I am currently developing a boot loader code.

A boot loader is a code, which will be placed in first 512 bytes of sector 0. When BIOS finishes all it’s job, it will load the first 512 byte from sector 0 and loads it into memory 0000:7c00 or 07co:0000. both these address falls into 0×07C00h memory location.

Jumping to this location can be done in two ways:

jmp 0000:7C00

jmp 07C0:0000

Hence your boot loader code should place itself into the memory location 0X07C00 and that can be done via:

[org 0x07C00]

and that’s the power of assembly

I will give a skeletion view of how a boot loader / master boot record would look like:

; ———————————————————————————————————

[bits 16]

[org 0x07C00]

mov ax, 0×0000

mov ds, ax

call printstring

JMP $ ; looping

; load a sector

mov ah, 0×02 ; service

mov al, 0×03 ; number of sectors to read

mov ch, 0×00     ; cylinder number

mov cl, 0×02 ; sector number

mov dh, 0×00 ; head number

mov dl, 0×00 ; drive number

int 0×13

jc reset

JMP 0×1000:0000 ; jump to memory location 0×10000

; assuming stage2 or kernel will be loaded in 0×10000

TIMES 510 – ($ – $$) db 0

DW 0xAA55

; ———————————————————————————————————

What is AA55 ?

but how will BIOS knows that first 512 bytes in a disk is a boot loader code or not ? because not all disks should have boot loaders. Imagine the old DOS days. You will use only one floppy to load MS DOS and use other disks to store programs like dBASE, WordStar; etc. Hence not necessary that these disks should contain a boot sector code. Also remember you get a message “INVALID BOOT DISKETTE or DISK BOOT FAILURE”. So, How does BIOS recognizes it?

Actually the boot loader code is only 510 bytes. The rest 2 bytes are used to identify whether it’s boot loader or not. That is called as Boot Magic or Boot Signature and it is AA55. if you load the first 512 bytes of a boot sector in hex editor you will notice the AA55 in last two sectors.

for example, see the HEX view of FreeBSD’s boot code below:

See the last two words, which is “55 aa”. 00000200 is equivalent to 512 in decimal !

the above code I have written, will load kernel or a stage2 loader from a floppy.

now got it how a boot sector virus can work

One Infinite Loop, Apple’s street address, is a programming in-joke — it refers to a routine that never ends. But it is also an apt description of the travails of parking at the Cupertino, California, campus. Like most things in Silicon Valley, Apple’s lots are egalitarian; there are no reserved spots for managers or higher-ups. Even if you’re a Porsche-driving senior executive, if you arrive after 10 am, you should be prepared to circle the lot endlessly, hunting for a space.

But there is one Mercedes that doesn’t need to search for very long, and it belongs to Steve Jobs. If there’s no easy-to-find spot and he’s in a hurry, Jobs has been known to pull up to Apple’s front entrance and park in a handicapped space. (Sometimes he takes up two spaces.) It’s become a piece of Apple lore — and a running gag at the company. Employees have stuck notes under his windshield wiper: “Park Different.” They have also converted the minimalist wheelchair symbol on the pavement into a Mercedes logo.

Jobs’ fabled attitude toward parking reflects his approach to business: For him, the regular rules do not apply. Everybody is familiar with Google’s famous catchphrase, “Don’t be evil.” It has become a shorthand mission statement for Silicon Valley, encompassing a variety of ideals that — proponents say — are good for business and good for the world: Embrace open platforms. Trust decisions to the wisdom of crowds. Treat your employees like gods.

It’s ironic, then, that one of the Valley’s most successful companies ignored all of these tenets. Google and Apple may have a friendly relationship — Google CEO Eric Schmidt sits on Apple’s board, after all — but by Google’s definition, Apple is irredeemably evil, behaving more like an old-fashioned industrial titan than a different-thinking business of the future. Apple operates with a level of secrecy that makes Thomas Pynchon look like Paris Hilton. It locks consumers into a proprietary ecosystem. And as for treating employees like gods? Yeah, Apple doesn’t do that either.

But by deliberately flouting the Google mantra, Apple has thrived. When Jobs retook the helm in 1997, the company was struggling to survive. Today it has a market cap of $105 billion, placing it ahead of Dell and behind Intel. Its iPod commands 70 percent of the MP3 player market. Four billion songs have been purchased from iTunes. The iPhone is reshaping the entire wireless industry. Even the underdog Mac operating system has begun to nibble into Windows’ once-unassailable dominance; last year, its share of the US market topped 6 percent, more than double its portion in 2003.

It’s hard to see how any of this would have happened had Jobs hewed to the standard touchy-feely philosophies of Silicon Valley. Apple creates must-have products the old-fashioned way: by locking the doors and sweating and bleeding until something emerges perfectly formed. It’s hard to see the Mac OS and the iPhone coming out of the same design-by-committee process that produced Microsoft Vista or Dell’s Pocket DJ music player. Likewise, had Apple opened its iTunes-iPod juggernaut to outside developers, the company would have risked turning its uniquely integrated service into a hodgepodge of independent applications — kind of like the rest of the Internet, come to think of it.

And now observers, academics, and even some other companies are taking notes. Because while Apple’s tactics may seem like Industrial Revolution relics, they’ve helped the company position itself ahead of its competitors and at the forefront of the tech industry. Sometimes, evil works.

Over the past 100 years, management theory has followed a smooth trajectory, from enslavement to empowerment. The 20th century began with Taylorism — engineer Frederick Winslow Taylor’s notion that workers are interchangeable cogs — but with every decade came a new philosophy, each advocating that more power be passed down the chain of command to division managers, group leaders, and workers themselves. In 1977, Robert Greenleaf’s Servant Leadership argued that CEOs should think of themselves as slaves to their workers and focus on keeping them happy.

