriveiiie-serial, pcsc-asedriveiiie-usb, pcsc-asekey, pcsc-eco5000, pcsc-reflex60, perl-Crypt-RC, python-boto3, python-gevent, python-pytest-localserver, qt6-tools, seamonkey, seq24, smictrl, sobby, solfege, urfkill, uwsgi, wsmancli, xine-lib, xkeycaps, xquarto, yast-control-center, yast-ruby-bindings and yast
  • libmfx-gen, libmfx, liboqs
• Chris Hofstaedtler:
  • #1104578 filed against jabber-muc.
• Chris Lamb:
  • #1105171 filed against golang-github-lucas-clemente-quic-go.
• Jelle van der Waa:
  • gitlab-shell
• Jochen Sprickerhof:
  • #1104965 filed against bootp.
• Zhaofeng Li:
  • Add support for --mtime and --clamp-mtime to bsdtar.
• James Addison:
  • #1105119 for python3 requested enabling a LTO-adjacent option that should improve build reproducibility.
  • #1106274 upstream fix merged for freezegun for a timezone issue causing unit tests to fail during testing.
  • Opened a pull request for tutanota in an attempt to resolve a long-standing reproducibility issue.
• Zbigniew J drzejewski-Szmek:
  • 0xFFFF: Use SOURCE_DATE_EPOCH for date in manual pages.

Finally, if you are interested in contributing to the Reproducible Builds project, please visit our Contribute page on our website. However, you can get in touch with us via:

• IRC: #reproducible-builds on irc.oftc.net.
• Mastodon: @reproducible_builds@fosstodon.org
• Mailing list: rb-general@lists.reproducible-builds.org

Review: Beyond Pain, by Kit Rocha

Series:	Beyond #3
Publisher:	Kit Rocha
Copyright:	December 2013
ASIN:	B00GIA4GN8
Format:	Kindle
Pages:	328

Beyond Pain is a science fiction dystopian erotic romance novel and a direct sequel to Beyond Control. Following the romance series convention, each book features new protagonists who were supporting characters in the previous book. You could probably start here if you wanted, but there are significant spoilers here for earlier books in the series. I read this book as part of the Beyond Series Bundle (Books 1-3), which is what the sidebar information is for. Six has had a brutally hard life. She was rescued from an awful situation in a previous book and is now lurking around the edges of the Sector Four gang, oddly fascinated (as are we all) with their constant sexuality and trying to decide if she wants to, and can, be part of their world. Bren is one of the few people she lets get close: a huge bruiser who likes cage fights and pain but treats Six with a protective, careful respect that she finds comforting. This book is the story of Six and Bren getting to the bottom of each other's psychological hangups while the O'Kanes start taking over Six's former sector. Yes, as threatened, I read another entry in the dystopian erotica series because I keep wondering how these people will fuck their way into a revolution. This is not happening very quickly, but it seems obvious that is the direction the series is going. It's been a while since I've reviewed one of these, so here's another variation of the massive disclaimer: I think erotica is harder to review than any other genre because what people like is so intensely personal and individual. This is not even an attempt at an erotica review. I'm both wholly unqualified and also less interested in that part of the book, which should lead you to question my reading choices since that's a good half of the book. Rather, I'm reading these somewhat for the plot and mostly for the vibes. This is not the most competent collection of individuals, and to the extent that they are, it's mostly because the men (who are, as a rule, charismatic but rather dim) are willing to listen to the women. What they are good at is communication, or rather, they're good about banging their heads (and other parts) against communication barriers until they figure out a way around them. Part of this is an obsession with consent that goes quite a bit deeper than the normal simplistic treatment. When you spend this much time trying to understand what other people want, you have to spend a lot of time communicating about sex, and in these books that means spending a lot of time communicating about everything else as well. They are also obsessively loyal and understand the merits of both collective action and in making space for people to do the things that they are the best at, while still insisting that people contribute when they can. On the surface, the O'Kanes are a dictatorship, but they're run more like a high-functioning collaboration. Dallas leads because Dallas is good at playing the role of leader (and listening to Lex), which is refreshingly contrary to how things work in the real world right now. I want to be clear that not only is this erotica, this is not the sort of erotica where there's a stand-alone plot that is periodically interrupted by vaguely-motivated sex scenes that you can skim past. These people use sex to communicate, and therefore most of the important exchanges in the book are in the middle of a sex scene. This is going to make this novel, and this series, very much not to the taste of a lot of people, and I cannot be emphatic enough about that warning. But, also, this is such a fascinating inversion. It's common in media for the surface plot of the story to be full of sexual tension, sometimes to the extent that the story is just a metaphor for the sex that the characters want to have. This is the exact opposite of that: The sex is a metaphor for everything else that's going on in the story. These people quite literally fuck their way out of their communication problems, and not in an obvious or cringy way. It's weirdly fascinating? It's also possible that my reaction to this series is so unusual as to not be shared by a single other reader. Anyway, the setup in this story is that Six has major trust issues and Bren is slowly and carefully trying to win her trust. It's a classic hurt/comfort setup, and if that had played out in the way that this story often does, Bren would have taken the role of the gentle hero and Six the role of the person he rescued. That is not at all where this story goes. Six doesn't need comfort; Six needs self-confidence and the ability to demand what she wants, and although the way Beyond Pain gets her there is a little ham-handed, it mostly worked for me. As with Beyond Shame, I felt like the moral of the story is that the O'Kane men are just bright enough to stop doing stupid things at the last possible moment. I think Beyond Pain worked a bit better than the previous book because Bren is not quite as dim as Dallas, so the reader doesn't have to suffer through quite as many stupid decisions. The erotica continues to mostly (although not entirely) follow traditional gender roles, with dangerous men and women who like attention. Presumably most people are reading these books for the sex, which I am wholly unqualified to review. For whatever it's worth, the physical descriptions are too mechanical for me, too obsessed with the precise structural assemblage of parts in novel configurations. I am not recommending (or disrecommending) these books, for a whole host of reasons. But I think the authors deserve to be rewarded for understanding that sex can be communication and that good communication about difficult topics is inherently interesting in a way that (at least for me) transcends the erotica. I bet I'm going to pick up another one of these about a year from now because I'm still thinking about these people and am still curious about how they are going to succeed. Followed by Beyond Temptation, an interstitial novella. The next novel is Beyond Jealousy. Rating: 6 out of 10

Review: The Sky Road, by Ken MacLeod

Series:	Fall Revolution #4
Publisher:	Tor
Copyright:	1999
Printing:	August 2001
ISBN:	0-8125-7759-0
Format:	Mass market
Pages:	406

The Sky Road is the fourth book in the Fall Revolution series, but it represents an alternate future that diverges after (or during?) the events of The Sky Fraction. You probably want to read that book first, but I'm not sure reading The Stone Canal or The Cassini Division adds anything to this book other than frustration. Much more on that in a moment. Clovis colha Gree is a aspiring doctoral student in history with a summer job as a welder. He works on the platform for the project, which the reader either slowly discovers from the book or quickly discovers from the cover is a rocket to get to orbit. As the story opens, he meets (or, as he describes it) is targeted by a woman named Merrial, a tinker who works on the guidance system. The early chapters provide only a few hints about Clovis's world: a statue of the Deliverer on a horse that forms the backdrop of their meeting, the casual carrying of weapons, hints that tinkers are socially unacceptable, and some division between the white logic and the black logic in programming. Also, because this is a Ken MacLeod novel, everyone is obsessed with smoking and tobacco the way that the protagonists of erotica are obsessed with sex. Clovis's story is one thread of this novel. The other, told in the alternating chapters, is the story of Myra Godwin-Davidova, chair of the governing Council of People's Commissars of the International Scientific and Technical Workers' Republic, a micronation embedded in post-Soviet Kazakhstan. Series readers will remember Myra's former lover, David Reid, as the villain of The Stone Canal and the head of the corporation Mutual Protection, which is using slave labor (sort of) to support a resurgent space movement and its attempt to take control of a balkanized Earth. The ISTWR is in decline and a minor power by all standards except one: They still have nuclear weapons. So, first, we need to talk about the series divergence. I know from reading about this book on-line that The Sky Road is an alternate future that does not follow the events of The Stone Canal and The Cassini Division. I do not know this from the text of the book, which is completely silent about even being part of a series. More annoyingly, while the divergence in the Earth's future compared to The Cassini Division is obvious, I don't know what the Jonbar hinge is. Everything I can find on-line about this book is maddeningly coy. Wikipedia claims the divergence happens at the end of The Sky Fraction. Other reviews and the Wikipedia talk page claim it happens in the middle of The Stone Canal. I do have a guess, but it's an unsatisfying one and I'm not sure how to test its correctness. I suppose I shouldn't care and instead take each of the books on their own terms, but this is the type of thing that my brain obsesses over, and I find it intensely irritating that MacLeod didn't explain it in the books themselves. It's the sort of authorial trick that makes me feel dumb, and books that gratuitously make me feel dumb are less enjoyable to read. The second annoyance I have with this book is also only partly its fault. This series, and this book in particular, is frequently mentioned as good political science fiction that explores different ways of structuring human society. This was true of some of the earlier books in a surprisingly superficial way. Here, I would call it hogwash. This book, or at least the Myra portion of it, is full of people doing politics in a tactical sense, but like the previous books of this series, that politics is mostly embedded in personal grudges and prior romantic relationships. Everyone involved is essentially an authoritarian whose ability to act as they wish is only contested by other authoritarians and is largely unconstrained by such things as persuasion, discussions, elections, or even theory. Myra and most of the people she meets are profoundly cynical and almost contemptuous of any true discussion of political systems. This is the trappings and mechanisms of politics without the intellectual debate or attempt at consensus, turning it into a zero-sum game won by whoever can threaten the others more effectively. Given the glowing reviews I've seen in relatively political SF circles, presumably I am missing something that other people see in MacLeod's approach. Perhaps this level of pettiness and cynicism is an accurate depiction of what it's like inside left-wing political movements. (What an appalling condemnation of left-wing political movements, if so.) But many of the on-line reviews lead me to instead conclude that people's understanding of "political fiction" is stunted and superficial. For example, there is almost nothing Marxist about this book it contains essentially no economic or class analysis whatsoever but MacLeod uses a lot of Marxist terminology and sets half the book in an explicitly communist state, and this seems to be enough for large portions of the on-line commentariat to conclude that it's full of dangerous, radical ideas. I find this sadly hilarious given that MacLeod's societies tend, if anything, towards a low-grade libertarianism that would be at home in a Robert Heinlein novel. Apparently political labels are all that's needed to make political fiction; substance is optional. So much for the politics. What's left in Clovis's sections is a classic science fiction adventure in which the protagonist has a radically different perspective from the reader and the fun lies in figuring out the world-building through the skewed perspective of the characters. This was somewhat enjoyable, but would have been more fun if Clovis had any discernible personality. Sadly he instead seems to be an empty receptacle for the prejudices and perspective of his society, which involve a lot of quasi-religious taboos and an essentially magical view of the world. Merrial is a more interesting character, although as always in this series the romance made absolutely no sense to me and seemed to be conjured by authorial fiat and weirdly instant sexual attraction. Myra's portion of the story was the part I cared more about and was more invested in, aided by the fact that she's attempting to do something more interesting than launch a crewed space vehicle for no obvious reason. She at least faces some true moral challenges with no obviously correct response. It's all a bit depressing, though, and I found Myra's unwillingness to ground her decisions in a more comprehensive moral framework disappointing. If you're going to make a protagonist the ruler of a communist state, even an ironic one, I'd like to hear some real political philosophy, some theory of sociology and economics that she used to justify her decisions. The bits that rise above personal animosity and vibes were, I think, said better in The Cassini Division. This series was disappointing, and I can't say I'm glad to have read it. There is some small pleasure in finishing a set of award-winning genre books so that I can have a meaningful conversation about them, but the awards failed to find me better books to read than I would have found on my own. These aren't bad books, but the amount of enjoyment I got out of them didn't feel worth the frustration. Not recommended, I'm afraid. Rating: 6 out of 10

