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The Internet of Things is now a phrase you see on product boxes, in boardroom slide decks, and across thesis titles in engineering departments everywhere. But it has a surprisingly precise origin. The term was coined in 1999 by a British technologist named Kevin Ashton, and it was not born in a research lab or an academic paper. It started its life as the title of a corporate sales presentation. A slide deck, not a laboratory In the late 1990s Ashton was a brand manager at Procter & Gamble, the consumer goods giant behind products you would find on any supermarket shelf. He was wrestling with a mundane but expensive problem: store shelves kept running out of a particular shade of lipstick, even though the warehouse had plenty in stock. The supply chain simply had no reliable way to know, in real time, what was where. Ashton's proposed fix was radio-frequency identification, or RFID: tiny tags that could be attached to products and read automatically by sensors, with no human scanning each item by hand. The vision was that physical objects could report their own location and status, feeding that data up into computer systems without anyone typing it in. To sell this idea to executives, he needed a title that would make supply-chain tagging sound as exciting as the technology dominating headlines at the time. So he linked his RFID proposal to the hottest topic of 1999 and called the presentation "Internet of Things." By his own account, years later in RFID Journal, the choice was deliberate. Tying tags and sensors to the red-hot word "internet" was the surest way to get senior people in the room to pay attention. The pitch worked well enough that the phrase stuck, and Ashton went on to help found the Auto-ID Center at MIT, a research group that did much of the early standards work that made networked RFID practical. Why the name was actually a good description It would be easy to dismiss the term as a marketing flourish, but it captured something real. Ashton's point

Rethinking fake content in Symfony projects A prototype web page displaying pure placeholder content When building early UI prototypes or shaping design systems in Symfony, placeholder content becomes a constant companion. Lorem ipsum text. Dummy profile photos. Placeholder videos. Silent audio. Temporary avatars. Realistic fake user data. Every project needs them — and yet most setups rely on a patchwork of libraries, links and hardcoded values. Omnia Ipsum aims to fix that by giving Symfony developers a single, elegant toolkit for placeholder content of all kinds. In this article, I will walk you through the motivation behind the project, the conceptual patterns it follows, and its most advanced features — all designed to make your prototyping workflow faster, cleaner and more maintainable. Motivation: Why a placeholder library? Most Symfony projects start the same way: You add lorem ipsum text manually into Twig templates. You grab placeholder images from an external service. You generate avatars using yet another site. You paste in temporary YouTube or stock video URLs. You install Faker separately whenever realistic data is needed. The result is inconsistent, fragmented and difficult to maintain. And even worse: placeholder content often leaks into production unless guarded carefully. The idea behind Omnia Ipsum was simple: “If your UI needs placeholder content, it should come from one place — predictable, configurable, and accessible directly from Twig.” This cuts down on boilerplate, cognitive overhead, and the "temporary chaos" of early-stage templates. Quick Start Prerequisite Go to github.com/symfinity/recipes and follow the instructions to add the required recipe repository. Installation composer require --dev symfinity/omnia-ipsum Usage Use the Twig functions immediately: <img src= " {{ omnia_image ( 600 , 400 ) }} " alt= "Placeholder" > <img src= " {{ omnia_avatar ( 'John Doe' , 100 ) }} " alt= "Avatar" > <video src= " {{ omnia_video ( 1920 , 1080 ) }}