Silicon Valley has always been at the forefront of this kind of egalitarianism. In the 1940s, Bill Hewlett and David Packard pioneered what business author Tom Peters dubbed “managing by walking around,” an approach that encouraged executives to communicate informally with their employees. In the 1990s, Intel’s executives expressed solidarity with the engineers by renouncing their swanky corner offices in favor of standard-issue cubicles. And today, if Google hasn’t made itself a Greenleaf-esque slave to its employees, it’s at least a cruise director: The Mountain View campus is famous for its perks, including in-house masseuses, roller-hockey games, and a cafeteria where employees gobble gourmet vittles for free. What’s more, Google’s engineers have unprecedented autonomy; they choose which projects they work on and whom they work with. And they are encouraged to allot 20 percent of their work week to pursuing their own software ideas. The result? Products like Gmail and Google News, which began as personal endeavors.

Jobs, by contrast, is a notorious micromanager. No product escapes Cupertino without meeting Jobs’ exacting standards, which are said to cover such esoteric details as the number of screws on the bottom of a laptop and the curve of a monitor’s corners. “He would scrutinize everything, down to the pixel level,” says Cordell Ratzlaff, a former manager charged with creating the OS X interface.

At most companies, the red-faced, tyrannical boss is an outdated archetype, a caricature from the life of Dagwood. Not at Apple. Whereas the rest of the tech industry may motivate employees with carrots, Jobs is known as an inveterate stick man. Even the most favored employee could find themselves on the receiving end of a tirade. Insiders have a term for it: the “hero-shithead roller coaster.” Says Edward Eigerman, a former Apple engineer, “More than anywhere else I’ve worked before or since, there’s a lot of concern about being fired.”

But Jobs’ employees remain devoted. That’s because his autocracy is balanced by his famous charisma — he can make the task of designing a power supply feel like a mission from God. Andy Hertzfeld, lead designer of the original Macintosh OS, says Jobs imbued him and his coworkers with “messianic zeal.” And because Jobs’ approval is so hard to win, Apple staffers labor tirelessly to please him. “He has the ability to pull the best out of people,” says Ratzlaff, who worked closely with Jobs on OS X for 18 months. “I learned a tremendous amount from him.”

Apple’s successes in the years since Jobs’ return — iMac, iPod, iPhone — suggest an alternate vision to the worker-is-always-right school of management. In Cupertino, innovation doesn’t come from coddling employees and collecting whatever froth rises to the surface; it is the product of an intense, hard-fought process, where people’s feelings are irrelevant. Some management theorists are coming around to Apple’s way of thinking. “A certain type of forcefulness and perseverance is sometimes helpful when tackling large, intractable problems,” says Roderick Kramer, a social psychologist at Stanford who wrote an appreciation of “great intimidators” — including Jobs — for the February 2006 Harvard Business Review.

Likewise, Robert Sutton’s 2007 book, The No Asshole Rule, spoke out against workplace tyrants but made an exception for Jobs: “He inspires astounding effort and creativity from his people,” Sutton wrote. A Silicon Valley insider once told Sutton that he had seen Jobs demean many people and make some of them cry. But, the insider added, “He was almost always right.”

“Steve proves that it’s OK to be an asshole,” says Guy Kawasaki, Apple’s former chief evangelist. “I can’t relate to the way he does things, but it’s not his problem. It’s mine. He just has a different OS.”

Nicholas Ciarelli created Think Secret — a Web site devoted to exposing Apple’s covert product plans — when he was 13 years old, a seventh grader at Cazenovia Junior-Senior High School in central New York. He stuck with it for 10 years, publishing some legitimate scoops (he predicted the introduction of a new titanium PowerBook, the iPod shuffle, and the Mac mini) and some embarrassing misfires (he reported that the iPod mini would sell for $100; it actually went for $249) for a growing audience of Apple enthusiasts. When he left for Harvard, Ciarelli kept the site up and continued to pull in ad revenue. At heart, though, Think Secret wasn’t a financial enterprise but a personal obsession. “I was a huge enthusiast,” Ciarelli says. “One of my birthday cakes had an Apple logo on it.”

Most companies would pay millions of dollars for that kind of attention — an army of fans so eager to buy your stuff that they can’t wait for official announcements to learn about the newest products. But not Apple. Over the course of his run, Ciarelli received dozens of cease-and-desist letters from the object of his affection, charging him with everything from copyright infringement to disclosing trade secrets. In January 2005, Apple filed a lawsuit against Ciarelli, accusing him of illegally soliciting trade secrets from its employees. Two years later, in December 2007, Ciarelli settled with Apple, shutting down his site two months later. (He and Apple agreed to keep the settlement terms confidential.)

Apple’s secrecy may not seem out of place in Silicon Valley, land of the nondisclosure agreement, where algorithms are protected with the same zeal as missile launch codes. But in recent years, the tech industry has come to embrace candor. Microsoft — once the epitome of the faceless megalith — has softened its public image by encouraging employees to create no-holds-barred blogs, which share details of upcoming projects and even criticize the company. Sun Microsystems CEO Jonathan Schwartz has used his widely read blog to announce layoffs, explain strategy, and defend acquisitions.

“Openness facilitates a genuine conversation, and often collaboration, toward a shared outcome,” says Steve Rubel, a senior vice president at the PR firm Edeleman Digital. “When people feel like they’re on your side, it increases their trust in you. And trust drives sales.”

