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Started with Meshtastic, bit of a ghetto engineering for the battery doesn't fit the case supplied with the node .. just a couple of nodes so far, but I look forward to bringing it in the big city soon.
Mesh WiFi Router Security Features: Protecting Your Network and Devices
A mesh WiFi router not only improves coverage and speed but also enhances network security. In todayâs connected world, protecting personal and business data is more important than ever. Mesh WiFi systems include advanced security features designed to safeguard all connected devices.
Most mesh WiFi routers support modern encryption standards such as WPA3, which provides stronger protection against unauthorized access. Guest network capabilities allow visitors to connect without compromising the main network. Device-level controls help users manage access and monitor activity.
Mesh systems also receive automatic firmware updates, ensuring protection against the latest security threats. Many routers include firewall protection, intrusion detection, and parental controls, making them suitable for families and businesses alike.
Centralized management allows users to view security logs, block suspicious devices, and adjust settings from a single interface. This level of control is especially beneficial in environments with many connected devices.
By combining strong coverage with robust security, a mesh WiFi router offers a safer and more reliable networking solution.
The prospect of a widespread internet disruption is a genuine concern in our increasingly digital world. Our reliance on the internet for communication, commerce, and information access makes us vulnerable to the consequences of a prolonged outage. The centralization of our digital infrastructure, with a few tech giants controlling a significant portion of the cloud, exacerbates this vulnerability. A disruption to these services would have a ripple effect, impacting businesses, supply chains, and individuals alike.
However, crises often breed opportunities. Could an internet outage catalyze the rise of decentralized, community-driven networks? We've seen glimpses of this resilience in mesh networks used during protests and the proliferation of open-source tools promoting digital freedom. Could such initiatives not only survive but flourish in a landscape devoid of the traditional internet? Personal resilience starts with individual preparedness. Backing up data, utilizing offline knowledge repositories, and adopting secure communication protocols are not just good practices; they're essential for digital sovereignty. Preparing for an internet outage isn't about fear; it's about empowering ourselves with self-sufficiency.
Financial autonomy is equally crucial. Recognizing that banks are susceptible to disruption, exploring alternatives like cryptocurrency (in cold storage) and localized trade becomes prudent. In essence, while we prepare for potential digital turbulence, let's ground ourselves with analog foundations. Community networks, contingency plans, and an adaptable mindset are our anchors. Our goal shouldn't be merely to endure a digital blackout; it should be to cultivate a resilient lifestyle that thrives regardless of our online connectivity.
Counter-cultures are not just about opposing the status quo; they're about resilience and adaptability. Our responses to restrictions can foster the emergence of more robust, diverse systems that align with our inherent need for freedom and privacy. As we navigate the delicate balance between convenience and sovereignty, let's remember to look beyond our screens. Our neighbors, local communities, and the independence of thought are pillars that cannot be gated or switched off.
What happens if the entire Internet became offline or gated? As a thought experiment, how prepared would you or I be for an internet with se
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Solarpunk Music to Inspire Action with Thomas Cannon
On todayâs episode, Ariel talks with Thomas Cannon about solarpunk music and his new album MESH NETWORK. What was the inspiration behind this work of solarpunk ambient music? What is solarpunk music, anyway, and how can it help us today to create the just, sustainable, and equitable future that we all want to live in? Join us for a discussion of the album tracks, artwork, instruments, the process of collaborative music-making, and more.
References:
AlexisNicole / @blackforager on Instagramâs post on culturally-specific consumption of meat and veganism:
Food prices in Canadian north articles.
Country food definition from the Canadian Encyclopedia.
You can stream or buy MESH NETWORK at Bandcamp.com; bundled with the album purchase are the liner notes for each track as well as a beautiful art book.