The Problem Typography should be one of the simplest parts of a project. In reality, it often ends up scattered across multiple layers: Bootstrap: $font-family-base variables Tailwind: JavaScript configuration TypeScript: type definitions Design systems: W3C Design Tokens The same font information gets copied and maintained in several places. Every update means touching multiple files, hoping everything stays in sync. It's repetitive, error-prone, and easy to get wrong. So I built Font Manager. Define your fonts once and export them in whatever format your project needs — CSS, Bootstrap variables, Tailwind configuration, TypeScript definitions, design tokens, and more. The Solution A simple Twig function: {{ font_manager ( 'Ubuntu' , '400 700' ) }} Configuration: symfinity_font_manager : export : formats : - scss_bootstrap - tailwind_config - typescript_definitions One lock command: php bin/console fonts:lock Every format, automatically generated. Perfectly synced. Bootstrap Example Before: // Manually copy font name $font-family-base : 'Ubuntu' , sans-serif ; // ❌ Duplication @import 'bootstrap/scss/bootstrap' ; After: symfinity_font_manager : export : formats : [ scss_bootstrap ] php bin/console fonts:lock // app.scss @import './assets/styles/fonts-bootstrap' ; // ← Auto-generated @import 'bootstrap/scss/bootstrap' ; Bootstrap uses your fonts automatically. No manual mapping. No duplication. Tailwind Example symfinity_font_manager : export : formats : [ tailwind_config ] // tailwind.config.js const fonts = require ( ' ./assets/fonts-tailwind.config.js ' ); // ← Auto-generated module . exports = { theme : { extend : { fontFamily : fonts . fontFamily } } }; <p class= "font-sans" > Your custom font, via Tailwind. </p> TypeScript Example symfinity_font_manager : export : formats : [ typescript_definitions ] import { fonts , type FontFamily } from ' ./assets/fonts ' ; applyFont ( element , ' sans ' ); // ✓ Valid applyFont ( element , ' invalid ' ); // ✗ TypeScript erro

Math.random() returns a number between 0 and 1, and roughly nobody reading this could explain what happens between the call and the return. That is fine, fine right up until the output decides who gets money, and then it becomes one of the genuinely hard problems in applied software, the kind that regulated industries build entire testing labs around. Start with the thing most people get wrong: a sequence that passes for random and a fair sequence are different claims, and your users cannot tell them apart by staring at outputs. The users will never catch the difference and that is the whole problem in one sentence. This is why fairness in any real-money system, an online casino being the sharpest example, is a verification problem long before it is a math problem. Pseudorandom generators are deterministic. A PRNG eats a seed, runs it through fixed arithmetic, and spits out numbers that sail through statistical randomness tests while being completely predetermined by that seed. Mersenne Twister is the poster child: excellent distribution, used everywhere by default for years, and from a few hundred observed outputs you can reconstruct its internal state and predict the rest. For a Monte Carlo simulation, who cares! For anything where a human has a financial reason to guess your next number, you just shipped a vulnerability and called it a feature. What you want when stakes exist is a CSPRNG. The guarantee that matters: even with a long history of outputs, an attacker cannot compute the next one or recover the internal state. crypto.randomBytes() in Node. crypto.getRandomValues() in the browser. They sit one autocomplete away from the unsafe option and offer wildly different guarantees, which is exactly why this bug ships so often. The safe call and the dangerous call look like fraternal twins. ** The part players actually rely on ** Say you build it correctly: a proper CSPRNG, real entropy, no timestamp nonsense. You know it is fair but now prove it to a stranger wh

Technology companies are extending AI beyond code generation into earlier stages of the software lifecycle, including PRD validation, design inputs, and code review. Initiatives from Uber, DoorDash, and Cloudflare highlight a shift toward AI-driven governance layers that evaluate engineering artifacts before implementation while preserving human oversight across the development pipeline. By Leela Kumili

AI has made it easier to produce working software. That part is real. It can write code, draft documents, research a topic, scaffold a prototype, and debug a problem faster than most teams can finish writing a decent ticket. But faster building doesn't automatically mean better product decisions. That's the part I keep coming back to. For decades, software teams optimized around delivery. Requirements, design, development, QA, release. Waterfall softened into Agile. Agile grew into DevOps. The practices changed, but the assumption underneath stayed pretty stable: building software is expensive, so plan carefully before you start. That made sense because, for a long time, it was true. Now that assumption is breaking. AI is doing to software what calculators did to accounting. It isn't eliminating the job. It's moving the job up a level. The syntax, boilerplate, first draft, and some of the debugging are getting offloaded. The work doesn't disappear. The bottleneck moves. Learning is still expensive Here's what didn't get cheaper: understanding what people actually need getting stakeholders aligned deciding what evidence would change your mind putting something real in front of users reading the signal without fooling yourself The old question was: Can we build it fast enough? The new question is: Do we understand the problem well enough? That sounds like a small shift, but it changes the work. It changes what strong engineers spend time on. It changes what product people need from engineering. It changes how teams should define "done." If the code ships but nobody learns anything, did the team actually move forward? Sometimes yes. Often no. Users don't know until they can touch it People are not great at specifying requirements up front. Not because they're difficult. Because they're human. Most of us don't know how we feel about something until we can react to a version of it. A mockup. A prototype. A rough slice. A real workflow with sharp edges. So the fastest pat