In an April 2007 cover story, we at Wired dubbed this tactic “radical transparency.” But Apple takes a different approach to its public relations. Call it radical opacity. Apple’s relationship with the press is dismissive at best, adversarial at worst; Jobs himself speaks only to a handpicked batch of reporters, and only when he deems it necessary. (He declined to talk to Wired for this article.) Forget corporate blogs — Apple doesn’t seem to like anyone blogging about the company. And Apple appears to revel in obfuscation. For years, Jobs dismissed the idea of adding video capability to the iPod. “We want it to make toast,” he quipped sarcastically at a 2004 press conference. “We’re toying with refrigeration, too.” A year later, he unveiled the fifth-generation iPod, complete with video. Jobs similarly disavowed the suggestion that he might move the Mac to Intel chips or release a software developers’ kit for the iPhone — only months before announcing his intentions to do just that.

Even Apple employees often have no idea what their own company is up to. Workers’ electronic security badges are programmed to restrict access to various areas of the campus. (Signs warning NO TAILGATING are posted on doors to discourage the curious from sneaking into off-limit areas.) Software and hardware designers are housed in separate buildings and kept from seeing each other’s work, so neither gets a complete sense of the project. “We have cells, like a terrorist organization,” Jon Rubinstein, former head of Apple’s hardware and iPod divisions and now executive chair at Palm, told BusinessWeek in 2000.

At times, Apple’s secrecy approaches paranoia. Talking to outsiders is forbidden; employees are warned against telling their families what they are working on. (Phil Schiller, Apple’s marketing chief, once told Fortune magazine he couldn’t share the release date of a new iPod with his own son.) Even Jobs is subject to his own strictures. He took home a prototype of Apple’s boom box, the iPod Hi-Fi, but kept it concealed under a cloth.

But Apple’s radical opacity hasn’t hurt the company — rather, the approach has been critical to its success, allowing the company to attack new product categories and grab market share before competitors wake up. It took Apple nearly three years to develop the iPhone in secret; that was a three-year head start on rivals. Likewise, while there are dozens of iPod knockoffs, they have hit the market just as Apple has rendered them obsolete. For example, Microsoft introduced the Zune 2, with its iPod-like touch-sensitive scroll wheel, in October 2007, a month after Apple announced it was moving toward a new interface for the iPod touch. Apple has been known to poke fun at its rivals’ catch-up strategies. The company announced Tiger, the latest version of its operating system, with posters taunting, REDMOND, START YOUR PHOTOCOPIERS.)

Secrecy has also served Apple’s marketing efforts well, building up feverish anticipation for every announcement. In the weeks before Macworld Expo, Apple’s annual trade show, the tech media is filled with predictions about what product Jobs will unveil in his keynote address. Consumer-tech Web sites liveblog the speech as it happens, generating their biggest traffic of the year. And the next day, practically every media outlet covers the announcements. Harvard business professor David Yoffie has said that the introduction of the iPhone resulted in headlines worth $400 million in advertising.

But Jobs’ tactics also carry risks — especially when his announcements don’t live up to the lofty expectations that come with such secrecy. The MacBook Air received a mixed response after some fans — who were hoping for a touchscreen-enabled tablet PC — deemed the slim-but-pricey subnotebook insufficiently revolutionary. Fans have a nickname for the aftermath of a disappointing event: post-Macworld depression.

Still, Apple’s radical opacity has, on the whole, been a rousing success — and it’s a tactic that most competitors can’t mimic. Intel and Microsoft, for instance, sell their chips and software through partnerships with PC companies; they publish product road maps months in advance so their partners can create the machines to use them. Console makers like Sony and Microsoft work hand in hand with developers so they can announce a full roster of games when their PlayStations and Xboxes launch. But because Apple creates all of the hardware and software in-house, it can keep those products under wraps. Fundamentally the company bears more resemblance to an old-school industrial manufacturer like General Motors than to the typical tech firm.

In fact, part of the joy of being an Apple customer is anticipating the surprises that Santa Steve brings at Macworld Expo every January. Ciarelli is still eager to find out what’s coming next — even if he can’t write about it. “I wish they hadn’t sued me,” he says, “but I’m still a fan of their products.”

Back in the mid-1990s, as Apple struggled to increase its share of the PC market, every analyst with a Bloomberg terminal was quick to diagnose the cause of the computermaker’s failure: Apple waited too long to license its operating system to outside hardware makers. In other words, it tried for too long to control the entire computing experience. Microsoft, Apple’s rival to the north, dominated by encouraging computer manufacturers to build their offerings around its software. Sure, that strategy could result in an inferior user experience and lots of cut-rate Wintel machines, but it also gave Microsoft a stranglehold on the software market. Even Wired joined the fray; in June 1997, we told Apple, “You shoulda licensed your OS in 1987″ and advised, “Admit it. You’re out of the hardware game.”

Oops.

When Jobs returned to Apple in 1997, he ignored everyone’s advice and tied his company’s proprietary software to its proprietary hardware. He has held to that strategy over the years, even as his Silicon Valley cohorts have embraced the values of openness and interoperability. Android, Google’s operating system for mobile phones, is designed to work on any participating handset. Last year, Amazon.com began selling DRM-free songs that can be played on any MP3 player. Even Microsoft has begun to embrace the movement toward Web-based applications, software that runs on any platform.

Not Apple. Want to hear your iTunes songs on the go? You’re locked into playing them on your iPod. Want to run OS X? Buy a Mac. Want to play movies from your iPod on your TV? You’ve got to buy a special Apple-branded connector ($49). Only one wireless carrier would give Jobs free rein to design software and features for his handset, which is why anyone who wants an iPhone must sign up for service with AT&T.