Review: Driving the Deep, by Suzanne Palmer

Series:	Finder Chronicles #2
Publisher:	DAW
Copyright:	2020
ISBN:	0-7564-1512-8
Format:	Kindle
Pages:	426

Driving the Deep is science fiction, a sequel to Finder (not to be confused with Finders, Emma Bull's Finder, or the many other books and manga with the same title). It stands alone and you could start reading here, although there will be spoilers for the first book of the series. It's Suzanne Palmer's second novel. When Fergus Ferguson was fifteen, he stole his cousin's motorcycle to escape an abusive home, stashed it in a storage locker, and got the hell off of Earth. Nineteen years later, he's still paying for the storage locker and it's still bothering him that he never returned the motorcycle. His friends in the Shipyard orbiting Pluto convince him to go to Earth and resolve this ghost of his past, once and for all. Nothing for Fergus is ever that simple. When the key he's been carrying all these years fails to open the storage unit, he hacks it open, only to find no sign of his cousin's motorcycle. Instead, the unit is full of expensive storage crates containing paintings by artists like Van Gogh. They're obviously stolen. Presumably the paintings also explain the irate retired police officer who knocks him out and tries to arrest him, slightly after the urgent message from the Shipyard AI telling him his friends are under attack. Fergus does not stay arrested, a development that will not surprise readers of the previous book. He does end up with an obsessed and increasingly angry ex-cop named Zacker as an unwanted passenger. Fergus reluctantly cuts a deal with Zacker: assist him in finding out what happened to his friends, and Fergus will then go back to Earth and help track down the art thieves who shot Zacker's daughter. It will be some time before they get back to Earth. Fergus's friends have been abducted by skilled professionals. What faint clues he can track down point to Enceladus, a moon of Saturn with a vast subsurface ocean. One simulation test with a desperate and untrustworthy employer later, Fergus is now a newly-hired pilot of an underwater hauler. The trend in recent SFF genre novels has been towards big feelings and character-centric stories. Sometimes this comes in the form of found family, sometimes as melodrama, and often now as romance. I am in general a fan of this trend, particularly as a corrective to the endless engineer-with-a-wrench stories, wooden protagonists, and cardboard characters that plagued classic science fiction. But sometimes I want to read a twisty and intelligent plot navigated by a competent but understated protagonist and built around nifty science fiction ideas. That is exactly what Driving the Deep is, and I suspect this series is going to become my go-to recommendation for people who "just want a science fiction novel." I don't want to overstate this. Fergus is not a blank slate; he gets the benefit of the dramatic improvement in writing standards and characterization in SFF over the past thirty years. He's still struggling with what happened to him in Finder, and the ending of this book is rather emotional. But the overall plot structure is more like a thriller or a detective novel: there are places to go, people to investigate, bases to infiltrate, and captives to find, so the amount of time spent on emotional processing is necessarily limited. Fergus's emotions and characterization are grace notes around the edges of the plot, not its center. I thoroughly enjoyed this. Palmer has a light but effective touch with characterization and populates the story with interesting and distinguishable characters. The plot has a layered complexity that allows Fergus to keep making forward progress without running out of twists or getting repetitive. The motivations of the villains were not the most original, but they didn't need to be; the fun of the story is figuring out who the villains are and watching Fergus get out of impossible situations with the help of new friends. Finder was a solid first novel, but I thought Driving the Deep was a substantial improvement in both pacing and plot coherence. If I say a novel is standard science fiction, that sounds like criticism of lack of originality, but sometimes standard science fiction is exactly what I want to read. Not every book needs to do something wildly original or upend my understanding of story. I started reading science fiction because I loved tense adventures on moons of Saturn with intelligent spaceships and neat bits of technology, and they're even better with polished writing, quietly competent characterization, and an understated sense of humor. This is great stuff, and there are two more books already published that I'm now looking forward to. Highly recommended when you just want a science fiction novel. Followed by The Scavenger Door. Rating: 8 out of 10

Review: The Last Hour Between Worlds, by Melissa Caruso

Series:	The Echo Archives #1
Publisher:	Orbit
Copyright:	November 2024
ISBN:	0-316-30364-X
Format:	Kindle
Pages:	388

The Last Hour Between Worlds is urban, somewhat political high fantasy with strong fae vibes. It is the first book of a series, but it stands alone quite well. Kembral Thorne is a Hound, a member of the guild that serves as guards, investigators, and protectors. Kembral's specialty is Echo retrieval: rescues of people and animals who have fallen through a weak spot in reality into one of the strange, dangerous, and malleable layers called Echoes. Kem once rescued a dog from six layers down, an almost unheard-of feat. Kem is also a new single mother, which means her past two months have been spent in a sleep-deprived haze revolving exclusively around her much-beloved infant. Dona Marjorie Swift's year-turning party is the first time she's been out without Emmi since she gave birth, and she's only there because her sister took the child and practically shoved her out the door. Now, she's desperately trying to remember how to be social and normal, which is not made easier by the unexpected presence of Rika at the party. Rika Nonesuch is not a Hound. She's a Cat, a member of the guild of thieves and occasional assassins. They are the nemesis of the Hounds, but in a stylized and formalized way in which certain courtesies are expected. (The politics of this don't really make sense; you just have to go with it.) Kem has complicated feelings about Rika's grace, banter, and intoxicating perfume, feelings that she thought might be reciprocated until Rika drugged her during an apparent date and left her buried under a pile of garbage. She was not expecting Rika to be at this party and is definitely not ready to have a conversation with her. This emotional turmoil is rudely interrupted by the death of nearly everyone at the party via an Echo poison, the appearance of a dark figure driving a black sword into someone, and the descent of the entire party into an Echo. This was one of those books that kept getting better the farther into the book I read. I was a bit leery at first because the publisher's blurb made it sound more like horror than I prefer, but this is more the disturbing strangeness of fae creatures than the sort of gruesomeness, disgust, or body horror that I find off-putting. Most importantly, the point of this book is not to torture the characters or scare the reader. It's instead structured a bit like a murder mystery, but one whose resolution requires working out obscure fantasy rules and hidden political agendas. One of the currencies in the world of Echos is blood, but another is emotion, revelation, and the stories that bring both, and Caruso focuses the story more on that aspect than on horrifying imagery.

Rika frowned. "Resolve it? How?" "I have no idea." I couldn't keep my frustration from leaking through. "Might be that we have to delve deep into our own hearts to confront the unhealed wounds we've carried with us in secret. Might be that we have to say their names backward, or just close our eyes and they'll go away. Echoes never make any damned sense." Rika made a face. "We'd better not have to confront our unhealed wounds, or I'm leaving you to die."

All of The Last Hour Between Worlds is told in the first person from Kem's perspective, but Rika is the best character in this book. Kem is a rather straightforward, dogged, stubborn protector; Rika is complicated, selfish, conflicted, and considerably more dynamic. The first obvious twist in her background I spotted so long before Kem found out that it was a bit frustrating, but there were multiple satisfying twists after that. As advertised in the blurb, there's a sapphic romance angle here, but it's the sort that comes from a complicated friendship and a lot of mutual respect rather than love at first sight. Some of their relationship conflict is driven by misunderstanding, but the misunderstanding happens before the novel begins, which means the reader doesn't have to sit through the bit where one yells at the characters for being stupid. It helps that the characters have something concrete to do, and that driving plot problem is multi-layered and satisfying. Each time the party falls through a layer of reality, it's mostly reset to the start of the book, but the word "mostly" is hiding a lot of subtlety. Given the clock at the start of each chapter and the blurb (if one read it), the reader can make a good guess that the plot problem will not be fully resolved until the characters fall quite deep into the Echoes, but the story never felt repetitive the way that some time loop stories can. As the characters gain more understanding, the problems change, the players change, and they have to make several excursions into the surrounding world. This is the sort of fantasy that feels a bit like science fiction. You're thrown into a world with a different culture and different rules that are foreign to the reader and natural to the characters. Part of the fun of reading is figuring out the rules, history, and backstory while watching the characters try to solve the puzzles they're faced with. The writing is good but not great. Characterization was good enough for a story primarily focused on action and puzzle-solving, but it was a bit lacking in subtlety. I think Caruso's strengths showed most in the world design, particularly the magic system and the rules followed by the Echo creatures. The excursions outside of the somewhat-protected house struck a balance between eeriness and comprehensibility that reminded me of T. Kingfisher or Sandman. The human politics were unfortunately less successful and rested on some tired centrist cliches. Thankfully, this was not the main point of the story. I should also warn that there is a lot of talk about babies. Kem's entire identity at the start of the novel, to the point of incessant monologue, is "new mother." This is not a perspective we get very often in fantasy, and Kem eventually finds a steadier balance between her bond with her daughter and the other parts of her life. I think some readers will feel very seen. But Caruso leans hard into maternal bonding. So hard. If you don't want to read about someone who is deliriously obsessed with their new child, you may want to skip this one. Right after I finished this book, I thought it was amazing. Now that I've had a few days to think about it, the lack of subtlety and the facile human politics brought it down a notch. I'm a science fiction reader at heart, so I loved the slow revelation of mechanics; the reader starts the story by knowing that Kem can "blink step" but not knowing what that means, and by the end of the story one not only knows but has opinions about its limitations, political implications, and interactions with other forms of magic. The Echo worlds are treated similarly, and this type of world-building is my jam. But the cost is that the human characters, particularly the supporting cast, don't get the same focus and therefore are a bit straightforward and obvious. The subplot with Dona Vandelle was particularly annoying. Ah well. Kem and Rika's relationship did work, and it's the center of the book. If you like fantasy mechanics but are a bit leery of fae stories because they feel too symbolic or arbitrary, give this a try. It's the most satisfyingly constructed fae story that I've read in a long time. It's not great literary fiction, but it's also not trying to be; it's a puzzle adventure, and a well-executed one. Recommended, and I will definitely be reading the sequel. Content notes: Lots of violent death and other physical damage, creepy dream worlds with implied but not explicit horror, and rather a lot of blood. Followed by The Last Soul Among Wolves, not yet published at the time I wrote this review. Rating: 8 out of 10

The Reproducible Builds community sadly announces it has lost its founding member. J r my Bobbio aka Lunar passed away on Friday November 8th in palliative care in Rennes, France. Lunar was instrumental in starting the Reproducible Builds project in 2013 as a loose initiative within the Debian project. Many of our earliest status reports were written by him and many of our key tools in use today are based on his design. Lunar was a resolute opponent of surveillance and censorship, and he possessed an unwavering energy that fueled his work on Reproducible Builds and Tor. Without Lunar s far-sightedness, drive and commitment to enabling teams around him, Reproducible Builds and free software security would not be in the position it is in today. His contributions will not be forgotten, and his high standards and drive will continue to serve as an inspiration to us as well as for the other high-impact projects he was involved in. Lunar s creativity, insight and kindness were often noted. He will be greatly missed.

