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Rob Meijer
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Power-lifting amateur, nutritional hacker,food blogger, software-engineer, computer forensics student, information-security evangelist, Sci-Fi author and public speaker with an ENFP personality.
Power-lifting amateur, nutritional hacker,food blogger, software-engineer, computer forensics student, information-security evangelist, Sci-Fi author and public speaker with an ENFP personality.

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Finishing up journal restore-point feature for MattockFS forensic file-system. Two more items to do (incore based opportunistic hashing and building deb files for Ubuntu) before I'll start on my DFRWS EU workshop. 

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Sandstorm for Work is now free of charge and Blackrock -- the scale-out tech behind Oasis -- is now open source.

https://sandstorm.io/news/2017-02-06-sandstorm-returning-to-community-roots

The project is transitioning to being a classic community-driven open source project, and -- for now, at least -- shedding our business aims, as they haven't succeeded. We are, however, committed to keep working on it, and we'd love your help -- check out the new contributing guide outlining high-value projects.

https://github.com/sandstorm-io/sandstorm/blob/master/CONTRIBUTING.md

A new draft chapter for "Ragnarok Conspiracy". Adding this one to my Infosec G+ collection as it is basically about a 2040s world where the #cryptopocalypse happened as early as the 1990s. So while I don't normally mix my speculative fiction and infosec streams, in this case the two are getting really close so my speculative fiction might be fun to read for infosec ppl who normaly would not be interested that much. In any case, if you like this chapter and would like to read more: I'm definetely looking for beta readers so drop me a line.
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-Isle of Pines, Pacific Ocean, September 15 2047


Wietse’s hands were shaking as he operated his ancient cellphone, or rather what had once been a cellphone a very very long time ago. The ancient device dated back all the way to the late 2010s and Wietse and it had a long history together. Wietse had managed to acquire the device through the fortunate recklessness of one of his guards who had accidentally dropped it while using Wietse’s private lavatory; a toilet visit that was the fortunate and unplanned side effect of Wietse’s adopted habit of playing pranks on his guards in order to give himself something of a comforting notion that there were still some parts of his life that his captors did not control. The cellphone had long lost its original purpose. The old telecommunication networks had long been dismantled and even before they were, Wietse’s luxury private prison had been located in a part of the Pacific that had been off-grid to the extent that the telecommunication functionality of the cellphone was about as useful in the 2010s and 2020s as it would have been in the 1810s and 1820s. It felt strange to be back in the Pacific region even if the Isle of Pines had been a long way away from the Pacific island where Wietse had spent so many decades as a prisoner of one of the most ruthless organisation humanity has ever seen. An organisation that he knew his work had had a big hand in shaping. Here though was a strategic location at the moment at the outer border of the former New Ottoman Free Trade Alliance or NOFTA just a few hundred kilometers away from the territory still controlled by governments with strong ties to his captors, the former Pacific Union for Patents & Royalties or PUPR for short, referred to though by the rest of the world as “The Quants”.
Wietse had spent decades extending and enhancing the device to the best of his abilities within the constraints of his incarceration. The Quants had had zero respect for privacy, and between his guards and the camera systems there had been little room for Wietse to work in secret on his device while all along plotting his escape. Today the old cellphone had become a hideously ugly contraption, looking even more ancient than its age alone allowed for. A thick half transparent green foil helt together the pieces of the cracked screen and gave the device its faint green glow when observed from a less than almost completely straight angle. The foiled up green screen was all that remained visible from the original device that as a whole most resembled a brick wrapped in duct tape. Below the screen was a small duct-tape-less area exposing a tiny piece of green PCB board containing a tiny pin-operated reset-style button and a small array of dip switches that together had been Wietse’s only method of data input from the moment the screen had stopped acting as the touch sensitive input that it had originally been designed to be, up until a few days after his escape, when he had managed to integrate some slightly more modern input technology.
Noone could possibly guess the tech wietse had created here held the power it did. No one but Wietse even knew even to consider that this technology could even be theoretically possible. Not even the Quants.
“The Quants”, it was a horrific injustice that his captors were commonly referred to as Quants. They had stolen half a century from him. Half a century all because of quantum entanglement. Quantum entanglement was supposed to make the world a better place. Instead these Quants had taken Wietse away from all he loved. His wife, his young son and his lab. A lab where Wietse had been pioneering quantum computing as far back as the early 1990s. These Quants had forced him to participate in the total corruption of his life's work. Quantum slicing had been all that they had cared about. Slicing effortlessly and in real-time through through even the strongest encryption. Quantum entanglement was so much more than just a powerful tool for industrial espionage. So much more than the tool for world domination that his captors had recognized it to be. As far as PUPR was concerned wietse had escaped with a high-tech reset button. A very important reset button, yes, but just a reset button. Wietse knew PUPR wanted their reset button back and now apparently New-Zion spies had lived up to their almost mythical reputation. New Zion had done what PUPR so far had not managed. Despite of Wietse’s careful efforts to be untraceable, to remain off the grid, New Zion had tracked him down and apparently was after the reset button as well; or after him and his knowledge. They would have captured him if it wasn’t for ……
Wietse took hold of his left hand with his right to stop the shaking. The worn down screen cracked of the taped up ancient phone showing a picture of a young boy, or rather a picture of an old wallet holding a small picture of a young boy. Dear Henkie. Henk should be an old man now himself. Every day since his guards had started mocking him with tabloid photos of his wife remarrying, only thoughts about his son had remained to torment him and making his captivity close to unbearable for many many long years. As far as the world had been concerned. As far as his wife and son were concerned also, Wietse had died in a lab explosion. Inge had moved on and Wietse could not blame her for that. Yes it had been a hard pill to swallow at first that she had moved on to marry some pompous high profile baron. An event that had made the local tabloids. The guards had found it horribly funny that Wietse’s “widow” had maried a Baron and in their twisted sense of humor, they had found it funny to confront Wietse with his pubic death by leaving copies of these tabloids in any place that wietse used to frequent. Yes, Inge had moved on, and who could blame her for that? His dead had been staged so flawlessly by his captors. It had not been easy, no, but wietse had been over Inge for decades now.