EXCLUSIVE: Solarpunk Presents podcast listeners can get 50% off at checkout with the code âsolarpunkpresentsâ
You can find and follow Thomas Cannon on his Bandcamp profile and at his personal website, thomascannon.me
Connect with Solarpunk Presents Podcast on Mastodon @[email protected], or at our blog https://solarpunkpresents.com/
Chapter 1 - conditional statement
Boba Fett x Din Djarin x Fennec Shand x F!Reader (22+)
series masterlist
Chapter warnings: Very horny reader, kidnapping, reader is picked up by Fennec, a singular (1) spank
Word Count: 3386
Chapter 1 # Chapter 2 >
Splinters sprayed outward from the door frame, followed by the sole of a black steel-toed boot. You snapped your head up from the desk, taking in the scene as quickly as your panic-stricken mind could process it.
Youâd fallen asleep. Youâd deployed the exploit and you had fallen asleep. A quick glance at your laptop screen showed the tail end of the exploit successful message, and a hundred lines after that warning you of the reverse trace on your IP. That quick glance was all you got before the machine exploded in a shower of sparks and flying mechanical debris. Paradoxically, the sound of the gun going off only happened after you registered this. You could still feel the shift in the air from where the bullet had zipped past over your hands. You could taste the gunpowder, the fiery ozone discharge of the weapon, and you could feel its power in the throb deep in your ears.Â
The ringing in your head made the world move in a stunned sort of superimposed replay as you turned to face the intruder.
She stood tall in the doorframe. She hadnât moved more than a single step into your shitty apartment, and you couldnât blame her. She was dressed in all black, the coat pulling from her body to reveal a rich fiery orange lining. As she lowered her hand and the gun, nothing shook. It was possible that the gun itself didnât dare recoil against her palm. Her hair lay in one thick black braid over one shoulder, leading up to a head bearing an expression so icy you felt the room grow cold just from meeting her eyes.
She spoke. Her lips formed words nicely, you thought in the back of your mind.
You couldnât hear her; the single gunshot was still ringing in your ears. What? You asked her, feeling like you were trying to speak underwater.
She finally stalked forward, gun at her side but still in her hand. You cringed away, drawing your hands up in a sign of surrender, every survival instinct you had now gone. You could hear the tone of her voice as she spoke this time; sharp, clipped. You flinched away like sheâd fired another shot, and she looked almost disappointed at your reaction.
Before you could register what she was doing, she had your hands zip-tied together in front of you and held up what looked like a travel perfume aerosolizer. What?? You asked again.
She shook her head and sighed, pocketing it but not the gun. With the weapon, she gestured for you to walk out the door. You spared a look at your decimated laptop, by all accounts the only thing you owned, and decided to follow orders.
If you could see her face then, perhaps you would have seen a smile.
You were taken down the familiar flight of stairs to the back alley of your building and shoved shoulder-first into the trunk of a car. Once again, survival instinct fled you, and you couldnât help but wonder if you were still dozing off at your workstation, dreaming about dangerously beautiful women with dangerously precise trigger discipline.
Sheâd only had to kick in your door once.
Sheâd only had to fire the gun once.
Sheâd only had to ask you to come once.
You werenât sure if that was a slight on yourself, or a point in her favor.
##
The car didnât stop making twists and turns for over an hour. You didnât know the feel of The City from car rides; you knew it from rattling rail transit and cracked concrete underfoot. She drove like you had a life to get back to. At some point, you fell asleep again, because when she opened the trunk, she only had to do it once to wake you up again. Looking up at her, you blinked in the sudden light.
Wherever you were, the light cast a golden glow over the side of her face, highlighting a silvery scar high on her cheek. You could see into her coat, see the holstered gun and the car keys in her hand a moment before you were hauled up and over the lip of the trunk. You watched the world go by from upside-down, hanging over the womanâs shoulder and too stunned to move. âUh?â you said, earning you a spank on the ass. âUH?!â you continued.
âQuiet.â
âYes, maâam.â
âManners,â she said, drawing it out in a sing-song voice that made your spine shiver. âI like it.â
You knew that now was the most inconvenient time to get horny. That revelation lasted you all of twenty seconds before you were dumped back onto your feet, allowing you a brief moment where you stood on two feet before being launched into the arms of yet another tall, gorgeous person dressed in black.
He had the softest eyes youâd ever seen, but the set of his jaw and the jagged scar over his nose told you he was made of something much more dangerous than his eyes wanted you to believe. The all-black suit he wore only added to the image you were forming of him, depth in all things but murky and inky and unfathomable to the naked eye. He pulled his eyes from you and looked at the woman.