Other tributes:

• Anargeek.net [FR]
• LWN
• Debian
• Stefano Zacchiroli
• Linuxfr.org [FR]
• Software Heritage
• A history of the Reproducible Builds project

Review: These Burning Stars, by Bethany Jacobs

Series:	Kindom Trilogy #1
Publisher:	Orbit
Copyright:	October 2023
ISBN:	0-316-46342-6
Format:	Kindle
Pages:	430

These Burning Stars is a science fiction thriller with cyberpunk vibes. It is Bethany Jacobs's first novel and the first of an expected trilogy, and won the 2024 Philip K. Dick Award for the best SF paperback original published in the US. Generation starships brought humanity to the three star systems of the Treble, where they've built a new and thriving culture of billions. The Treble is ruled by the Kindom, a tripartite government structure built around the worship of six gods and the aristocratic power of the First Families. The Clerisy handle religion, the Secretaries run the bureaucracy, and the Cloaksaan enforce the decisions of the other branches. The Nightfoots are one of the First Families. They control sevite, the propellant required to move between the systems of the Treble now that the moon Jeve and the sole source of natural jevite has been destroyed. Esek Nightfoot is a cleric, theoretically following the rules of the Clerisy, but she has made a career of training cloaksaan. She is is mercurial, powerful, ruthless, ambitious, politically well-connected, and greatly feared. She is also obsessed with a person named Six: an orphan she first encountered at a training school who was too young to have a gender or a name but who was already one of the best fighters in the school. In the sort of manipulative challenge typical of Esek, she dangled the offer of a place as a student and challenged the child to learn enough to do something impressive. The subsequent twenty years of elusive taunts and mysterious gifts from the impossible-to-locate Six have driven Esek wild. Cleric Chono was beside Esek for much of that time. One of Six's classmates and another of Esek's rescues, Chono is the rare student who became a cleric rather than a cloaksaan. She is pious, cautious, and careful, the opposite of Esek's mercurial rage, but it's impossible to spend that much time around the woman and not be affected and manipulated by her. As this story opens, Chono is summoned by the First Cleric to join Esek on an assignment: recover a data coin that was stolen from a pirate raid on the Nightfoot compound. He refuses to tell them what data is on it, only saying that he believes it could be used to undermine public trust in the Nightfoot family. Jun is a hacker with considerably fewer connections to power or government and no desire to meet any of these people. She and her partner Liis make a dubiously legal living from smaller, quieter jobs. Buying a collection of stolen data coins for an archivist consortium is riskier than she prefers, but she's been tracking down rumors of this coin for months. The deal is worth a lot of money, enough to make a huge difference for her family. This is the second book I've read recently with strong cyberpunk vibes, although These Burning Stars mixes them with political thriller. This is a messy world with complicated political and religious systems, a lot of contentious history, and vast inequality. The story is told in two interleaved time sequences: the present-day fight over the data coin and the information that it contains, and a sequence of flashbacks telling the history of Esek's relationship with Six and Chono. Jun's story is the most cyberpunk and the one I found the most enjoyable to read, but Chono is a good viewpoint character for Esek's vicious energy and abusive charisma. Six is not a viewpoint character. For most of the book, they're present mostly in shadows, glimpses, and consequences, but they're the strongest character of the book. Both Esek and Six are larger than life, creatures of legend stuffed into mundane politics but too full of strong emotions, both good and bad, to play by any of the rules. Esek has the power base and access to the levers of government, but Six's quiet competence and mercilessly targeted morality may make them the more dangerous of the pair. I found the twisty political thriller part of this book engrossing and very difficult to put down, but it was also a bit too much drama for me in places. Jacobs has some surprises in store, one of which I did not expect at all, and they're set up beautifully and well-done within the story, but Esek and Six become an emotional star that the other characters orbit around and are in danger of getting pulled into. Chono is an accomplished and powerful character in her own right, but she's also an abuse victim, and while those parts are realistic, I didn't entirely enjoy reading them. There is quiet competence here alongside the drama, but I think I wanted the balance of emotion to tip a bit more towards the competence. There is one thing that Jacobs does with the end of the book that greatly impressed me. Unfortunately I can't even hint at it for fear of spoilers, but the ending is unsettling in a way that I found surprising and thought-provoking. I think what I can say is that this book respects the intelligence and skill of secondary characters in a way that I think is rare in a story with such overwhelming protagonists. I'm still thinking about that, and it's going to pull me right into the sequel. This is not going to be to everyone's taste. Esek is a viewpoint character and she can be very nasty. There's a lot of violence and abuse, including one rather graphic fight scene that I thought dragged on much longer than it needed to. But it's a satisfying, complex story with a true variety of characters and some real surprises. I'm glad I read it. Followed by On Vicious Worlds, not yet published as I write this. Content warnings: emotional and physical abuse, graphic violence, off-screen rape and sexual abuse of minors. Rating: 7 out of 10

Review: Raising Steam, by Terry Pratchett

Series:	Discworld #40
Publisher:	Anchor Books
Copyright:	2013
Printing:	October 2014
ISBN:	0-8041-6920-9
Format:	Trade paperback
Pages:	365

Raising Steam is the 40th Discworld novel and the third Moist von Lipwig novel, following Making Money. This is not a good place to start reading the series. Dick Simnel is a tinkerer from a line of tinkerers. He has been obsessed with mastering the power of steam since the age of ten, when his father died in a steam accident. That pursuit took him deeper into mathematics and precision, calculations and experiments, until he built Iron Girder: Discworld's first steam-powered locomotive. His early funding came from some convenient family pirate treasure, but turning his prototype into something more will require significantly more resources. That is how he ends up in the office of Harry King, Ankh-Morpork's sanitation magnate. Simnel's steam locomotive has the potential to solve some obvious logistical problems, such as getting fish from the docks of Quirm to the streets of Ankh-Morpork before it stops being vaguely edible. That's not what makes railways catch fire, however. As soon as Iron Girder is huffing and puffing its way around King's compound, it becomes the most popular attraction in the city. People stand in line for hours to ride it over and over again for reasons that they cannot entirely explain. There is something wild and uncontrollable going on. Vetinari is not sure he likes wild and uncontrollable, but he knows the lap into which such problems can be dumped: Moist von Lipwig, who is already getting bored with being a figurehead for the city's banking system. The setup for Raising Steam reminds me more of Moving Pictures than the other Moist von Lipwig novels. Simnel himself is a relentlessly practical engineer, but the trains themselves have tapped some sort of primal magic. Unlike Moving Pictures, Pratchett doesn't provide an explicit fantasy explanation involving intruding powers from another world. It might have been a more interesting book if he had. Instead, this book expects the reader to believe there is something inherently appealing and fascinating about trains, without providing much logic or underlying justification. I think some readers will be willing to go along with this, and others (myself included) will be left wishing the story had more world-building and fewer exclamation points. That's not the real problem with this book, though. Sadly, its true downfall is that Pratchett's writing ability had almost completely collapsed by the time he wrote it. As mentioned in my review of Snuff, we're now well into the period where Pratchett was suffering the effects of early-onset Alzheimer's. In that book, his health issues mostly affected the dialogue near the end of the novel. In this book, published two years later, it's pervasive and much worse. Here's a typical passage from early in the book:

It is said that a soft answer turneth away wrath, but this assertion has a lot to do with hope and was now turning out to be patently inaccurate, since even a well-spoken and thoughtful soft answer could actually drive the wrong kind of person into a state of fury if wrath was what they had in mind, and that was the state the elderly dwarf was now enjoying.

One of the best things about Discworld is Pratchett's ability to drop unexpected bits of wisdom in a sentence or two, or twist a verbal knife in an unexpected and surprising direction. Raising Steam still shows flashes of that ability, but it's buried in run-on sentences, drowned in cliches and repetition, and often left behind as the containing sentence meanders off into the weeds and sputters to a confused halt. The idea is still there; the delivery, sadly, is not. This is the first Discworld novel that I found mentally taxing to read. Sentences are often so overpacked that they require real effort to untangle, and the untangled meaning rarely feels worth the effort. The individual voice of the characters is almost gone. Vetinari's monologues, rather than being a rare event with dangerous layers, are frequent, rambling, and indecisive, often sounding like an entirely different character than the Vetinari we know. The constant repetition of the name any given character is speaking to was impossible for me to ignore. And the momentum of the story feels wrong; rather than constructing the events of the story in a way that sweeps the reader along, it felt like Pratchett was constantly pushing, trying to convince the reader that trains were the most exciting thing to ever happen to Discworld. The bones of a good story are here, including further development of dwarf politics from The Fifth Elephant and Thud! and the further fallout of the events of Snuff. There are also glimmers of Pratchett's typically sharp observations and turns of phrase that could have been unearthed and polished. But at the very least this book needed way more editing and a lot of rewriting. I suspect it could have dropped thirty pages just by tightening the dialogue and removing some of the repetition. I'm afraid I did not enjoy this. I am a bit of a hard sell for the magic fascination of trains I love trains, but my model railroad days are behind me and I'm now more interested in them as part of urban transportation policy. Previous Discworld books on technology and social systems did more of the work of drawing the reader in, providing character hooks and additional complexity, and building a firmer foundation than "trains are awesome." The main problem, though, was the quality of the writing, particularly when compared to the previous novels with the same characters. I dragged myself through this book out of a sense of completionism and obligation, and was relieved when I finished it. This is the first Discworld novel that I don't recommend. I think the only reason to read it is if you want to have read all of Discworld. Otherwise, consider stopping with Snuff and letting it be the send-off for the Ankh-Morpork characters. Followed by The Shepherd's Crown, a Tiffany Aching story and the last Discworld novel. Rating: 3 out of 10

Review: Welcome to Boy.Net, by Lyda Morehouse

Series:	Earth's Shadow #1
Publisher:	Wizard's Tower Press
Copyright:	April 2024
ISBN:	1-913892-71-9
Format:	Kindle
Pages:	355

Welcome to Boy.Net is a science fiction novel with cyberpunk vibes, the first of a possible series. Earth is a largely abandoned wasteland. Humanity has survived in the rest of the solar system and spread from Earth's moon to the outer planets. Mars is the power in the inner system, obsessed with all things Earth and effectively run by the Earth Nations' Peacekeeping Force, the ENForcers. An ENForcer soldier is raised in a creche from an early age, implanted with cybernetic wetware and nanite enhancements, and extensively trained to be an elite fighting unit. As befits a proper military, every ENForcer is, of course, male. The ENForcers thought Lucia Del Toro was a good, obedient soldier. They also thought she was a man. They were wrong about those and many other things. After her role in an atrocity that named her the Scourge of New Shanghai, she went AWOL and stole her command ship. Now she and her partner/girlfriend Hawk, a computer hacker from Luna, make a living with bounty hunting jobs in the outer system. The ENForcers rarely cross the asteroid belt; the United Miners see to that. The appearance of an F-class ENForcer battle cruiser in Jupiter orbit is a very unpleasant surprise. Lucia and Hawk hope it has nothing to do with them. That hope is dashed when ENForcers turn up in the middle of their next job: a bounty to retrieve an AI eye. I first found Lyda Morehouse via her AngeLINK cyberpunk series, the last of which was published in 2011. Since then, she's been writing paranormal romance and urban fantasy as Tate Hallaway. This return to science fiction is an adventure with trickster hackers, throwback anime-based cowboy bars, tense confrontations with fascist thugs, and unexpected mutual aid, but its core is a cyberpunk look at the people who are unwilling or unable to follow the rules of social conformity. Gender conformity, specifically. Once you understand what this book is about, Welcome to Boy.Net is a great title, but I'm not sure it serves its purpose as a marketing tool. This is not the book that I would have expected from that title in isolation, and I'm a bit worried that people who would like it might pass it by. Inside the story, Boy.Net is the slang term for the cybernetic network that links all ENForcers. If this were the derogatory term used by people outside the ENForcers, I could see it, but it's what the ENForcers themselves call it. That left me with a few suspension of disbelief problems, since the sort of macho assholes who are this obsessed with male gender conformance usually consider "boys" to be derogatory and wouldn't call their military cybernetic network something that sounds that belittling, even as a joke. It would be named after some sort of Orwellian reference to freedom, or something related to violence, dominance, brutality, or some other "traditional male" virtue. But although this term didn't work for me as world-building, it's a beautiful touch thematically. What Morehouse is doing here is the sort of concretized metaphor that science fiction is so good at: an element of world-building that is both an analogy for something the reader is familiar with and is also a concrete piece of world background that follows believable rules and can be manipulated by the characters. Boy.Net is trying to reconnect to Lucia against her will. If it succeeds, it will treat the body modifications she's made as damage and try to reverse all of them, attempting to convert her back to the model of an ENForcer. But it is also a sharp metaphor for how gender roles are enforced in our world: a child assigned male is connected to a pervasive network of gender expectations and is programmed, shaped, and monitored to match the social role of a boy. Even if they reject those expectations, the gender role keeps trying to reconnect and convert them back. I really enjoyed Morehouse's handling of the gender dynamics. It's an important part of the plot, but it's not the only thing going on or the only thing the characters think about. Lucia is occasionally caught by surprise by well-described gender euphoria, but mostly gender is something other people keep trying to impose on her because they're obsessed with forcing social conformity. The rest of the book is a fun romp with a few memorable characters and a couple of great moments with unexpected allies. Hawk and Lucia have an imperfect but low drama relationship that features a great combination of insight and the occasional misunderstanding. It's the kind of believable human relationship that I don't see very much in science fiction, written with the comfortable assurance of an author with over a dozen books under her belt. Some of the supporting characters are also excellent, including a non-binary deaf hacker that I wish had been a bit more central to the story. This is not the greatest science fiction novel I've read, but it was entertaining throughout and kept me turning the pages. Recommended if you want some solar-system cyberpunk in your life. Welcome to Boy.Net reaches a conclusion of sorts, but there's an obvious hook for a sequel and a lot of room left for more stories. I hope enough people buy this book so that I can read it. Rating: 7 out of 10