During the early days of the PC, the entire computer industry was like Apple — companies such as Osborne and Amiga built software that worked only on their own machines. Now Apple is the one vertically integrated company left, a fact that makes Jobs proud. “Apple is the last company in our industry that creates the whole widget,” he once told a Macworld crowd.

But not everyone sees Apple’s all-or-nothing approach in such benign terms. The music and film industries, in particular, worry that Jobs has become a gatekeeper for all digital content. Doug Morris, CEO of Universal Music, has accused iTunes of leaving labels powerless to negotiate with it. (Ironically, it was the labels themselves that insisted on the DRM that confines iTunes purchases to the iPod, and that they now protest.) “Apple has destroyed the music business,” NBC Universal chief Jeff Zucker told an audience at Syracuse University. “If we don’t take control on the video side, [they'll] do the same.” At a media business conference held during the early days of the Hollywood writers’ strike, Michael Eisner argued that Apple was the union’s real enemy: “[The studios] make deals with Steve Jobs, who takes them to the cleaners. They make all these kinds of things, and who’s making money? Apple!”

Meanwhile, Jobs’ insistence on the sanctity of his machines has affronted some of his biggest fans. In September, Apple released its first upgrade to the iPhone operating system. But the new software had a pernicious side effect: It would brick, or disable, any phone containing unapproved applications. The blogosphere erupted in protest; gadget blog Gizmodo even wrote a new review of the iPhone, reranking it a “don’t buy.” Last year, Jobs announced he would open up the iPhone so that independent developers could create applications for it, but only through an official process that gives Apple final approval of every application.

For all the protests, consumers don’t seem to mind Apple’s walled garden. In fact, they’re clamoring to get in. Yes, the iPod hardware and the iTunes software are inextricably linked — that’s why they work so well together. And now, PC-based iPod users, impressed with the experience, have started converting to Macs, further investing themselves in the Apple ecosystem.

Some Apple competitors have tried to emulate its tactics. Microsoft’s MP3 strategy used to be like its mobile strategy — license its software to (almost) all comers. Not any more: The operating system for Microsoft’s Zune player is designed uniquely for the device, mimicking the iPod’s vertical integration. Amazon’s Kindle e-reader provides seamless access to a proprietary selection of downloadable books, much as the iTunes Music Store provides direct access to an Apple-curated storefront. And the Nintendo Wii, the Sony PlayStation 3, and the Xbox360 each offer users access to self-contained online marketplaces for downloading games and special features.

Tim O’Reilly, publisher of the O’Reilly Radar blog and an organizer of the Web 2.0 Summit, says that these “three-tiered systems” — that blend hardware, installed software, and proprietary Web applications — represent the future of the Net. As consumers increasingly access the Web using scaled-down appliances like mobile phones and Kindle readers, they will demand applications that are tailored to work with those devices. True, such systems could theoretically be open, with any developer allowed to throw its own applications and services into the mix. But for now, the best three-tier systems are closed. And Apple, O’Reilly says, is the only company that “really understands how to build apps for a three-tiered system.”

If Apple represents the shiny, happy future of the tech industry, it also looks a lot like our cat-o’-nine-tails past. In part, that’s because the tech business itself more and more resembles an old-line consumer industry. When hardware and software makers were focused on winning business clients, price and interoperability were more important than the user experience. But now that consumers make up the most profitable market segment, usability and design have become priorities. Customers expect a reliable and intuitive experience — just like they do with any other consumer product.

All this plays to Steve Jobs’ strengths. No other company has proven as adept at giving customers what they want before they know they want it. Undoubtedly, this is due to Jobs’ unique creative vision. But it’s also a function of his management practices. By exerting unrelenting control over his employees, his image, and even his customers, Jobs exerts unrelenting control over his products and how they’re used. And in a consumer-focused tech industry, the products are what matter. “Everything that’s happening is playing to his values,” says Geoffrey Moore, author of the marketing tome Crossing the Chasm. “He’s at the absolute epicenter of the digitization of life. He’s totally in the zone.”

Leander Kahney (leander@wired.com), news editor of Wired.com, is the author of Inside Steve’s Brain, to be published in April by Penguin Portfolio.

After decades of denying the facility’s existence, five former insiders speak out

by Annie Jacobsen

Area 51. It’s the most famous military institution in the world that doesn’t officially exist. If it did, it would be found about 100 miles outside Las Vegas in Nevada’s high desert, tucked between an Air Force base and an abandoned nuclear testing ground. Then again, maybe not— the U.S. government refuses to say. You can’t drive anywhere close to it, and until recently, the airspace overhead was restricted—all the way to outer space. Any mention of Area 51 gets redacted from official documents, even those that have been declassified for decades.

It has become the holy grail for conspiracy theorists, with UFOlogists positing that the Pentagon reverse engineers flying saucers and keeps extraterrestrial beings stored in freezers. Urban legend has it that Area 51 is connected by underground tunnels and trains to other secret facilities around the country. In 2001, Katie Couric told Today Show audiences that 7 percent of Americans doubt the moon landing happened—that it was staged in the Nevada desert. Millions of X-Files fans believe the truth may be “out there,” but more likely it’s concealed inside Area 51’s Strangelove-esque hangars—buildings that, though confirmed by Google Earth, the government refuses to acknowledge.