âWhatâs this?â He asked, his voice a raspy rumble that reminded you of heat lightning, summer storms and the quiet preceding them.
âThis one has a meeting with the boss.â
Her words were chosen carefully, you could tell from the manâs immediate reaction. His hand, huge and strong and warm, wrapped around your arm and pulled you down the hall to a bank of elevators. He didnât even have to punch the button before the heavy metallic doors slid open, revealing a mirrored box that showed a million images of its contents: a man and his unlucky charge.
He didnât let you go once for the entire ride up, eyes focused straight ahead and not even daring to meet yours in the reflection.
âWhatâs going on?â You whispered, hoping he would give you at least a simple answer. You considered covering your ass for a moment, in case he was as inclined as the woman was toward your questions.
To your surprise, he didnât spank you for asking a question. Instead, his eyes met yours in the mirror for the barest of moments. âMost likely a job interview.â
You werenât sure if he was joking or not. You couldnât tell, nor could you think about it any longer, because the doors were opening on an unnumbered floor. The digits hadnât gone up since 65, but youâd still felt the elevator moving upward.
Wherever you were going, it was definitely off the books.
The floors were a sleek black marble, with veins of silver and gold throughout, the grout between the large slabs glittering black in the low evening lights. Outside the large, floor-to-ceiling windows, The City flickered in the distance, the pier standing as a barrier between this building and the rest. No wonder you had no bearing on where you were; you were at the city limits. Youâd never even lived outside ofâ
The hand around your arm moved to your shoulders, resting over your jacket and ready to grab the material in case you ran. You fought the urge to twist at the zip ties and make his job more difficult. The man led you down a few turns and up a set of illuminated glass stairs so sturdy they sounded like steel as you walked over them. Everywhere you looked was tinged with dark luxury and fine minimalism, every corner radiating expensive and curated. You, by contrast, felt out of place with every growing second you remained in its walls.
You came to a stop outside an oak door closing behind a tall, salt-and-pepper-haired man with sharp features and a loose dark red tie around his neck. He looked a little haggard, some kind of scar marring the line of his neck and his stubbly facial hair.
âMarshal. He in?â
âYou gotta stop calling me that,â the man (Marshal?) said, his voice twanging with an accent definitely not from around these parts. âAnd heâs in, but he ainât taking any more business today.â
âThis business has made itself important,â your escort said, hand coming up to rest on your shoulder with a heavy weight that you felt even in the pit of your stomach.
âLeave it for the morning, Din,â a voice came from inside the still-cracked door of the office. Another accent unfamiliar to The City. It almost⌠sang, in a way, though even from here you could hear how tired the speaker was. âPut her up in a room.â
Your escort - Din - hesitated for a moment before nodding at the other man. âSee you later, Cobb.â
âTil our paths cross.â
Then he was gone, leaving you and Din in the hallway staring after him. Your eyes, curious, drifted to the heavy doors, with their black hardware and high-gloss lacquer you were anxious to breathe too close to. âCome on,â Din said, hand prodding you forward, past the door and down yet another hall.
He stopped you in front of a door bearing no markings from the rest to differentiate it, but he produced a keycard, tapping it against a mechanism that had it swinging open. In you went, discovering the large, simple bed and basic dwelling features, leading you to believeâ
âIs this a hotel?â You asked, your hundredth question of the night.
In a flash, there was a knife, then there were no more zip-ties. The weapon was gone before you could blink.Â
âTake a shower. Get some sleep. Iâll get you something to eat, but be awake at seven.â
He closed the door with you still inside, and you watched the handle on your side suck into the door, effectively locking you in with no way to get out.
Fuck.
Paralyzing fear gave way to paralyzing boredom, and your exploration of the room revealed no windows, a bathroom with no doors, grates over vents too small to fit through, and no drafts behind the large mirror in the bathroom. Theyâd thought of everything for this luxury prison cell.
The shampoo smelled really nice though.