Review: The Fund, by Rob Copeland

Publisher:	St. Martin's Press
Copyright:	2023
ISBN:	1-250-27694-2
Format:	Kindle
Pages:	310

I first became aware of Ray Dalio when either he or his publisher plastered advertisements for The Principles all over the San Francisco 4th and King Caltrain station. If I recall correctly, there were also constant radio commercials; it was a whole thing in 2017. My brain is very good at tuning out advertisements, so my only thought at the time was "some business guy wrote a self-help book." I think I vaguely assumed he was a CEO of some traditional business, since that's usually who writes heavily marketed books like this. I did not connect him with hedge funds or Bridgewater, which I have a bad habit of confusing with Blackwater. The Principles turns out to be more of a laundered cult manual than a self-help book. And therein lies a story. Rob Copeland is currently with The New York Times, but for many years he was the hedge fund reporter for The Wall Street Journal. He covered, among other things, Bridgewater Associates, the enormous hedge fund founded by Ray Dalio. The Fund is a biography of Ray Dalio and a history of Bridgewater from its founding as a vehicle for Dalio's advising business until 2022 when Dalio, after multiple false starts and title shuffles, finally retired from running the company. (Maybe. Based on the history recounted here, it wouldn't surprise me if he was back at the helm by the time you read this.) It is one of the wildest, creepiest, and most abusive business histories that I have ever read. It's probably worth mentioning, as Copeland does explicitly, that Ray Dalio and Bridgewater hate this book and claim it's a pack of lies. Copeland includes some of their denials (and many non-denials that sound as good as confirmations to me) in footnotes that I found increasingly amusing.

A lawyer for Dalio said he "treated all employees equally, giving people at all levels the same respect and extending them the same perks."

Uh-huh. Anyway, I personally know nothing about Bridgewater other than what I learned here and the occasional mention in Matt Levine's newsletter (which is where I got the recommendation for this book). I have no independent information whether anything Copeland describes here is true, but Copeland provides the typical extensive list of notes and sourcing one expects in a book like this, and Levine's comments indicated it's generally consistent with Bridgewater's industry reputation. I think this book is true, but since the clear implication is that the world's largest hedge fund was primarily a deranged cult whose employees mostly spied on and rated each other rather than doing any real investment work, I also have questions, not all of which Copeland answers to my satisfaction. But more on that later. The center of this book are the Principles. These were an ever-changing list of rules and maxims for how people should conduct themselves within Bridgewater. Per Copeland, although Dalio later published a book by that name, the version of the Principles that made it into the book was sanitized and significantly edited down from the version used inside the company. Dalio was constantly adding new ones and sometimes changing them, but the common theme was radical, confrontational "honesty": never being silent about problems, confronting people directly about anything that they did wrong, and telling people all of their faults so that they could "know themselves better." If this sounds like textbook abusive behavior, you have the right idea. This part Dalio admits to openly, describing Bridgewater as a firm that isn't for everyone but that achieves great results because of this culture. But the uncomfortably confrontational vibes are only the tip of the iceberg of dysfunction. Here are just a few of the ways this played out according to Copeland:

• Dalio decided that everyone's opinions should be weighted by the accuracy of their previous decisions, to create a "meritocracy," and therefore hired people to build a social credit system in which people could use an app to constantly rate all of their co-workers. This almost immediately devolved into out-group bullying worthy of a high school, with employees hurriedly down-rating and ostracizing any co-worker that Dalio down-rated.
• When an early version of the system uncovered two employees at Bridgewater with more credibility than Dalio, Dalio had the system rigged to ensure that he always had the highest ratings and was not affected by other people's ratings.
• Dalio became so obsessed with the principle of confronting problems that he created a centralized log of problems at Bridgewater and required employees find and report a quota of ten or twenty new issues every week or have their bonus docked. He would then regularly pick some issue out of the issue log, no matter how petty, and treat it like a referendum on the worth of the person responsible for the issue.
• Dalio's favorite way of dealing with a problem was to put someone on trial. This involved extensive investigations followed by a meeting where Dalio would berate the person and harshly catalog their flaws, often reducing them to tears or panic attacks, while smugly insisting that having an emotional reaction to criticism was a personality flaw. These meetings were then filmed and added to a library available to all Bridgewater employees, often edited to remove Dalio's personal abuse and to make the emotional reaction of the target look disproportionate. The ones Dalio liked the best were shown to all new employees as part of their training in the Principles.
• One of the best ways to gain institutional power in Bridgewater was to become sycophantically obsessed with the Principles and to be an eager participant in Dalio's trials. The highest levels of Bridgewater featured constant jockeying for power, often by trying to catch rivals in violations of the Principles so that they would be put on trial.

In one of the common and all-too-disturbing connections between Wall Street finance and the United States' dysfunctional government, James Comey (yes, that James Comey) ran internal security for Bridgewater for three years, meaning that he was the one who pulled evidence from surveillance cameras for Dalio to use to confront employees during his trials. In case the cult vibes weren't strong enough already, Bridgewater developed its own idiosyncratic language worthy of Scientology. The trials were called "probings," firing someone was called "sorting" them, and rating them was called "dotting," among many other Bridgewater-specific terms. Needless to say, no one ever probed Dalio himself. You will also be completely unsurprised to learn that Copeland documents instances of sexual harassment and discrimination at Bridgewater, including some by Dalio himself, although that seems to be a relatively small part of the overall dysfunction. Dalio was happy to publicly humiliate anyone regardless of gender. If you're like me, at this point you're probably wondering how Bridgewater continued operating for so long in this environment. (Per Copeland, since Dalio's retirement in 2022, Bridgewater has drastically reduced the cult-like behaviors, deleted its archive of probings, and de-emphasized the Principles.) It was not actually a religious cult; it was a hedge fund that has to provide investment services to huge, sophisticated clients, and by all accounts it's a very successful one. Why did this bizarre nightmare of a workplace not interfere with Bridgewater's business? This, I think, is the weakest part of this book. Copeland makes a few gestures at answering this question, but none of them are very satisfying. First, it's clear from Copeland's account that almost none of the employees of Bridgewater had any control over Bridgewater's investments. Nearly everyone was working on other parts of the business (sales, investor relations) or on cult-related obsessions. Investment decisions (largely incorporated into algorithms) were made by a tiny core of people and often by Dalio himself. Bridgewater also appears to not trade frequently, unlike some other hedge funds, meaning that they probably stay clear of the more labor-intensive high-frequency parts of the business. Second, Bridgewater took off as a hedge fund just before the hedge fund boom in the 1990s. It transformed from Dalio's personal consulting business and investment newsletter to a hedge fund in 1990 (with an earlier investment from the World Bank in 1987), and the 1990s were a very good decade for hedge funds. Bridgewater, in part due to Dalio's connections and effective marketing via his newsletter, became one of the largest hedge funds in the world, which gave it a sort of institutional momentum. No one was questioned for putting money into Bridgewater even in years when it did poorly compared to its rivals. Third, Dalio used the tried and true method of getting free publicity from the financial press: constantly predict an upcoming downturn, and aggressively take credit whenever you were right. From nearly the start of his career, Dalio predicted economic downturns year after year. Bridgewater did very well in the 2000 to 2003 downturn, and again during the 2008 financial crisis. Dalio aggressively takes credit for predicting both of those downturns and positioning Bridgewater correctly going into them. This is correct; what he avoids mentioning is that he also predicted downturns in every other year, the majority of which never happened. These points together create a bit of an answer, but they don't feel like the whole picture and Copeland doesn't connect the pieces. It seems possible that Dalio may simply be good at investing; he reads obsessively and clearly enjoys thinking about markets, and being an abusive cult leader doesn't take up all of his time. It's also true that to some extent hedge funds are semi-free money machines, in that once you have a sufficient quantity of money and political connections you gain access to investment opportunities and mechanisms that are very likely to make money and that the typical investor simply cannot access. Dalio is clearly good at making personal connections, and invested a lot of effort into forming close ties with tricky clients such as pools of Chinese money. Perhaps the most compelling explanation isn't mentioned directly in this book but instead comes from Matt Levine. Bridgewater touts its algorithmic trading over humans making individual trades, and there is some reason to believe that consistently applying an algorithm without regard to human emotion is a solid trading strategy in at least some investment areas. Levine has asked in his newsletter, tongue firmly in cheek, whether the bizarre cult-like behavior and constant infighting is a strategy to distract all the humans and keep them from messing with the algorithm and thus making bad decisions. Copeland leaves this question unsettled. Instead, one comes away from this book with a clear vision of the most dysfunctional workplace I have ever heard of, and an endless litany of bizarre events each more astonishing than the last. If you like watching train wrecks, this is the book for you. The only drawback is that, unlike other entries in this genre such as Bad Blood or Billion Dollar Loser, Bridgewater is a wildly successful company, so you don't get the schadenfreude of seeing a house of cards collapse. You do, however, get a helpful mental model to apply to the next person who tries to talk to you about "radical honesty" and "idea meritocracy." The flaw in this book is that the existence of an organization like Bridgewater is pointing to systematic flaws in how our society works, which Copeland is largely uninterested in interrogating. "How could this have happened?" is a rather large question to leave unanswered. The sheer outrageousness of Dalio's behavior also gets a bit tiring by the end of the book, when you've seen the patterns and are hearing about the fourth variation. But this is still an astonishing book, and a worthy entry in the genre of capitalism disasters. Rating: 7 out of 10

Review: Bookshops & Bonedust, by Travis Baldree

Series:	Legends & Lattes #2
Publisher:	Tor
Copyright:	2023
ISBN:	1-250-88611-2
Format:	Kindle
Pages:	337