“My little champion” wietse murmered as he lied down his device and stared at the holographic projection of the face of a woman. There was no doubt left in Wietse at this point. The resemblance was to bigb to attribute to chance. “Godverdomme Wietse, je bent opa!” Wietse exclaimed in his native Dutch tongue realizing this grown woman was in fact his granddaughter. Than an indescribable anger started forming within him. His granddaughter kidnapped, abducted ! After half a century of captivity Wietse wasn’t going to allow that to happen to his little champion’s daughter. Not with the full power of the quantum trinity at his disposal.
Whoever it were who had kidnapped his granddaughter; abducted her in this eight legged air vehicle, they were about to feel Wietse’s wrath. Feel the wrath of an angry grandfather wielding the full and unattenuated power of the quantum trinity. With the New-Zion operative Wietse had been acting tough, acting that he was tough and hard. Wietse had been acting that he was confident when in fact he had been startled by the unintended accident that had snapped off the operative’s leg. But now he knew, now he fully understood the weaponization potential of his quantum trinity. This understanding combined with the realization his granddaughter had now been abducted came together in a massive change of mindset. Wietse had been the mouse for the last few years since he had escaped PUPR. Trying to avoid the cat from devouring him. Now no longer the mouse, Wietse’s transformation of mind was almost terrifying as Wietse realized he wasn’t afraid anymore to release the full power of the trinity. Not if it meant stopping his granddaughter from suffering his own faith. No longer the mouse. Not even the cat. With the technology Wiete knew was at his fingertips. Technology many centuries ahead of anything any of the earth fractions or Mars-One could throw at him. No cat would be a match for Wietse at this point. Not with the power of gods at his fingertips.

A new draft chapter for "Ragnarok Conspiracy".