At least one malware developer is adding text about nuclear and biological weapons to their spyware, in an effort to stop automatic AI analysis. Details : The _index.js payload begins with a large JavaScript block comment containing fake system instructions and policy-triggering content. Because it is inside a comment, it does not affect JavaScript execution. The runtime skips it. The real malware begins after the comment with a try{eval(…)} wrapper around a large character-code array and a ROT-style substitution function. This header appears designed for AI-mediated analysis, not for Node, Bun, or Python. It attempts to derail scanners or analyst copilots that feed the beginning of a file to a language model without clearly isolating the content as untrusted data. In weak pipelines, this can cause refusal behavior, prompt confusion, context pollution, or premature classification before the scanner reaches the actual malware...

Most "Shopware vs Shopify" posts compare dashboards, app stores, and pricing tables. None of that matters to you until the day a client asks for something the platform won't let you build. Then the comparison stops being a feature grid and becomes a question about ceilings: how high can I go before the platform says no, and what happens when I hit it? That's the only axis I care about as a developer, so that's the one I'll argue on. Shopify is an outstanding product. It's also a closed SaaS that decides, on your behalf, where customization ends. Shopware is open source built on Symfony, which means the ceiling is "however far PHP and HTTP will take you." Below are the three places that difference actually bites, with code. Angle 1: The checkout is the wall This is the headline because it's where most agency developers first hit something they cannot do. For years the Shopify answer to "customize the checkout" was checkout.liquid . That era is over. Shopify deprecated checkout.liquid in favour of Checkout Extensibility . Plus stores had to migrate their Thank-you and Order-status pages by August 28, 2025 , and in January 2026 Shopify began auto-upgrading stores — wiping customizations built on additional scripts, script-tag apps, or checkout.liquid . Non-Plus stores have until August 26, 2026 , and legacy Shopify Scripts keep working only until June 30, 2026 . ( Shopify migration timeline ) The replacement, Checkout Extensibility, is genuinely more upgrade-safe. It's also a smaller box. You get Checkout UI Extensions (declarative components that render in slots Shopify defines) and Shopify Functions for backend logic — and that's the surface. You don't own the checkout template; you decorate the pieces Shopify exposes. Worth noting: full visual checkout customization (branding API, custom fields beyond the defaults, full UI extension power) is gated to Shopify Plus anyway. On Shopware, the checkout is a Twig template like every other page, and you override it the sam

Almost everything that makes the modern world hum, from the phone in your pocket to the sensor on a factory floor, traces back to a single quiet afternoon in a nearly empty laboratory in Dallas. In the summer of 1958, a newly hired engineer named Jack Kilby built the first working integrated circuit at Texas Instruments. It was a crude little thing, a sliver of germanium with a few components and some fine gold wires, but it carried an idea that would reshape electronics: that an entire circuit could be made from one piece of semiconductor material. Every microcontroller and connected device we build today is a descendant of that prototype. The engineer who was left behind Kilby had only just joined Texas Instruments and had not yet earned any vacation time. So when the company shut down for its traditional summer break in July 1958 and most of his colleagues left, he found himself nearly alone in the lab with time to think. The problem on his mind was one the whole industry called the "tyranny of numbers." Circuits were getting more capable, which meant more transistors, resistors, and capacitors, each one a separate part that had to be wired together by hand. Every added component meant more connections, more soldering, and more chances for something to fail. The complexity was becoming a wall. Kilby's insight was disarmingly simple. If resistors and capacitors could be made from the same semiconductor material as transistors, then every part of a circuit could be fabricated together in a single block. No separate components, no forest of hand-soldered wires. He sketched the idea, and when his managers returned he had something to show them. September 12, 1958 On September 12, 1958, Kilby demonstrated his prototype to Texas Instruments executives. The device was a phase-shift oscillator built on a bar of germanium, with its elements connected by delicate gold "flying wires." He connected it to an oscilloscope, flipped the switch, and a steady sine wave rolled acro

Two men pleaded guilty in the United Kingdom this week to criminal charges stemming from an August 2024 cyberattack that crippled Transport for London, the entity responsible for the public transport network in the Greater London area. The duo were key members of a prolific cybercrime group known as Scattered Spider, and their guilty pleas came on the first day of what was expected to be a six-week trial.