Bookshops & Bonedust is a prequel to the cozy fantasy Legends & Lattes. You can read them in either order, although the epilogue of Bookshops & Bonedust spoils (somewhat guessable) plot developments in Legends & Lattes. Viv is a new member of the mercenary troop Rackam's Ravens and is still possessed of more enthusiasm than sense. As the story opens, she charges well ahead of her allies and nearly gets killed by a pike through the leg. She survives, but her leg needs time to heal and she is not up to the further pursuit of a necromancer. Rackam pays for a room and a doctor in the small seaside town of Murk and leaves her there to recuperate. The Ravens will pick her up when they come back through town, whenever that is. Viv is very quickly bored out of her skull. On a whim, and after some failures to find something else to occupy her, she tries a run-down local bookstore and promptly puts her foot through the boardwalk outside it. That's the start of an improbable friendship with the proprietor, a rattkin named Fern with a knack for book recommendations and a serious cash flow problem. Viv, being Viv, soon decides to make herself useful. The good side and bad side of this book are the same: it's essentially the same book as Legends & Lattes, but this time with a bookstore. There's a medieval sword and sorcery setting, a wide variety of humanoid species, a local business that needs love and attention (this time because it's failing instead of new), a lurking villain, an improbable store animal (this time a gryphlet that I found less interesting than the cat of the coffee shop), and a whole lot of found family. It turns out I was happy to read that story again, and there were some things I liked better in this version. I find bookstores more interesting than coffee shops, and although Viv and Fern go through a similar process of copying features of a modern bookstore, this felt less strained than watching Viv reinvent the precise equipment and menu of a modern coffee shop in a fantasy world. Also, Fern is an absolute delight, probably my favorite character in either of the books. I love the way that she uses book recommendations as a way of asking questions and guessing at answers about other people. As with the first book, Baldree's world-building is utterly unconcerned with trying to follow the faux-medieval conventions of either sword and sorcery or D&D-style role-playing games. On one hand, I like this; most of that so-called medievalism is nonsense anyway, and there's no reason why fantasy with D&D-style species diversity should be set in a medieval world. On the other hand, this world seems exactly like a US small town except the tavern also has rooms for rent, there are roving magical armies, and everyone fights with swords for some reason. It feels weirdly anachronistic, and I can't tell if that's because I've been brainwashed into thinking fantasy has to be medievaloid or if it's a true criticism of the book. I was reminded somewhat of reading Jack McDevitt's SF novels, which are supposedly set in the far future but are indistinguishable from 1980s suburbia except with flying cars. The other oddity with this book is that the reader of the series knows Viv isn't going to stay. This is the problem with writing a second iteration of this story as a prequel. I see why Baldree did it the story wouldn't have worked if Viv were already established but it casts a bit of a pall over the cheeriness of the story. Baldree to his credit confronts this directly, weaves it into the relationships, and salvages it a bit more in the epilogue, but it gave the story a sort of preemptive wistfulness that was at odds with how I wanted to read it. But, despite that, the strength of this book are the characters. Viv is a good person who helps where she can, which sounds like a simple thing but is so restful to read about. This book features her first meeting with the gnome Gallina, who is always a delight. There are delicious baked goods from a dwarf, a grumpy doctor, a grumpier city guard, and a whole cast of people who felt complicated and normal and essentially decent. I'm not sure the fantasy elements do anything for this book, or this series, other than marketing and the convenience of a few plot devices. Even though one character literally disappears into a satchel, it felt like Baldree could have written roughly the same story as a contemporary novel without a hint of genre. But that's not really a complaint, since the marketing works. I would not have read this series if it had been contemporary novels, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. It's a slice of life novel about kind and decent people for readers who are bored by contemporary settings and would rather read fantasy. Works for me. I'm hoping Baldree finds other stories, since I'm not sure I want to read this one several more times, but twice was not too much. If you liked Legends & Lattes and are thinking "how can I get more of that," here's the book for you. If you haven't read Legends & Lattes, I think I would recommend reading this one first. It does many of the same things, it's a bit more polished, and then you can read Viv's adventures in internal chronological order. Rating: 8 out of 10

Review: The Box, by Marc Levinson

Publisher:	Princeton University Press
Copyright:	2006, 2008
Printing:	2008
ISBN:	0-691-13640-8
Format:	Trade paperback
Pages:	278

The shipping container as we know it is only about 65 years old. Shipping things in containers is obviously much older; we've been doing that for longer than we've had ships. But the standardized metal box, set on a rail car or loaded with hundreds of its indistinguishable siblings into an enormous, specially-designed cargo ship, became economically significant only recently. Today it is one of the oft-overlooked foundations of global supply chains. The startlingly low cost of container shipping is part of why so much of what US consumers buy comes from Asia, and why most complex machinery is assembled in multiple countries from parts gathered from a dizzying variety of sources. Marc Levinson's The Box is a history of container shipping, from its (arguable) beginnings in the trailer bodies loaded on Pan-Atlantic Steamship Corporation's Ideal-X in 1956 to just-in-time international supply chains in the 2000s. It's a popular history that falls on the academic side, with a full index and 60 pages of citations and other notes. (Per my normal convention, those pages aren't included in the sidebar page count.) The Box is organized mostly chronologically, but Levinson takes extended detours into labor relations and container standardization at the appropriate points in the timeline. The book is very US-centric. Asian, European, and Australian shipping is discussed mostly in relation to trade with the US, and Africa is barely mentioned. I don't have the background to know whether this is historically correct for container shipping or is an artifact of Levinson's focus. Many single-item popular histories focus on something that involves obvious technological innovation (paint pigments) or deep cultural resonance (salt) or at least entertaining quirkiness (punctuation marks, resignation letters). Shipping containers are important but simple and boring. The least interesting chapter in The Box covers container standardization, in which a whole bunch of people had boring meetings, wrote some things done, discovered many of the things they wrote down were dumb, wrote more things down, met with different people to have more meetings, published a standard that partly reflected the fixations of that one guy who is always involved in standards discussions, and then saw that standard be promptly ignored by the major market players. You may be wondering if that describes the whole book. It doesn't, but not because of the shipping containers. The Box is interesting because the process of economic change is interesting, and container shipping is almost entirely about business processes rather than technology. Levinson starts the substance of the book with a description of shipping before standardized containers. This was the most effective, and probably the most informative, chapter. Beyond some vague ideas picked up via cultural osmosis, I had no idea how cargo shipping worked. Levinson gives the reader a memorable feel for the sheer amount of physical labor involved in loading and unloading a ship with mixed cargo (what's called "breakbulk" cargo to distinguish it from bulk cargo like coal or wheat that fills an entire hold). It's not just the effort of hauling barrels, bales, or boxes with cranes or raw muscle power, although that is significant. It's also the need to touch every piece of cargo to move it, inventory it, warehouse it, and then load it on a truck or train. The idea of container shipping is widely attributed, including by Levinson, to Malcom McLean, a trucking magnate who became obsessed with the idea of what we now call intermodal transport: using the same container for goods on ships, railroads, and trucks so that the contents don't have to be unpacked and repacked at each transfer point. Levinson uses his career as an anchor for the story, from his acquisition of Pan-American Steamship Corporation to pursue his original idea (backed by private equity and debt, in a very modern twist), through his years running Sea-Land as the first successful major container shipper, and culminating in his disastrous attempted return to shipping by acquiring United States Lines. I am dubious of Great Man narratives in history books, and I think Levinson may be overselling McLean's role. Container shipping was an obvious idea that the industry had been talking about for decades. Even Levinson admits that, despite a few gestures at giving McLean central credit. Everyone involved in shipping understood that cargo handling was the most expensive and time-consuming part, and that if one could minimize cargo handling at the docks by loading and unloading full containers that didn't have to be opened, shipping costs would be much lower (and profits higher). The idea wasn't the hard part. McLean was the first person to pull it off at scale, thanks to some audacious economic risks and a willingness to throw sharp elbows and play politics, but it seems likely that someone else would have played that role if McLean hadn't existed. Container shipping didn't happen earlier because achieving that cost savings required a huge expenditure of capital and a major disruption of a transportation industry that wasn't interested in being disrupted. The ships had to be remodeled and eventually replaced; manufacturing had to change; railroad and trucking in theory had to change (in practice, intermodal transport; McLean's obsession, didn't happen at scale until much later); pricing had to be entirely reworked; logistical tracking of goods had to be done much differently; and significant amounts of extremely expensive equipment to load and unload heavy containers had to be designed, built, and installed. McLean's efforts proved the cost savings was real and compelling, but it still took two decades before the shipping industry reconstructed itself around containers. That interim period is where this history becomes a labor story, and that's where Levinson's biases become somewhat distracting. In the United States, loading and unloading of cargo ships was done by unionized longshoremen through a bizarre but complex and long-standing system of contract hiring. The cost savings of container shipping comes almost completely from the loss of work for longshoremen. It's a classic replacement of labor with capital; the work done by gangs of twenty or more longshoreman is instead done by a single crane operator at much higher speed and efficiency. The longshoreman unions therefore opposed containerization and launched numerous strikes and other labor actions to delay use of containers, force continued hiring that containers made unnecessary, or win buyouts and payoffs for current longshoremen. Levinson is trying to write a neutral history and occasionally shows some sympathy for longshoremen, but they still get the Luddite treatment in this book: the doomed reactionaries holding back progress. Longshoremen had a vigorous and powerful union that won better working conditions structured in ways that look absurd to outsiders, such as requiring that ships hire twice as many men as necessary so that half of them could get paid while not working. The unions also had a reputation for corruption that Levinson stresses constantly, and theft of breakbulk cargo during loading and warehousing was common. One of the interesting selling points for containers was that lossage from theft during shipping apparently decreased dramatically. It's obvious that the surface demand of the longshoremen unions, that either containers not be used or that just as many manual laborers be hired for container shipping as for earlier breakbulk shipping, was impossible, and that the profession as it existed in the 1950s was doomed. But beneath those facts, and the smoke screen of Levinson's obvious distaste for their unions, is a real question about what society owes workers whose jobs are eliminated by major shifts in business practices. That question of fairness becomes more pointed when one realizes that this shift was massively subsidized by US federal and local governments. McLean's Sea-Land benefited from direct government funding and subsidized navy surplus ships, massive port construction in New Jersey with public funds, and a sweetheart logistics contract from the US military to supply troops fighting the Vietnam War that was so generous that the return voyage was free and every container Sea-Land picked up from Japanese ports was pure profit. The US shipping industry was heavily government-supported, particularly in the early days when the labor conflicts were starting. Levinson notes all of this, but never draws the contrast between the massive support for shipping corporations and the complete lack of formal support for longshoremen. There are hard ethical questions about what society owes displaced workers even in a pure capitalist industry transformation, and this was very far from pure capitalism. The US government bankrolled large parts of the growth of container shipping, but the only way that longshoremen could get part of that money was through strikes to force payouts from private shipping companies. There are interesting questions of social and ethical history here that would require careful disentangling of the tendency of any group to oppose disruptive change and fairness questions of who gets government support and who doesn't. They will have to wait for another book; Levinson never mentions them. There were some things about this book that annoyed me, but overall it's a solid work of popular history and deserves its fame. Levinson's account is easy to follow, specific without being tedious, and backed by voluminous notes. It's not the most compelling story on its own merits; you have to have some interest in logistics and economics to justify reading the entire saga. But it's the sort of history that gives one a sense of the fractal complexity of any area of human endeavor, and I usually find those worth reading. Recommended if you like this sort of thing. Rating: 7 out of 10

Earlier this year, after Github accidentally committed their private RSA SSH host key to a public repository, I wrote about how better support for SSH host certificates would allow this sort of situation to be handled in a user-transparent way without any negative impact on security. I was hoping that someone would read this and be inspired to fix the problem but sadly that didn't happen so I've actually written some code myself.