Like mint and rosemary. Some kind of citrus, too. Your hair smelled like a really nice roast chicken.
After your shower, you found a set of clean sweatpants and a shirt which you changed into, not wanting to ruin your sparkly clean self with questionably-clean clothes. You slept with the lights on, tossing and turning until the clock hit 0700 on the nightstand.
It had left you a lot of time to think over the events that had gotten you to this point, and attempt to answer some questions on your own.
##
âThe tech team is hemorrhaging excuses,â Fennec said over her cappuccino, frowning at her tablet as she shared breakfast with Din. Boba was still swimming in the lap pool outside; said it woke him up more than any hot drink ever would.
âThey donât want to say they were inadequate,â Din said insightfully. When the security team had failed them in La CittĂ several months back, theyâd been made an example of for daring to shirk the duties of their job. Cobb, Din, and Fennec had been left to pick up the pieces, and Boba had nearly died.Â
It was no surprise the tech team was reluctant to admit their faults.
âThey donât have to say it, we know it already,â Fennec scoffed. âShe got into our finance server in like twenty minutes, she cut through the code like a hot knife through butter, from what I understand.â
âI canât tell if thatâs admiration or contempt,â Din said dryly.
âSix of one, half a dozen of the other,â Fennec shrugged and stood up. âHow do you think todayâs gonna go for her?â
Dinâs face clouded darkly, and Fennec didnât voice what she was feeling: Din was doing it again, letting his big heart control his principles.
âThatâs up to Boba. I just hope heâs in a good mood.â
âHe almost lost all of his digital banking assets to a kitten in her pajamas. I donât think he will be.â
##
Two sharp knocks at the door woke you from your half-doze. You jerked awake, scrambling to take in your surroundings and remember what had happened to get you there. The room was still lit by the side-table lamps, low and warm despite the chill in your body. This place had to be a hotel, always chilled too cold for comfort.
The sound of the door unlocking and opening brought you to a sitting position in bed. You knew you would be useless in a fight against your captors, so you sat still and tried to look as defenseless as possible, as if that would inspire mercy to your sentence.
Din rounded the corner to see you, holding a tray which he set down on the desk against the wall. âGood, youâre awake,â he said, pouring a cup of water before standing back. âEat, then weâll get started.â
Your appetite hadnât quite manifested, despite the amazing-smelling food before you. Luckily, Din didnât call you on it, and when you said you were finished, he took the tray and left. At the door stood the woman who had captured you. You found yourself struck with fear, the memory of her gun pointed toward you and the sharp jut of her shoulder in your gut playing on repeat.
She nodded her head to the left, encouraging you to follow before the door swung closed.
She wore the same style of tight, high-waisted pants she had on the day before, but instead of the long angular coat, she wore a black button-down with the sleeves rolled and a pair of chunky black boots. Her hair remained in the tight, corded braid youâd last seen her with, though this time with two slim locks of dark hair in front of her face.
Fuck, why did she have to be so beautiful?
She led you to the oak-doored office you and Din had met Cobb at yesterday, but instead of being turned away, she led you inside.
The office was symmetrical and done in a very fine multitonal dark brown and black scheme, deep wood stains and geometric patterns lining the walls all the way to the wide windows, floor-to-ceiling like the rest of the place. The brightness of the morning over the ocean water made you wince, so used to being inside or in the dark. As a result, it took you a moment to make out the edges of the figure standing before the windows, hands clasped behind his back and cutting a fine silhouette against the daybreak.
âSit,â the woman said, pointing you to the singular chair before a large desk made of some kind of pitch-black wood you couldnât recognize. So much of the luxury in this place was lost on you. Until a few months ago, you thought plywood just grew like that.
Things stayed quiet in the room for several long minutes, the sound of your breathing seemingly too loud for the tension. You felt like you did at the foster house, when the adults wanted you to fess up to doing something wrong before they lectured you about it.
There was no use trying to get ahead of what youâd done. Youâd been doing blackhat cracking and splicing for a long time by this point, self-taught and self-made after years of fighting just to live. Things were going to be different after this exploit. You were going to skim the top 0.005% off every other account on that server and you would let yourself eat two meals a day with it.