-Isle of Pines, Pacific Ocean, September 15 2047


Wietse’s hands were shaking as he operated his ancient cellphone, or rather what had once been a cellphone a very very long time ago. The ancient device dated back all the way to the late 2010s and Wietse and it had a long history together. Wietse had managed to acquire the device through the fortunate recklessness of one of his guards who had accidentally dropped it while using Wietse’s private lavatory; a toilet visit that was the fortunate and unplanned side effect of Wietse’s adopted habit of playing pranks on his guards in order to give himself something of a comforting notion that there were still some parts of his life that his captors did not control. The cellphone had long lost its original purpose. The old telecommunication networks had long been dismantled and even before they were, Wietse’s luxury private prison had been located in a part of the Pacific that had been off-grid to the extent that the telecommunication functionality of the cellphone was about as useful in the 2010s and 2020s as it would have been in the 1810s and 1820s. It felt strange to be back in the Pacific region even if the Isle of Pines had been a long way away from the Pacific island where Wietse had spent so many decades as a prisoner of one of the most ruthless organisation humanity has ever seen. An organisation that he knew his work had had a big hand in shaping. Here though was a strategic location at the moment at the outer border of the former New Ottoman Free Trade Alliance or NOFTA just a few hundred kilometers away from the territory still controlled by governments with strong ties to his captors, the former Pacific Union for Patents & Royalties or PUPR for short, referred to though by the rest of the world as “The Quants”.
Wietse had spent decades extending and enhancing the device to the best of his abilities within the constraints of his incarceration. The Quants had had zero respect for privacy, and between his guards and the camera systems there had been little room for Wietse to work in secret on his device while all along plotting his escape. Today the old cellphone had become a hideously ugly contraption, looking even more ancient than its age alone allowed for. A thick half transparent green foil helt together the pieces of the cracked screen and gave the device its faint green glow when observed from a less than almost completely straight angle. The foiled up green screen was all that remained visible from the original device that as a whole most resembled a brick wrapped in duct tape. Below the screen was a small duct-tape-less area exposing a tiny piece of green PCB board containing a tiny pin-operated reset-style button and a small array of dip switches that together had been Wietse’s only method of data input from the moment the screen had stopped acting as the touch sensitive input that it had originally been designed to be, up until a few days after his escape, when he had managed to integrate some slightly more modern input technology.
Noone could possibly guess the tech wietse had created here held the power it did. No one but Wietse even knew even to consider that this technology could even be theoretically possible. Not even the Quants.
“The Quants”, it was a horrific injustice that his captors were commonly referred to as Quants. They had stolen half a century from him. Half a century all because of quantum entanglement. Quantum entanglement was supposed to make the world a better place. Instead these Quants had taken Wietse away from all he loved. His wife, his young son and his lab. A lab where Wietse had been pioneering quantum computing as far back as the early 1990s. These Quants had forced him to participate in the total corruption of his life's work. Quantum slicing had been all that they had cared about. Slicing effortlessly and in real-time through through even the strongest encryption. Quantum entanglement was so much more than just a powerful tool for industrial espionage. So much more than the tool for world domination that his captors had recognized it to be. As far as PUPR was concerned wietse had escaped with a high-tech reset button. A very important reset button, yes, but just a reset button. Wietse knew PUPR wanted their reset button back and now apparently New-Zion spies had lived up to their almost mythical reputation. New Zion had done what PUPR so far had not managed. Despite of Wietse’s careful efforts to be untraceable, to remain off the grid, New Zion had tracked him down and apparently was after the reset button as well; or after him and his knowledge. They would have captured him if it wasn’t for ……
Wietse took hold of his left hand with his right to stop the shaking. The worn down screen cracked of the taped up ancient phone showing a picture of a young boy, or rather a picture of an old wallet holding a small picture of a young boy. Dear Henkie. Henk should be an old man now himself. Every day since his guards had started mocking him with tabloid photos of his wife remarrying, only thoughts about his son had remained to torment him and making his captivity close to unbearable for many many long years. As far as the world had been concerned. As far as his wife and son were concerned also, Wietse had died in a lab explosion. Inge had moved on and Wietse could not blame her for that. Yes it had been a hard pill to swallow at first that she had moved on to marry some pompous high profile baron. An event that had made the local tabloids. The guards had found it horribly funny that Wietse’s “widow” had maried a Baron and in their twisted sense of humor, they had found it funny to confront Wietse with his pubic death by leaving copies of these tabloids in any place that wietse used to frequent. Yes, Inge had moved on, and who could blame her for that? His dead had been staged so flawlessly by his captors. It had not been easy, no, but wietse had been over Inge for decades now.


“My little champion” wietse murmered as he lied down his device and stared at the holographic projection of the face of a woman. There was no doubt left in Wietse at this point. The resemblance was to bigb to attribute to chance. “Godverdomme Wietse, je bent opa!” Wietse exclaimed in his native Dutch tongue realizing this grown woman was in fact his granddaughter. Than an indescribable anger started forming within him. His granddaughter kidnapped, abducted ! After half a century of captivity Wietse wasn’t going to allow that to happen to his little champion’s daughter. Not with the full power of the quantum trinity at his disposal.
Whoever it were who had kidnapped his granddaughter; abducted her in this eight legged air vehicle, they were about to feel Wietse’s wrath. Feel the wrath of an angry grandfather wielding the full and unattenuated power of the quantum trinity. With the New-Zion operative Wietse had been acting tough, acting that he was tough and hard. Wietse had been acting that he was confident when in fact he had been startled by the unintended accident that had snapped off the operative’s leg. But now he knew, now he fully understood the weaponization potential of his quantum trinity. This understanding combined with the realization his granddaughter had now been abducted came together in a massive change of mindset. Wietse had been the mouse for the last few years since he had escaped PUPR. Trying to avoid the cat from devouring him. Now no longer the mouse, Wietse’s transformation of mind was almost terrifying as Wietse realized he wasn’t afraid anymore to release the full power of the trinity. Not if it meant stopping his granddaughter from suffering his own faith. No longer the mouse. Not even the cat. With the technology Wiete knew was at his fingertips. Technology many centuries ahead of anything any of the earth fractions or Mars-One could throw at him. No cat would be a match for Wietse at this point. Not with the power of gods at his fingertips.

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The best thing about a morning workout: pre workout breakfast😎
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Passwords are still just as annoying with ZeroVault, I think keeping track over my 100+ site passwords from multiple machines is quite a bit more manageable now.

https://password.capibara.com/

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"Trust me, I'm a Bank. Look I have a pen!"
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