The core part of this is straightforward - if a server presents you with a certificate associated with a host key, then make the trust in that host be whoever signed the certificate rather than just trusting the host key. This means that if someone needs to replace the host key for any reason (such as, for example, them having published the private half), you can replace the host key with a new key and a new certificate, and as long as the new certificate is signed by the same key that the previous certificate was, you'll trust the new key and key rotation can be carried out without any user errors. Hurrah!

So obviously I wrote that bit and then thought about the failure modes and it turns out there's an obvious one - if an attacker obtained both the private key and the certificate, what stops them from continuing to use it? The certificate isn't a secret, so we basically have to assume that anyone who possesses the private key has access to it. We may have silently transitioned to a new host key on the legitimate servers, but a hostile actor able to MITM a user can keep on presenting the old key and the old certificate until it expires.

There's two ways to deal with this - either have short-lived certificates (ie, issue a new certificate every 24 hours or so even if you haven't changed the key, and specify that the certificate is invalid after those 24 hours), or have a mechanism to revoke the certificates. The former is viable if you have a very well-engineered certificate issuing operation, but still leaves a window for an attacker to make use of the certificate before it expires. The latter is something SSH has support for, but the spec doesn't define any mechanism for distributing revocation data.

So, I've implemented a new SSH protocol extension that allows a host to send a key revocation list to a client. The idea is that the client authenticates to the server, receives a key revocation list, and will no longer trust any certificates that are contained within that list. This seems simple enough, but a naive implementation opens the client to various DoS attacks. For instance, if you simply revoke any key contained within the received KRL, a hostile server could revoke any certificates that were otherwise trusted by the client. The easy way around this is for the client to ensure that any revoked keys are associated with the same CA that signed the host certificate - that way a compromised host can only revoke certificates associated with that CA, and can't interfere with anyone else.

Unfortunately that still means that a single compromised host can still trigger revocation of certificates inside that trust domain (ie, a compromised host a.test.com could push a KRL that invalidated the certificate for b.test.com), because there's no way in the KRL format to indicate that a given revocation is associated with a specific hostname. This means we need a mechanism to verify that the KRL update is legitimate, and the easiest way to handle that is to sign it. The KRL format specifies an in-band signature but this was deprecated earlier this year - instead KRLs are supposed to be signed with the sshsig format. But we control both the server and the client, which means it's easy enough to send a detached signature as part of the extension data.

Putting this all together: you ssh to a server you've never contacted before, and it presents you with a host certificate. Instead of the host key being added to known_hosts, the CA key associated with the certificate is added. From now on, if you ssh to that host and it presents a certificate signed by that CA, it'll be trusted. Optionally, the host can also send you a KRL and a signature. If the signature is generated by the CA key that you already trust, any certificates in that KRL associated with that CA key will be incorporated into local storage. The expected flow if a key is compromised is that the owner of the host generates a new keypair, obtains a new certificate for the new key, and adds the old certificate to a KRL that is signed with the CA key. The next time the user connects to that host, they receive the new key and new certificate, trust it because it's signed by the same CA key, and also receive a KRL signed with the same CA that revokes trust in the old certificate.

Obviously this breaks down if a user is MITMed with a compromised key and certificate immediately after the host is compromised - they'll see a legitimate certificate and won't receive any revocation list, so will trust the host. But this is the same failure mode that would occur in the absence of keys, where the attacker simply presents the compromised key to the client before trust in the new key has been created. This seems no worse than the status quo, but means that most users will seamlessly transition to a new key and revoke trust in the old key with no effort on their part.

The work in progress tree for this is here - at the point of writing I've merely implemented this and made sure it builds, not verified that it actually works or anything. Cleanup should happen over the next few days, and I'll propose this to upstream if it doesn't look like there's any showstopper design issues.

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Review: Going Infinite, by Michael Lewis

Publisher:	W.W. Norton & Company
Copyright:	2023
ISBN:	1-324-07434-5
Format:	Kindle
Pages:	255

My first reaction when I heard that Michael Lewis had been embedded with Sam Bankman-Fried working on a book when Bankman-Fried's cryptocurrency exchange FTX collapsed into bankruptcy after losing billions of dollars of customer deposits was "holy shit, why would you talk to Michael Lewis about your dodgy cryptocurrency company?" Followed immediately by "I have to read this book." This is that book. I wasn't sure how Lewis would approach this topic. His normal (although not exclusive) area of interest is financial systems and crises, and there is lots of room for multiple books about cryptocurrency fiascoes using someone like Bankman-Fried as a pivot. But Going Infinite is not like The Big Short or Lewis's other financial industry books. It's a nearly straight biography of Sam Bankman-Fried, with just enough context for the reader to follow his life. To understand what you're getting in Going Infinite, I think it's important to understand what sort of book Lewis likes to write. Lewis is not exactly a reporter, although he does explain complicated things for a mass audience. He's primarily a storyteller who collects people he finds fascinating. This book was therefore never going to be like, say, Carreyrou's Bad Blood or Isaac's Super Pumped. Lewis's interest is not in a forensic account of how FTX or Alameda Research were structured. His interest is in what makes Sam Bankman-Fried tick, what's going on inside his head. That's not a question Lewis directly answers, though. Instead, he shows you Bankman-Fried as Lewis saw him and was able to reconstruct from interviews and sources and lets you draw your own conclusions. Boy did I ever draw a lot of conclusions, most of which were highly unflattering. However, one conclusion I didn't draw, and had been dubious about even before reading this book, was that Sam Bankman-Fried was some sort of criminal mastermind who intentionally plotted to steal customer money. Lewis clearly doesn't believe this is the case, and with the caveat that my study of the evidence outside of this book has been spotty and intermittent, I think Lewis has the better of the argument. I am utterly fascinated by this, and I'm afraid this review is going to turn into a long summary of my take on the argument, so here's the capsule review before you get bored and wander off: This is a highly entertaining book written by an excellent storyteller. I am also inclined to believe most of it is true, but given that I'm not on the jury, I'm not that invested in whether Lewis is too credulous towards the explanations of the people involved. What I do know is that it's a fantastic yarn with characters who are too wild to put in fiction, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. There are a few things that everyone involved appears to agree on, and therefore I think we can take as settled. One is that Bankman-Fried, and most of the rest of FTX and Alameda Research, never clearly distinguished between customer money and all of the other money. It's not obvious that their home-grown accounting software (written entirely by one person! who never spoke to other people! in code that no one else could understand!) was even capable of clearly delineating between their piles of money. Another is that FTX and Alameda Research were thoroughly intermingled. There was no official reporting structure and possibly not even a coherent list of employees. The environment was so chaotic that lots of people, including Bankman-Fried, could have stolen millions of dollars without anyone noticing. But it was also so chaotic that they could, and did, literally misplace millions of dollars by accident, or because Bankman-Fried had problems with object permanence. Something that was previously less obvious from news coverage but that comes through very clearly in this book is that Bankman-Fried seriously struggled with normal interpersonal and societal interactions. We know from multiple sources that he was diagnosed with ADHD and depression (Lewis describes it specifically as anhedonia, the inability to feel pleasure). The ADHD in Lewis's account is quite severe and does not sound controlled, despite medication; for example, Bankman-Fried routinely played timed video games while he was having important meetings, forgot things the moment he stopped dealing with them, was constantly on his phone or seeking out some other distraction, and often stimmed (by bouncing his leg) to a degree that other people found it distracting. Perhaps more tellingly, Bankman-Fried repeatedly describes himself in diary entries and correspondence to other people (particularly Caroline Ellison, his employee and on-and-off secret girlfriend) as being devoid of empathy and unable to access his own emotions, which Lewis supports with stories from former co-workers. I'm very hesitant to diagnose someone via a book, but, at least in Lewis's account, Bankman-Fried nearly walks down the symptom list of antisocial personality disorder in his own description of himself to other people. (The one exception is around physical violence; there is nothing in this book or in any of the other reporting that I've seen to indicate that Bankman-Fried was violent or physically abusive.) One of the recurrent themes of this book is that Bankman-Fried never saw the point in following rules that didn't make sense to him or worrying about things he thought weren't important, and therefore simply didn't. By about a third of the way into this book, before FTX is even properly started, very little about its eventual downfall will seem that surprising. There was no way that Sam Bankman-Fried was going to be able to run a successful business over time. He was extremely good at probabilistic trading and spotting exploitable market inefficiencies, and extremely bad at essentially every other aspect of living in a society with other people, other than a hit-or-miss ability to charm that worked much better with large audiences than one-on-one. The real question was why anyone would ever entrust this man with millions of dollars or decide to work for him for longer than two weeks. The answer to those questions changes over the course of this story. Later on, it was timing. Sam Bankman-Fried took the techniques of high frequency trading he learned at Jane Street Capital and applied them to exploiting cryptocurrency markets at precisely the right time in the cryptocurrency bubble. There was far more money than sense, the most ruthless financial players were still too leery to get involved, and a rising tide was lifting all boats, even the ones that were piles of driftwood. When cryptocurrency inevitably collapsed, so did his businesses. In retrospect, that seems inevitable. The early answer, though, was effective altruism. A full discussion of effective altruism is beyond the scope of this review, although Lewis offers a decent introduction in the book. The short version is that a sensible and defensible desire to use stronger standards of evidence in evaluating charitable giving turned into a bizarre navel-gazing exercise in making up statistical risks to hypothetical future people and treating those made-up numbers as if they should be the bedrock of one's personal ethics. One of the people most responsible for this turn is an Oxford philosopher named Will MacAskill. Sam Bankman-Fried was already obsessed with utilitarianism, in part due to his parents' philosophical beliefs, and it was a presentation by Will MacAskill that converted him to the effective altruism variant of extreme utilitarianism. In Lewis's presentation, this was like joining a cult. The impression I came away with feels like something out of a science fiction novel: Bankman-Fried knew there was some serious gap in his thought processes where most people had empathy, was deeply troubled by this, and latched on to effective altruism as the ethical framework to plug into that hole. So much of effective altruism sounds like a con game that it's easy to think the participants are lying, but Lewis clearly believes Bankman-Fried is a true believer. He appeared to be sincerely trying to make money in order to use it to solve existential threats to society, he does not appear to be motivated by money apart from that goal, and he was following through (in bizarre and mostly ineffective ways). I find this particularly believable because effective altruism as a belief system seems designed to fit Bankman-Fried's personality and justify the things he wanted to do anyway. Effective altruism says that empathy is meaningless, emotion is meaningless, and ethical decisions should be made solely on the basis of expected value: how much return (usually in safety) does society get for your investment. Effective altruism says that all the things that Sam Bankman-Fried was bad at were useless and unimportant, so he could stop feeling bad about his apparent lack of normal human morality. The only thing that mattered was the thing that he was exceptionally good at: probabilistic reasoning under uncertainty. And, critically to the foundation of his business career, effective altruism gave him access to investors and a recruiting pool of employees, things he was entirely unsuited to acquiring the normal way. There's a ton more of this book that I haven't touched on, but this review is already quite long, so I'll leave you with one more point. I don't know how true Lewis's portrayal is in all the details. He took the approach of getting very close to most of the major players in this drama and largely believing what they said happened, supplemented by startling access to sources like Bankman-Fried's personal diary and Caroline Ellis's personal diary. (He also seems to have gotten extensive information from the personal psychiatrist of most of the people involved; I'm not sure if there's some reasonable explanation for this, but based solely on the material in this book, it seems to be a shocking breach of medical ethics.) But Lewis is a storyteller more than he's a reporter, and his bias is for telling a great story. It's entirely possible that the events related here are not entirely true, or are skewed in favor of making a better story. It's certainly true that they're not the complete story. But, that said, I think a book like this is a useful counterweight to the human tendency to believe in moral villains. This is, frustratingly, a counterweight extended almost exclusively to higher-class white people like Bankman-Fried. This is infuriating, but that doesn't make it wrong. It means we should extend that analysis to more people. Once FTX collapsed, a lot of people became very invested in the idea that Bankman-Fried was a straightforward embezzler. Either he intended from the start to steal everyone's money or, more likely, he started losing money, panicked, and stole customer money to cover the hole. Lots of people in history have done exactly that, and lots of people involved in cryptocurrency have tenuous attachments to ethics, so this is a believable story. But people are complicated, and there's also truth in the maxim that every villain is the hero of their own story. Lewis is after a less boring story than "the crook stole everyone's money," and that leads to some bias. But sometimes the less boring story is also true. Here's the thing: even if Sam Bankman-Fried never intended to take any money, he clearly did intend to mix customer money with Alameda Research funds. In Lewis's account, he never truly believed in them as separate things. He didn't care about following accounting or reporting rules; he thought they were boring nonsense that got in his way. There is obvious criminal intent here in any reading of the story, so I don't think Lewis's more complex story would let him escape prosecution. He refused to follow the rules, and as a result a lot of people lost a lot of money. I think it's a useful exercise to leave mental space for the possibility that he had far less obvious reasons for those actions than that he was a simple thief, while still enforcing the laws that he quite obviously violated. This book was great. If you like Lewis's style, this was some of the best entertainment I've read in a while. Highly recommended; if you are at all interested in this saga, I think this is a must-read. Rating: 9 out of 10