Of course, when you realized that the top 0.005% of every other account in that server would equate to eating twenty-thousand meals a day, you should have known there would be repercussions from your little smash-and-grab.
Attempted smash-and-grab. Your door had been smashed, you had been grabbed, and now you were here.
âMy cybersecurity team, as well as my investigators, cannot seem to find anything on you, black@.â The mention of your âsona made you tense up, your jaw clenching. âYou havenât paid taxes ever in your life, you have no civic licenses, youâve never held a job, even your apartment has been sublet so many times no prosecutor would ever turn an eye on it. I am very used to making people disappear, but it seems like you yourself,â the man turned as he spoke. âNever existed.â
He was not a tall man, compared to Din, but he still was a big man in that he took up space in the room. He dominated your entire field of vision like thick snow over a windscreen, and his eyes, piercing brown-almost-black, spoke winter winds into your composure. This was a scary man, you knew. He was dangerous and he had assets and probably dealt in all manner of terrifying things andâ
Oh fuck was he attractive.
âFosters slip through the cracks all the time.â You winced openly as your mouth took a running start ahead of your mind. You heard a scoff from the back corner where the woman sat.
âA fact Iâm well aware of,â the man said, turning fully to face you now. His suit was a dark charcoal gray, with a green-and-red pocket square and gold cufflinks glinting at you when he planted his hands on the table. âAnd one my enemies are beginning to learn. Who hired you, then? The Hutts? The Pykes? Youâre not corporate enough to be a New Republican splicer.â
You made a face. Youâd interacted with a few New Reps on the web, they were squares from the first keystroke.
âDefinitely not CPD,â the man said, deciphering something in your distaste. You felt your face flush at the attention he gave your feelings, his eyes thawing with amusement as he looked you over.
âHutts and Pykes pay their lackeys. She wasnât on a payroll,â the woman said from the back.
âIâm not working for anyone, I just needed some grocery moneyââ
âAnd you thought youâd steal from me?â The manâs voice hadnât raised, but the projection echoed off the fine furniture and floors as if heâd shouted it.
You certainly flinched like he had.
âI didnât know y-you were uh, I was gonna change the scrape when I saw it, I didnât want toââ
âYou opened up a hole in my security so large I could walk a bantha through it blind,â he said.
âI donât know what a bantha is.â
âYouâwhat.â
âItâs a metaphor.â
âI know itâs a metaphorââ
âQuit being facetious, girl.â The man rounded the desk and crossed his arms over his thick chest. âWhat are we doing to do with you?â
Your heart hammered its way up into your throat, and tears filled your waterline, anxiety spiraling away from you at the open threat. You wanted to shake your head, plead for any scrap of mercy, but you could hardly see straight.
âLet her fix it.â
The womanâs voice broke through your psyche like sheâd broken down your door (again), stunning you enough to turn in your seat to look at her.
âWhat do you mean, Fennec?â The man said.
âI mean, let her fix the security. She broke it, she bought in. Iâm sure sheâll be able to find other vulnerabilities while sheâs in there. If she doesnât do it, or finds a way to betray us, we can take care of her the usual way. We arenât known to waste a good set of skills, Boba.â
Their names glided over your head like water over river stones. You turned to look at the man again, eyes wide as he took in the proposition. He looked you over, assessing you with a frown that belied more consideration than heâd expected to have to give.
âWould you do it?â He asked you.
âYes, sir,â you breathed instantly. âI would.â
Something jumped in his expression, something warmer than the ice in his eyes, as if impacting glaciers could produce a spark.Â
Does anyone know that post about short wave diy computers? The post was about how if the internet we are using right now is shut down, then many of us are screwed because we've become dependent on information and communication this way and how to circumvent that.
The post talked about how to make a computer that ran on a short wave system of communications that connected to others in your area who had the same system and how to make a computer that was connected to it. Although it didn't connect globally, locally is better than nothing, you know?
That computer's internet wouldn't shut down if the main grid internet did and the computers could be hooked up to bicycle batteries and stuff like that.
Does anyone else at least remember the post? I think it was called mesh network?