Disclosure: This post includes affiliate links; I may receive compensation if you purchase products or services from the different links provided in this article. Hello friends, System design ** and ** Software design are two important topics for tech interviews and two important skills for Software developers. Without knowing how to design a system, you cannot create new software, and it will also be difficult to learn and understand existing software and systems. That's why big tech companies like FAANG/MAANG pay special attention to System design skills and test candidates thoroughly. Earlier, I have shared system design interview questions like API Gateway vs Load Balancer , Horizontal vs Vertical Scaling , Forward proxy vs reverse proxy , and common System design concepts , and in this article, I am going to share with you the best System design books to learn Software design. Whether you are a beginner or an experienced developer, you can read these books, as you will definitely find valuable stuff. I have read them, and even though I have been doing Software development for more than 15 years, I have learned a lot. System design ** is a complex process, and you need to know a lot of stuff to actually design a system that can withstand the test of time in production. Software architecture is another field where you are expected to learn a lot of things. It's simply impossible to become a software architect by reading a few books, but if you have experience and a hunger to learn, then these books can be a gold mine. These books allow you to learn from other people's experiences. You can read these books to find what challenges they face when they design a real-world system like Spotify, Google, or Amazon, and how they overcome. Each story is a journey in itself, and you will learn a thing or two by reading and then relating with your own experience. I love to read books, and they are my primary source of learning, along with online courses nowadays. In this art

Why AdGuard Home Overtook Pi-hole Last month, while attempting to add ad filtering to the internal network of a production ERP system, the Pi-hole configuration escalated to 85% CPU usage within an hour, causing DNS responses to lag. AdGuard Home resolved the same scenario with 3% CPU and an average latency of 15 ms , which is why it has dethroned Pi-hole. In the following sections, I detail the architecture, performance, security features, and my real-world deployment experience with both products. While they may seem similar at first glance, the fundamental differences directly impact network stability and management overhead. How AdGuard Home Works AdGuard Home is designed as a fully modular DNS forwarder that supports DNS‑over‑HTTPS (DoH) and DNS‑over‑TLS (DoT). Clients first send queries over 53 UDP/TCP or 443 DoH; AdGuard caches the query, checks it against local blacklists, and then forwards it to an upstream DNS service based on preference. # /etc/AdGuardHome.yaml (partial) bind_host : 0.0.0.0 bind_port : 53 upstream_dns : - https://1.1.1.1/dns-query - https://9.9.9.9/dns-query blocking_mode : default blocked_response_ttl : 300 $ dig @127.0.0.1 example.com +short 93.184.216.34 $ curl -s -H "Accept: application/dns-json" "https://adguard.example/dns-query?name=ads.google.com&type=A" | jq . { "Status" : 0, "Answer" : [] , "Question" : [ { "name" : "ads.google.com." , "type" : 1 } ] } Why is it so fast? Cache-first strategy : The initial query goes to an upstream DNS, but subsequent identical domains are returned directly from RAM cache. Parallel upstreams : Since multiple DoH endpoints are tried concurrently, the primary response time drops to an average of 15 ms. Advanced blocklist engine : Thanks to a combination of regex-based filtering and Bloom filters, thousands of ad domains are eliminated in a single query. This architecture, when running as a systemd-based service, shows only 12 ms CPU consumption in systemd-analyze blame output; Pi-hole showed 150 ms

HaloBraid aims to help salons speed up braiding with its first device, slated to launch later this year, that acts as a braiding assistant for professional stylists.

The smart glasses are available in several countries starting today in a variety of color and lens combinations.

AI wrote the first 80% of my feature in 10 minutes. The code was clean. The logic made sense. The...

OpenAI is attempting to tackle the security issues of the open source software community.