Review: Going Postal, by Terry Pratchett

Series:	Discworld #33
Publisher:	Harper
Copyright:	October 2004
Printing:	November 2014
ISBN:	0-06-233497-2
Format:	Mass market
Pages:	471

Going Postal is the 33rd Discworld novel. You could probably start here if you wanted to; there are relatively few references to previous books, and the primary connection (to Feet of Clay) is fully re-explained. I suspect that's why Going Postal garnered another round of award nominations. There are arguable spoilers for Feet of Clay, however. Moist von Lipwig is a con artist. Under a wide variety of names, he's swindled and forged his way around the Disc, always confident that he can run away from or talk his way out of any trouble. As Going Postal begins, however, it appears his luck has run out. He's about to be hanged. Much to his surprise, he wakes up after his carefully performed hanging in Lord Vetinari's office, where he's offered a choice. He can either take over the Ankh-Morpork post office, or he can die. Moist, of course, immediately agrees to run the post office, and then leaves town at the earliest opportunity, only to be carried back into Vetinari's office by a relentlessly persistent golem named Mr. Pump. He apparently has a parole officer. The clacks, Discworld's telegraph system first seen in The Fifth Elephant, has taken over most communications. The city is now dotted with towers, and the Grand Trunk can take them at unprecedented speed to even far-distant cities like Genua. The post office, meanwhile, is essentially defunct, as Moist quickly discovers. There are two remaining employees, the highly eccentric Junior Postman Groat who is still Junior because no postmaster has lasted long enough to promote him, and the disturbingly intense Apprentice Postman Stanley, who collects pins. Other than them, the contents of the massive post office headquarters are a disturbing mail sorting machine designed by Bloody Stupid Johnson that is not picky about which dimension or timeline the sorted mail comes from, and undelivered mail. A lot of undelivered mail. Enough undelivered mail that there may be magical consequences. All Moist has to do is get the postal system running again. Somehow. And not die in mysterious accidents like the previous five postmasters. Going Postal is a con artist story, but it's also a startup and capitalism story. Vetinari is, as always, solving a specific problem in his inimitable indirect way. The clacks were created by engineers obsessed with machinery and encodings and maintenance, but it's been acquired by... well, let's say private equity, because that's who they are, although Discworld doesn't have that term. They immediately did what private equity always did: cut out everything that didn't extract profit, without regard for either the service or the employees. Since the clacks are an effective monopoly and the new owners are ruthless about eliminating any possible competition, there isn't much to stop them. Vetinari's chosen tool is Moist. There are some parts of this setup that I love and one part that I'm grumbly about. A lot of the fun of this book is seeing Moist pulled into the mission of resurrecting the post office despite himself. He starts out trying to wriggle out of his assigned task, but, after a few early successes and a supernatural encounter with the mail, he can't help but start to care. Reformed con men often make good protagonists because one can enjoy the charisma without disliking the ethics. Pratchett adds the delightfully sharp-witted and cynical Adora Belle Dearheart as a partial reader stand-in, which makes the process of Moist becoming worthy of his protagonist role even more fun. I think that a properly functioning postal service is one of the truly monumental achievements of human society and doesn't get nearly enough celebration (or support, or pay, or good working conditions). Give me a story about reviving a postal service by someone who appreciates the tradition and social role as much as Pratchett clearly does and I'm there. The only frustration is that Going Postal is focused more on an immediate plot, so we don't get to see the larger infrastructure recovery that is clearly needed. (Maybe in later books?) That leads to my grumble, though. Going Postal and specifically the takeover of the clacks is obviously inspired by corporate structures in the later Industrial Revolution, but this book was written in 2004, so it's also a book about private equity and startups. When Vetinari puts a con man in charge of the post office, he runs it like a startup: do lots of splashy things to draw attention, promise big and then promise even bigger, stumble across a revenue source that may or may not be sustainable, hire like mad, and hope it all works out. This makes for a great story in the same way that watching trapeze artists or tightrope walkers is entertaining. You know it's going to work because that's the sort of book you're reading, so you can enjoy the audacity and wonder how Moist will manage to stay ahead of his promises. But it is still a con game applied to a public service, and the part of me that loves the concept of the postal service couldn't stop feeling like this is part of the problem. The dilemma that Vetinari is solving is a bit too realistic, down to the requirement that the post office be self-funding and not depend on city funds and, well, this is repugnant to me. Public services aren't businesses. Societies spend money to build things that they need to maintain society, and postal service is just as much one of those things as roads are. The ability of anyone to send a letter to anyone else, no matter how rural the address is, provides infrastructure on which a lot of important societal structure is built. Pratchett made me care a great deal about Ankh-Morpork's post office (not hard to do), and now I want to see it rebuilt properly, on firm foundations, without splashy promises and without a requirement that it pay for itself. Which I realize is not the point of Discworld at all, but the concept of running a postal service like a startup hits maybe a bit too close to home. Apart from that grumble, this is a great book if you're in the mood for a reformed con man story. I thought the gold suit was a bit over the top, but I otherwise thought Moist's slow conversion to truly caring about his job was deeply satisfying. The descriptions of the clacks are full of askew Discworld parodies of computer networking and encoding that I enjoyed more than I thought I would. This is also the book that introduced the now-famous (among Pratchett fans at least) GNU instruction for the clacks, and I think that scene is the most emotionally moving bit of Pratchett outside of Night Watch. Going Postal is one of the better books in the Discworld series to this point (and I'm sadly getting near the end). If you have less strongly held opinions about management and funding models for public services, or at least are better at putting them aside when reading fantasy novels, you're likely to like it even more than I did. Recommended. Followed by Thud!. The thematic sequel is Making Money. Rating: 8 out of 10

The DebConf video team has been sprinting in preparation for DebConf 23 which will happen in Kochi, India, in September of this year. Present were Nicolas "olasd" Dandrimont, Stefano "tumbleweed" Rivera, and yours truly. Additionally, Louis-Philippe "pollo" V ronneau and Carl "CarlFK" Karsten joined the sprint remotely from across the pond. Thank you to the DPL for agreeing to fund flights, food, and accomodation for the team members. We would also like to extend a special thanks to the Association April for hosting our sprint at their offices. We made a lot of progress:

• Now that Debian Bookworm has been released, we updated our ansible repository to work with Debian Bookworm. This encountered some issues, but nothing earth-shattering, and almost all of them are handled. The one thing that is still outstanding is that jibri requires OpenJDK 11, which is no longer in bookworm; a solution for that will need to be found in the longer term, but as jibri is only needed for online conferences, it is not quite as urgent (Stefano, Louis-Philippe).
• In past years, we used open "opsis" hardware to do screen grabbing. While these work, upstream development has stalled, and their intended functionality is also somewhat more limited than we would like. As such, we experimented with a USB-based HDMI capture device, and after playing with it for some time, decided that it is a good option and that we would like to switch to it. Support for the specific capture device that we played with has now also been added to all the relevant places. (Stefano, Carl)
• Another open tool that we have been using is voctomix, a software video mixer. Its upstream development has also stalled somewhat . While we managed to make it work correctly on Bookworm, we decided that to ensure long-term viability for the team, it would be preferable if we had an alternative. As such, we quickly investigated Nageru, Sesse's software video mixer, and decided that it can everything we need (and, probably, more). As such, we worked on implementing a user interface theme that would work with our specific requirements. Work on this is still ongoing, and we may decide that we are not ready yet for the switch by the time DebConf23 comes along, but we do believe that the switch is at least feasible. While working on the theme, we found a bug which Sesse quickly fixed for us after a short amount of remote debugging, so, thanks for that! (Stefano, Nicolas, Sesse)
• Our current streaming architecture uses HLS, which requires MPEG-4-based codecs. While fully functional, MPEG-4 is not the most modern of codecs anymore, not to mention the fact that it is somewhat patent-encumbered (even though some of these patents are expired by now). As such, we investigated switching to the AV1 codec for live streaming. Our ansible repository has been updated to support live streaming using that codec; the post-event transcoding part will follow soon enough. Special thanks, again, to Sesse, for pointing out a few months ago on Planet Debian that this is, in fact, possible to do. (Wouter)
• Apart from these big-ticket items, we also worked on various small maintenance things: upgrading, fixing, and reinstalling hosts and services, filing budget requests, and requesting role emails. (all of the team, really).

It is now Sunday the 23rd at 14:15, and while the sprint is coming to an end, we haven't quite finished yet, so some more progress can still be made. Let's see what happens by tonight. All in all, though, we believe that the progress we made will make the DebConf Videoteam's work a bit easier in some areas, and will make things work better in the future. See you in Kochi!

Review: The Wee Free Men, by Terry Pratchett

Series:	Discworld #30
Publisher:	HarperTempest
Copyright:	2003
Printing:	2006
ISBN:	0-06-001238-2
Format:	Mass market
Pages:	375

The Wee Free Men is the 30th Discworld novel but the first Tiffany Aching book and doesn't rely on prior knowledge of Discworld, although the witches from previous books do appear. You could start here, although I think the tail end of the book has more impact if you already know who Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg are. The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents was the first Discworld novel written to be young adult, and although I could see that if I squinted, it didn't feel that obviously YA to me. The Wee Free Men is clearly young adult (or perhaps middle grade), right down to the quintessential protagonist: a nine-year-old girl who is practical and determined and a bit of a misfit and does a lot of growing up over the course of the story. Tiffany Aching is the youngest daughter in a large Aching family that comes from a long history of Aching families living in the Chalk. She has a pile of older relatives and one younger brother named Wentworth who is an annoying toddler obsessed with sweets. Her family work a farm that is theoretically the property of the local baron but has been in their family for years. There is always lots to do and Tiffany is an excellent dairymaid, so people mostly leave her alone with her thoughts and her tiny collection of books from her grandmother. Her now-deceased Grandma Aching was a witch. Tiffany, as it turns out, is also a witch, not that she knows that. As the book opens, certain... things are trying to get into her world from elsewhere. The first is a green monster that pops up out of the river and attempts to snatch Wentworth, much to Tiffany's annoyance. She identifies it as Jenny Green-Teeth via a book of fairy tales and dispatches it with a frying pan, somewhat to her surprise, but worse are coming. Even more surprised by her frying pan offensive are the Nac Mac Feegle, last seen in Carpe Jugulum, who know something about where this intrusion is coming from. In short order, the Aching farm has a Nac Mac Feegle infestation. This is, unfortunately, another book about Discworld's version of fairy (or elves, as they were called in Lords and Ladies). I find stories about the fae somewhat hit and miss, and Pratchett's version is one of my least favorites. The Discworld Queen of Fairy is mostly a one-dimensional evil monster and not a very interesting one. A big chunk of the plot is an extended sequence of dreams that annoyed me and went on for about twice as long as it needed to. That's the downside of this book. The upside is that Tiffany Aching is exactly the type of protagonist I loved reading about as a kid, and still love reading about as an adult. She's thoughtful, curious, observant, determined, and uninterested in taking any nonsense from anyone. She has a lot to learn, both about the world and about herself, but she doesn't have to be taught lessons twice and she has a powerful innate sense of justice. She also has a delightfully sarcastic sense of humor.