The problem is the myths of Area 51 are hard to dispute if no one can speak on the record about what actually happened there. Well, now, for the first time, someone is ready to talk—in fact, five men are, and their stories rival the most outrageous of rumors. Colonel Hugh “Slip” Slater, 87, was commander of the Area 51 base in the 1960s. Edward Lovick, 90, featured in “What Plane?” in LA’s March issue, spent three decades radar testing some of the world’s most famous aircraft (including the U-2, the A-12 OXCART and the F-117). Kenneth Collins, 80, a CIA experimental test pilot, was given the silver star. Thornton “T.D.” Barnes, 72, was an Area 51 special-projects engineer. And Harry Martin, 77, was one of the men in charge of the base’s half-million-gallon monthly supply of spy-plane fuels. Here are a few of their best stories—forthe record:

On May 24, 1963, Collins flew out of Area 51’s restricted airspace in a top-secret spy plane code-named OXCART, built by Lockheed Aircraft Corporation. He was flying over Utah when the aircraft pitched, flipped and headed toward a crash. He ejected into a field of weeds.

Almost 46 years later, in late fall of 2008, sitting in a coffee shop in the San Fernando Valley, Collins remembers that day with the kind of clarity the threat of a national security breach evokes: “Three guys came driving toward me in a pickup. I saw they had the aircraft canopy in the back. They offered to take me to my plane.” Until that moment, no civilian without a top-secret security clearance had ever laid eyes on the airplane Collins was flying. “I told them not to go near the aircraft. I said it had a nuclear weapon on-board.” The story fit right into the Cold War backdrop of the day, as many atomic tests took place in Nevada. Spooked, the men drove Collins to the local highway patrol. The CIA disguised the accident as involving a generic Air Force plane, the F-105, which is how the event is still listed in official records.

As for the guys who picked him up, they were tracked down and told to sign national security nondisclosures. As part of Collins’ own debriefing, the CIA asked the decorated pilot to take truth serum. “They wanted to see if there was anything I’d for-gotten about the events leading up to the crash.” The Sodium Pento-thal experience went without a hitch—except for the reaction of his wife, Jane.

“Late Sunday, three CIA agents brought me home. One drove my car; the other two carried me inside and laid me down on the couch. I was loopy from the drugs. They handed Jane the car keys and left without saying a word.” The only conclusion she could draw was that her husband had gone out and gotten drunk. “Boy, was she mad,” says Collins with a chuckle.

At the time of Collins’ accident, CIA pilots had been flying spy planes in and out of Area 51 for eight years, with the express mission of providing the intelligence to prevent nuclear war. Aerial reconnaissance was a major part of the CIA’s preemptive efforts, while the rest of America built bomb shelters and hoped for the best.

“It wasn’t always called Area 51,” says Lovick, the physicist who developed stealth technology. His boss, legendary aircraft designer Clarence L. “Kelly” Johnson, called the place Paradise Ranch to entice men to leave their families and “rough it” out in the Nevada desert in the name of science and the fight against the evil empire. “Test pilot Tony LeVier found the place by flying over it,” says Lovick. “It was a lake bed called Groom Lake, selected for testing because it was flat and far from anything. It was kept secret because the CIA tested U-2s there.”

When Frances Gary Powers was shot down over Sverdlovsk, Russia, in 1960, the U-2 program lost its cover. But the CIA already had Lovick and some 200 scientists, engineers and pilots working at Area 51 on the A-12 OXCART, which would outfox Soviet radar using height, stealth and speed.

Col. Slater was in the outfit of six pilots who flew OXCART missions during the Vietnam War. Over a Cuban meat and cheese sandwich at the Bahama Breeze restaurant off the Las Vegas Strip, he says, “I was recruited for the Area after working with the CIA’s classified Black Cat Squadron, which flew U-2 missions over denied territory in Mainland China. After that, I was told, ‘You should come out to Nevada and work on something interesting we’re doing out there.’ “

Even though Slater considers himself a fighter pilot at heart—he flew 84 missions in World War II—the opportunity to work at Area 51 was impossible to pass up. “When I learned about this Mach-3 aircraft called OXCART, it was completely intriguing to me—this idea of flying three times the speed of sound! No one knew a thing about the program. I asked my wife, Barbara, if she wanted to move to Las Vegas, and she said yes. And I said, ‘You won’t see me but on the weekends,’ and she said, ‘That’s fine!’ ” At this recollection, Slater laughs heartily. Barbara, dining with us, laughs as well. The two, married for 63 years, are rarely apart today.

“We couldn’t have told you any of this a year ago,” Slater says. “Now we can’t tell it to you fast enough.” That is because in 2007, the CIA began declassifying the 50-year-old OXCART program. Today, there’s a scramble for eyewitnesses to fill in the information gaps. Only a few of the original players are left. Two more of them join me and the Slaters for lunch: Barnes, formerly an Area 51 special-projects engineer, with his wife, Doris; and Martin, one of those overseeing the OXCART’s specially mixed jet fuel (regular fuel explodes at extreme height, temperature and speed), with his wife, Mary. Because the men were sworn to secrecy for so many decades, their wives still get a kick out of hearing the secret tales.

Barnes was married at 17 (Doris was 16). To support his wife, he became an electronics wizard, buying broken television sets, fixing them up and reselling them for five times the original price. He went from living in bitter poverty on a Texas Panhandle ranch with no electricity to buying his new bride a dream home before he was old enough to vote. As a soldier in the Korean War, Barnes demonstrated an uncanny aptitude for radar and Nike missile systems, which made him a prime target for recruitment by the CIA—which indeed happened when he was 22. By 30, he was handling nuclear secrets.

“The agency located each guy at the top of a certain field and put us together for the programs at Area 51,” says Barnes. As a security precaution, he couldn’t reveal his birth name—he went by the moniker Thunder. Coworkers traveled in separate cars, helicopters and airplanes. Barnes and his group kept to themselves, even in the mess hall. “Our special-projects group was the most classified team since the Manhattan Project,” he says.