Good architecture is not only about how a system is built. It is also about how well the team can understand that system once it is running. That is where observability belongs in the architecture conversation. It is common for observability to be treated as something that comes after the main engineering work. The service gets built. The API works. The deployment succeeds. Then, somewhere near the end, the team starts thinking about logs, dashboards, alerts, and operational visibility. That approach creates a gap. The architecture may look clean on paper, but once the system is in production, the team has to understand how it behaves under real conditions. Real users do not follow the happy path perfectly. Dependencies slow down. Queues back up. Data arrives in unexpected shapes. Deployments change behavior in ways that are not always obvious. If the system does not give the team a way to see those things clearly, the architecture is incomplete. Observability is not decoration around the system. It is part of the system design. Architecture Describes the System. Observability Shows the Truth. Architecture is built on assumptions. During design, teams make reasonable guesses about usage patterns, service boundaries, dependency behavior, data flow, scale, latency, and failure modes. Some of those assumptions are based on experience. Some are based on current requirements. Some are simply the best call the team can make with the information available at the time. That is normal. The problem is not that architecture contains assumptions. Every architecture does. The problem is when those assumptions cannot be tested once the system is real. A design might assume that an external dependency will be reliable enough. Production may show that it is the slowest part of the request path. A queue might look like a clean decoupling point during design. Production may reveal retry behavior, duplication, or ordering concerns that were not obvious upfront. A serverless function m

The first text message ever sent was not a love note, a meeting reminder, or a meme. It was a Christmas greeting. On December 3, 1992, a 22-year-old engineer named Neil Papworth sat at a desktop computer, typed two words, and sent the world's first SMS to a mobile phone: "Merry Christmas." More than thirty years later, that humble two-word message has grown into one of the most quietly important protocols in connected technology, and it still shows up in the IoT devices we build today. The engineer who sent the first SMS Neil Papworth was working for the Anglo-French firm Sema Group Telecoms, part of a team building a Short Message Service Centre (SMSC) for the British carrier Vodafone. The SMSC was the piece of infrastructure that would store and forward text messages across the cellular network. To prove it worked, Papworth sent a test message from a computer terminal to the Orbitel 901 handset of Richard Jarvis, a Vodafone director who was at a company Christmas party. The message arrived. Jarvis read it. But he could not reply, because mobile phones at the time had no way to compose a text. There was no keypad-driven messaging app, no T9, no touchscreen. SMS started life as a one-way novelty riding on a spare slice of the network's signalling channel, and almost nobody involved thought it would matter very much. Why SMS was designed the way it was The technical detail that makes this story relevant to anyone building connected hardware is how SMS was engineered. Text messages were squeezed into the control channel that phones already used to talk to cell towers, the same channel that handles things like call setup. That is why a single SMS is capped at 160 characters: it had to fit inside a small, fixed-size signalling packet. This constraint turned out to be a feature. SMS is lightweight, store-and-forward, and works even when a data connection is weak or absent. The message waits in the SMSC until the device is reachable, then gets delivered. No persistent con

What does an AI company do after one of those not-acqui-hire deals? Groq raised money, is leaning into its neocloud business, and is hiring new execs.

Everyone says our job got easier. The people doing it are quietly falling apart. Here's the part nobody at the dinner table wants to hear: AI didn't make software engineering easy. It made it relentless. Your uncle thinks you press a button now. Your PM thinks the estimate should be half what it used to be. LinkedIn thinks you're either an "AI-native 10x engineer" or a dinosaur waiting for the meteor. And somewhere in the middle of all that noise is you, doing two jobs at once and wondering when you stopped recognizing the one you signed up for. If that landed, keep reading. This one's for you. 💡 The Lie Everyone Has Agreed To Believe The story the world has settled on is simple: AI writes the code now, so the hard part is over. It's a comforting story. It's also wrong in a way that's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't sat in the chair. Yes, the blank-file problem is mostly solved. Boilerplate, scaffolding, the first rough pass at a function, all of that is faster than it's ever been. The problem is "writing the lines" was never the expensive part of this job. The expensive part was always judgment. Knowing what to build, knowing why it breaks, knowing which of the model's three confident suggestions is the one that quietly corrupts your data at 2 AM is where the engineer earns their salt. AI didn't remove that work. It buried it under a pile of plausible-looking output you now have to review, verify, and own. So the meter didn't slow down. It moved. You spend less time typing and far more time deciding, validating, and cleaning up. To everyone watching from outside, that looks like less work. From inside, it's a heavier cognitive load on a shorter clock. Sound familiar? The Treadmill Nobody Put On the Job Description The cost no one talks about is the half-life of what you know is collapsing. Five years ago you could learn a framework and ride it for a few years. Now a tool you mastered in January has three competitors and a new paradigm by June. New model, new c