"Zoology, eh? That's a big word, isn't it." "No, actually it isn't," said Tiffany. "Patronizing is a big word. Zoology is really quite short."

One of the best things that Pratchett does with this book is let Tiffany dislike her little brother. Wentworth eventually ends up in trouble and Tiffany has to go rescue him, which of course she does because he's her baby brother. But she doesn't like him; he's annoying and sticky and constantly going on about sweets and never says anything interesting. Tiffany is aware that she's supposed to love him because he's her little brother, but of course this is not how love actually works, and she doesn't. But she goes and rescues him anyway, because that's the right thing to do, and because he's hers. There are a lot of adult novels that show the nuanced and sometimes uncomfortable emotions we have about family members, but this sort of thing is a bit rarer in novels pitched at pre-teens, and I loved it. One valid way to read it is that Tiffany is neurodivergent, but I think she simply has a reasonable reaction to a brother who is endlessly annoying and too young to have many redeeming qualities in her eyes, and no one forces her to have a more socially expected one. It doesn't matter what you feel about things; it matters what you do, and as long as you do the right thing, you can have whatever feelings about it you want. This is a great lesson for this type of book. The other part of this book that I adored was the stories of Grandma Aching. Tiffany is fairly matter-of-fact about her dead grandmother at the start of the book, but it becomes clear over the course of the story that she's grieving in her own way. Grandma Aching was a taciturn shepherd who rarely put more than two words together and was much better with sheep than people, but she was the local witch in the way that Granny Weatherwax was a witch, and Tiffany was paying close attention. They never managed to communicate as much as either of them wanted, but the love shines through Tiffany's memories. Grandma Aching was teaching her how to be a witch: not the magical parts, but the far more important parts about justice and fairness and respect for other people. This was a great introduction of a new character and a solid middle-grade or young YA novel. I was not a fan of the villain and I can take or leave the Nac Mac Feegle (who are basically Scottish Smurfs crossed with ants and are a little too obviously the comic relief, for all that they're also effective warriors). But Tiffany is great and the stories of Grandma Aching are even better. This was not as good as Night Watch (very few things are), but it was well worth reading. Followed in publication order by Monstrous Regiment. The next Tiffany Aching novel is A Hat Full of Sky. Rating: 8 out of 10

Review: A Half-Built Garden, by Ruthanna Emrys

Publisher:	Tordotcom
Copyright:	2022
ISBN:	1-250-21097-6
Format:	Kindle
Pages:	340

The climate apocalypse has happened. Humans woke up to the danger, but a little bit too late. Over one billion people died. But the world on the other side of that apocalypse is not entirely grim. The corporations responsible for so much of the damage have been pushed out of society and isolated on their independent "aislands," traded with only grudgingly for the few commodities the rest of the world has not yet learned how to manufacture without them. Traditional governments have largely collapsed, although they cling to increasingly irrelevant trappings of power. In their place arose the watershed networks: a new way of living with both nature and other humans, built around a mix of anarchic consensus and direct democracy, with conservation and stewardship of the natural environment at its core. Therefore, when the aliens arrive near Bear Island on the Potomac River, they're not detected by powerful telescopes and met by military jets. Instead, their waste sets off water sensors, and they're met by the two women on call for alert duty, carrying a nursing infant and backed by the real-time discussion and consensus technology of the watershed's dandelion network. (Emrys is far from the first person to name something a "dandelion network," so be aware that the usage in this book seems unrelated to the charities or blockchain network.) This is a first contact novel, but it's one that skips over the typical focus of the subgenre. The alien Ringers are completely fluent in English down to subtle nuance of emotion and connotation (supposedly due to observation of our radio and TV signals), have translation devices, and in some cases can make our speech sounds directly. Despite significantly different body shapes, they are immediately comprehensible; differences are limited mostly to family structure, reproduction, and social norms. This is Star Trek first contact, not the type more typical of written science fiction. That feels unrealistic, but it's also obviously an authorial choice to jump directly to the part of the story that Emrys wants to write. The Ringers have come to save humanity. In their experience, technological civilization is inherently incompatible with planets. Technology will destroy the planet, and the planet will in turn destroy the species unless they can escape. They have reached other worlds multiple times before, only to discover that they were too late and everyone is already dead. This is the first time they've arrived in time, and they're eager to help humanity off its dying planet to join them in the Dyson sphere of space habitats they are constructing. Planets, to them, are a nest and a launching pad, something to eventually abandon and break down for spare parts. The small, unexpected wrinkle is that Judy, Carol, and the rest of their watershed network are not interested in leaving Earth. They've finally figured out the most critical pieces of environmental balance. Earth is going to get hotter for a while, but the trend is slowing. What they're doing is working. Humanity would benefit greatly from Ringer technology and the expertise that comes from managing closed habitat ecosystems, but they don't need rescuing. This goes over about as well as a toddler saying that playing in the road is perfectly safe. This is a fantastic hook for a science fiction novel. It does exactly what a great science fiction premise should do: takes current concerns (environmentalism, space boosterism, the debatable primacy of humans as a species, the appropriate role of space colonization, the tension between hopefulness and doomcasting about climate change) and uses the freedom of science fiction to twist them around and come at them from an entirely different angle. The design of the aliens is excellent for this purpose. The Ringers are not one alien species; they are two, evolved on different planets in the same system. The plains dwellers developed space flight first and went to meet the tree dwellers, and while their relationship is not entirely without hierarchy (the plains dwellers clearly lead on most matters), it's extensively symbiotic. They now form mixed families of both species, and have a rich cultural history of stories about first contact, interspecies conflicts and cooperation, and all the perils and misunderstandings that they successfully navigated. It makes their approach to humanity more believable to know that they have done first contact before and are building on a model. Their concern for humanity is credibly sincere. The joining of two species was wildly successful for them and they truly want to add a third. The politics on the human side are satisfyingly complicated. The watershed network may have made first contact, but the US government (in the form of NASA) is close behind, attempting to lean on its widely ignored formal power. The corporations are farther away and therefore slower to arrive, but the alien visitors have a damaged ship and need space to construct a subspace beacon and Asterion is happy to offer a site on one of its New Zealand islands. The corporate representatives are salivating at the chance to escape Earth and its environmental regulation for uncontrolled space construction and a new market of trillions of Ringers. NASA's attitude is more measured, but their representative is easily persuaded that the true future of humanity is in space. The work the watershed networks are doing is difficult, uncertain, and involves a lot of sacrifice, particularly for corporate consumer lifestyles. With such an attractive alien offer on the table, why stay and work so hard for an uncertain future? Maybe the Ringers are right. And then the dandelion networks that the watersheds use as the core of their governance and decision-making system all crash. The setup was great; I was completely invested. The execution was more mixed. There are some things I really liked, some things that I thought were a bit too easy or predictable, and several places where I wish Emrys had dug deeper and provided more detail. I thought the last third of the book fizzled a little, although some of the secondary characters Emrys introduces are delightful and carry the momentum of the story when the politics feel a bit lacking. If you tried to form a mental image of ecofeminist political science fiction with 1970s utopian sensibilities, but updated for the concerns of the 2020s, you would probably come very close to the politics of the watershed networks. There are considerably more breastfeedings and diaper changes than the average SF novel. Two of the primary characters are transgender, but with very different experiences with transition. Pronoun pins are an ubiquitous article of clothing. One of the characters has a prosthetic limb. Another character who becomes important later in the story codes as autistic. None of this felt gratuitous; the characters do come across as obsessed with gender, but in a way that I found believable. The human diversity is well-integrated with the story, shapes the characters, creates practical challenges, and has subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) political ramifications. But, and I say this with love because while these are not quite my people they're closely adjacent to my people, the social politics of this book are a very specific type of white feminist collaborative utopianism. When religion makes an appearance, I was completely unsurprised to find that several of the characters are Jewish. Race never makes a significant appearance at all. It's the sort of book where the throw-away references to other important watershed networks includes African ones, and the characters would doubtless try to be sensitive to racial issues if they came up, but somehow they never do. (If you're wondering if there's polyamory in this book, yes, yes there is, and also I suspect you know exactly what culture I'm talking about.) This is not intended as a criticism, just more of a calibration. All science fiction publishing houses could focus only on this specific political perspective for a year and the results would still be dwarfed by the towering accumulated pile of thoughtless paeans to capitalism. Ecofeminism has a long history in the genre but still doesn't show up in that many books, and we're far from exhausting the space of possibilities for what a consensus-based politics could look like with extensive computer support. But this book has a highly specific point of view, enough so that there won't be many thought-provoking surprises if you're already familiar with this school of political thought. The politics are also very earnest in a way that I admit provoked a bit of eyerolling. Emrys pushes all of the political conflict into the contrasts between the human factions, but I would have liked more internal disagreement within the watershed networks over principles rather than tactics. The degree of ideological agreement within the watershed group felt a bit unrealistic. But, that said, at least politics truly matters and the characters wrestle directly with some tricky questions. I would have liked to see more specifics about the dandelion network and the exact mechanics of the consensus decision process, since that sort of thing is my jam, but we at least get more details than are typical in science fiction. I'll take this over cynical libertarianism any day. Gender plays a huge role in this story, enough so that you should avoid this book if you're not interested in exploring gender conceptions. One of the two alien races is matriarchal and places immense social value on motherhood, and it's culturally expected to bring your children with you for any important negotiation. The watersheds actively embrace this, or at worst find it comfortable to use for their advantage, despite a few hints that the matriarchy of the plains aliens may have a very serious long-term demographic problem. In an interesting twist, it's the mostly-evil corporations that truly challenge gender roles, albeit by turning it into an opportunity to sell more clothing. The Asterion corporate representatives are, as expected, mostly the villains of the plot: flashy, hierarchical, consumerist, greedy, and exploitative. But gender among the corporations is purely a matter of public performance, one of a set of roles that you can put on and off as you choose and signal with clothing. They mostly use neopronouns, change pronouns as frequently as their clothing, and treat any question of body plumbing as intensely private. By comparison, the very 2020 attitudes of the watersheds towards gender felt oddly conservative and essentialist, and the main characters get flustered and annoyed by the ever-fluid corporate gender presentation. I wish Emrys had done more with this. As you can tell, I have a lot of thoughts and a lot of quibbles. Another example: computer security plays an important role in the plot and was sufficiently well-described that I have serious questions about the system architecture and security model of the dandelion networks. But, as with decision-making and gender, the more important takeaway is that Emrys takes enough risks and describes enough interesting ideas that there's a lot of meat here to argue with. That, more than getting everything right, is what a good science fiction novel should do. A Half-Built Garden is written from a very specific political stance that may make it a bit predictable or off-putting, and I thought the tail end of the book had some plot and resolution problems, but arguing with it was one of the more intellectually satisfying science fiction reading experiences I've had recently. You have to be in the right mood, but recommended for when you are. Rating: 7 out of 10