Harry Martin’s specialty was fuel. Handpicked by the CIA from the Air Force, he underwent rigorous psychological and physical tests to see if he was up for the job. When he passed, the CIA moved his family to Nevada. Because OXCART had to refuel frequently, the CIA kept supplies at secret facilities around the globe. Martin often traveled to these bases for quality-control checks. He tells of preparing for a top-secret mission from Area 51 to Thule, Greenland. “My wife took one look at me in these arctic boots and this big hooded coat, and she knew not to ask where I was going.”

So, what of those urban legends—the UFOs studied in secret, the underground tunnels connecting clandestine facilities? For decades, the men at Area 51 thought they’d take their secrets to the grave. At the height of the Cold War, they cultivated anonymity while pursuing some of the country’s most covert projects. Conspiracy theories were left to popular imagination. But in talking with Collins, Lovick, Slater, Barnes and Martin, it is clear that much of the folklore was spun from threads of fact.

As for the myths of reverse engineering of flying saucers, Barnes offers some insight: “We did reverse engineer a lot of foreign technology, including the Soviet MiG fighter jet out at the Area”—even though the MiG wasn’t shaped like a flying saucer. As for the underground-tunnel talk, that, too, was born of truth. Barnes worked on a nuclear-rocket program called Project NERVA, inside underground chambers at Jackass Flats, in Area 51’s backyard. “Three test-cell facilities were connected by railroad, but everything else was underground,” he says.

And the quintessential Area 51 conspiracy—that the Pentagon keeps captured alien spacecraft there, which they fly around in restricted airspace? Turns out that one’s pretty easy to debunk. The shape of OXCART was unprece-dented, with its wide, disk-like fuselage designed to carry vast quantities of fuel. Commercial pilots cruising over Nevada at dusk would look up and see the bottom of OXCART whiz by at 2,000-plus mph. The aircraft’s tita-nium body, moving as fast as a bullet, would reflect the sun’s rays in a way that could make anyone think, UFO.

In all, 2,850 OXCART test flights were flown out of Area 51 while Slater was in charge. “That’s a lot of UFO sightings!” Slater adds. Commercial pilots would report them to the FAA, and “when they’d land in California, they’d be met by FBI agents who’d make them sign nondisclosure forms.” But not everyone kept quiet, hence the birth of Area 51’s UFO lore. The sightings incited uproar in Nevada and the surrounding areas and forced the Air Force to open Project BLUE BOOK to log each claim.

Since only a few Air Force officials were cleared for OXCART (even though it was a joint CIA/USAF project), many UFO sightings raised internal military alarms. Some generals believed the Russians might be sending stealth craft over American skies to incite paranoia and create widespread panic of alien invasion. Today, BLUE BOOK findings are housed in 37 cubic feet of case files at the National Archives—74,000 pages of reports. A keyword search brings up no mention of the top-secret OXCART or Area 51.

Project BLUE BOOK was shut down in 1969—more than a year after OXCART was retired. But what continues at America’s most clandestine military facility could take another 40 years to disclose.

http://www.latimes.com/features/la-mag-april052009-backstory,0,3355162.story

Conficker, also known as Downup, Downandup, Conflicker, and Kido, is a computer worm that surfaced November 21st, 2008 with Conficker.A and targets the Microsoft Windows operating system. The worm exploits a known vulnerability (MS08-067) in the Windows Server service used by Windows 2000, Windows XP, Windows Vista, Windows Server 2003, Windows Server 2008, and Windows 7 Beta. The latest variant (Conficker.C) will begin checking for a payload to download on March 31st, 2009. Conficker.A and Conficker.B variants continue to check for payloads each with a distinct domain generation algorithm.

http://www.confickerworkinggroup.org/wiki/#toc1

In September, 2005, I had the opportunity to exchange e-mail with Halil Demirezen on the subject of getting to know the FreeBSD kernel. Since the answer seemed of more general interest, I thought I’d posted it on my web site in case it was of interest to anyone else.

From rwatson at FreeBSD.org Tue Sep  6 14:10:10 2005
Date: Tue, 6 Sep 2005 14:10:10 +0100 (BST)
From: Robert Watson <rwatson at FreeBSD dot org>
To: Halil Demirezen < halil at enderunix dot org>
Subject: Re: One dummy question but important for me.
On Tue, 6 Sep 2005, Halil Demirezen wrote:

> It is one little sample of hundred thousands of silly questions. But for
> an individual it is really important one. I have been dealing with
> kernel (/usr/src/sys/) in FreeBSD. However, this is really a big
> challenge. My graduate thesis was a little i386 kernel that boots from
> Floppy Disks (3 1/2). Run in protected mode. A shell little memory
> management and multiprocessed one.
>
> I am coping with FreeBSD kernel to understand and to hack it. Where to
> start? It is really difficult to understand the essentials. I am sure i
> will spend my time on it. But what are the first essentials for a kernel
> developer to be in the developing. I know it is easy for one who started
> developing FreeBSD from the beginning. But as the code grows, It starts
> to be impossible to begin. I tried to start from booting process. But
> the kernel structure got lost in mind. When I try to understand one
> source file, I need to open several to unite the all.
…

Halil,
Well, the FreeBSD kernel is a huge piece of software — I’ve been working
with it fairly continuously for about 8-10 years now, and only feel like I
really understand a fraction of it.  On the other hand, it turns out that
partial understanding is still good enough to do some useful work .
There are a couple of ways to go about learning about the structure of the
kernel.  If you don’t already have a copy of McKusick and Neville-Neil’s
Design and Implementation of FreeBSD book, you should see if you can get a
copy.  While it’s hardly an introductory guide to the kernel, it does do a
good job of presenting important depth about a lot of important
subsystems.  I find it more useful as reference material than reading
material, but it’s quite helpful.

Another way is to go at it from the perspective of reading source code.
If you’ve skimmed or read the above book, I would recommend using one of a
number of source code browsing web sites to start exploring the kernel.
There are a couple of places you might begin, depending on what you want
to learn.  Here are a few you might try:

http://fxr.watson.org/fxr/ident?i=mi_startup

mi_startup() is the machine-independent system boot function, which occurs
after the low level hardware has been initialized, and is responsible for
kicking off SYSINIT(), the boot time registration mechanism.  Various
kernel components declare code that has to run at boot using SYSINIT()
macros, which are ordered using subsystem ID’s.  You can find a list of
the subsystems and their ordering here:

http://fxr.watson.org/fxr/ident?i=sysinit_sub_id

You may also be interested in the proc0 initialization function — process
0 becomes the kernel process and swapper, and is started by mi_startup()
via sysinit:

http://fxr.watson.org/fxr/ident?i=proc0_init
http://fxr.watson.org/fxr/ident?i=proc0_post

Another important starting point is the process 1 kernel code, which is
the kernel process that runs init(8), which in turn kicks off the start of
user space:

http://fxr.watson.org/fxr/ident?i=create_init
http://fxr.watson.org/fxr/ident?i=start_init
http://fxr.watson.org/fxr/ident?i=kick_init

The start_init() function is run in process 1, which is created by
create_init() run by sysinit in process 0.  Once init is created, it will
be started by kick_init(), also run by process 0 using sysinit.
Prior to mi_startup(), machine-dependent boot code runs.  The details vary
a lot by platform, but the code is pretty much always named “locore”, and
is the entry point for the kernel loaded by the boot loader:

http://fxr.watson.org/fxr/source/i386/i386/locore.s

It generally is responsible for getting the kernel set up to execute,
laying out kernel memory, preparing stacks, and all that.  There’s a book
by Jolice called “Kernel Source Code Secrets” in two volumes, which
describes the early 386BSD kernel.  While the code has changed quite a lot
since then, it can still make useful reading in understanding locore and a
number of other parts of the kernel.

Sysinits are particularly interesting for understanding the boot process
because they rely on kernel linker sets and hook mechanically into both
the boot process and module load process.  Sysinit functions are run in
the order they appear in the enumeration, and you’ll find that many kernel
subsystems register the components using macros wrapped around sysinit.
For example, VFS_SET() is a macro that declares the initializes for
virtual file system implementations, allowing the file systems to register
themselves for use later:

http://fxr.watson.org/fxr/ident?i=VFS_SET

Another perspective from which to view the kernel and explore the source
is from the perspective of the steady state offering services to user
space.  The most useful starting point here is:

http://fxr.watson.org/fxr/source/kern/syscalls.master

This is the master system call definition file, from which other files,
such as init_sysent.c, are generated.  Each system call listed in
syscalls.master is implemented by a function by the same name in the
kernel.  For example, sync() is declared in syscalls.master, and
implemented by a function named sync() in vfs_syscalls.c:

http://fxr.watson.org/fxr/ident?i=sync

So you can investigate code paths taken by particular system calls
starting there.

Of course, system calls aren’t the only way to enter a kernel.  A variety
of traps exist, some leading to the VM system, others to signal handlers,
math emulators, interrupt handlers, and so on.  The low level trap code is
machine-dependent, but will usually be implemented by a function named
trap():

http://fxr.watson.org/fxr/ident?i=trap

It calls into a lot of other things, including the system call vector for
the process, generally derived from syscalls.master or an emulator
variant, the page fault handler, and so on:

http://fxr.watson.org/fxr/ident?i=trap_pfault

On return from a system call (and various other circumstances), userret()
is also interesting:

http://fxr.watson.org/fxr/ident?i=userret

Hopefully this is a useful starting point for browsing?
Robert N M Watson

Currently I am into automating the process of installing and configuring snort in FreeBSD. I have developed a small script which installs and configures Snort, MySql, Apache, PHP, ADODB and Base console in FreeBSD. Currently I have written the following scripts:

1) start.sh -> creates all necessary directories and users

2) deps.sh -> installs dependencies like libpcap, pcre, libxml2

3) mysql.sh -> installs mysql

4) snort.sh -> installs snort and updates the rules

5) create_snortdb.sh -> creates snort db schema and confifures acl’s for accessing

6) apachephp.sh -> installs apache, php and mod security

right now I am into developing scripts for updating configuration files too.. like after you install all the above you need to manually modify snort.conf, httpd.conf;etc for settings..

i am also developing a model to secure the entire ids by hardening FreeBSD, MySQL, Apache;etc and distributed IDS

will update soon !!!

A Wall Street Journal article titled Microsoft Uses Open-Source Code Despite Denying Use of Such Software recently caused a ruckus on the Web.

The article stated that Microsoft was running FreeBSD on some of the servers used by Hotmail, its free Web email service. It also claimed that “software connected with the FreeBSD open-source operating system is used in several places deep inside several versions of Microsoft’s Windows software, such as in the `TCP/IP’ section that arranges all connections to the Internet.”

I worked at Microsoft for ten years, most of it on the core Windows NT/2000 (hereafter referred to as NT) networking code. As such I briefly dealt with the Hotmail team, mostly to hear them complain about the lameness of the telnet daemon in NT (a valid point). I do know that when Microsoft bought Hotmail, the email system was entirely running on FreeBSD, and Microsoft immediately set about trying to migrate it to NT, and it took many years to do so. Now it seems that the transition is not complete. Well, what are you gonna do.On the other hand, I know a lot about the TCP/IP stack that is running on NT. Here is a short history of it (some of this may also be told in the book How the Web Was Won, but I haven’t read it):

The original plan for NT was that a few members of the core NT team (which numbered about 15 developers) would write all the networking code. However, in 1990 a small team was started up in the LAN Manager group at Microsoft to do some of that NT networking work. Eventually that team moved over to be a part of NT (this coincided with the IBM-OS/2 “divorce”, if anyone is interested).

Microsoft’s networking software at the time ran over a network protocol called Netbeui, but it was decided that TCP/IP was gaining in importance, and should be included in NT. In addition, the user-mode API associated with Netbeui, which was called Netbios, was too Netbeui-specific and couldn’t be adapted to allow user-mode access to TCP/IP. As a result, the decision was made:

1) To put a TCP/IP stack in NT

2) To adapt the sockets user-mode API for NT

#1 was solved by licensing code from a company called Spider Systems. However, Spider’s TCP/IP stack was written to run within an environment called STREAMS, which was a wrapper that specified how the various parts of the stack would communicate with each other (TCP/IP is really several pieces of code — two of which are TCP and IP — layered on top of each other. Most network protocols are like that, which is why they are referred to as “stacks”). As a result, STREAMS also had to be ported to NT.

#2 involved the creation of the winsock API, which persists today.

It was recognized that using Spider’s stack was a temporary measure, because nobody really wanted a stack that depended on STREAMS and its associated overhead. So, a short time after this, work was begun on a new version of TCP/IP, written entirely by Microsoft.

Along with Spider’s stack came versions of various TCP/IP-related utility programs, such as ftp, rcp and rsh. Those were ported from BSD sockets to winsock (not a huge change) and bundled with NT.

Now, some of Spider’s code (possibly all of it) was based on the TCP/IP stack in the BSD flavors of Unix. These are open source, but distributed under the BSD license, not the GPL that Linux is released under. Whereas the GPL states that any software derived from GPL’ed software must also be released under the GPL, the BSD license basically says, “here’s the source, you can do whatever you want, just give credit to the original author.”

Eventually the new, from scratch TCP/IP stack was done and shipped with NT 3.5 (the second version, despite the number) in late 1994. The same stack was also included with Windows 95.

However, it looks like some of those Unix utilities were never rewritten. If you look at the executables, you can still see the copyright notice from the regents of the University of California (BSD is short for Berkeley Software Distrubution, Berkeley being a branch of the University of California, for some reason referred to as “Berkeley” on the East Coast and “California” on the West Coast…and “Berkeley” is one of those words that starts to look real funny if you stare at it too long – but I digress).

Keep in mind there is no reason to rewrite that code. If your ftp client works fine (no comments from the peanut gallery!) then why change it? Microsoft has other fish to fry. And the software was licensed perfectly legally, since the inclusion of the copyright notice satisfied the BSD license.

I won’t even swear on a stack of bibles that the “new” TCP/IP now shipping in NT/2000/XP and Windows 95/98/Me is completely free of the old code from Spider. Since I don’t work there I don’t have access to the source code. Certainly some parts of TCP (the checksum calculation comes to mind) are the same everywhere and once someone has written an optimized version, why rewrite it? And once again, this would be perfectly legitimate for Microsoft to do under the license.

But it is certainly misleading of the Wall Street Journal to say that BSD code is used “deep inside” the NT networking code, unless they mean the STREAMS wrapper itself, which I believe is still there in case someone wants to write a transport using it (I think there is an OSI TP4 STREAMS transport lurking somewhere out there, if anyone cares – but I just checked, nobody does). But the TCP/IP in NT certainly doesn’t use STREAMS.

And implying that the TCP/IP stack uses BSD code is also false. As I said above there may be small vestiges of it in there, although I doubt it. Anyway the FreeBSD programmers who reported all this to the Wall Street Journal can’t see the NT TCP/IP source either, so they can’t have been referring to that.

But whatever! It isn’t the first time Microsoft has been maligned by the press, and it won’t be the last.

However, this history does illustrate Microsoft’s view of the GPL. As you may recall, Microsoft VP Craig Mundie recently claimed thatthe GPL is anti-competitive, un-American, flea-infested, locust-plagued, etc. This followed up on similar claims by another VP, Jim Allchin, so it appears that this is the angle Microsoft has chosen to attack Linux.

On the face of it, Microsoft complaining about the source license used by Linux is like the event horizon calling the kettle black. Microsoft has no source license at all to speak of (for the general public anyway)! Anyway when did the source license of a piece of software become an issue for the average Joe who wants to buy it? As a former Microserf, I’ll be the first to admit that Mundie’s arguments make no sense for the industry in general.

Still from Microsoft’s point of view, the source license of software does matter, because Microsoft might want to license the code. As it did in the case of the TCP/IP code it got from Spider, which was under the BSD license. If Spider’s code had been under the GPL, Microsoft couldn’t have used it. In other cases, Microsoft has licensed software from companies that were not open source at all, but Microsoft was able to negotiate a private license for its own use.

Again I’m not defending Microsoft’s viewpoint. For any given piece of code, there may be five companies in the world that want to license it, 500 programmers who want to modify it, and 5 million users that want to use it. So the GPL is a good thing in general. Microsoft’s main goal with the anti-GPL rhetoric is to discredit Linux, not to make it easier for it to license third-party software.

Still you can see how Microsoft’s stance, from its own weird, warped perspective, almost makes some little iota of sense.

Courtesy: http://www.kuro5hin.org/?op=displaystory;sid=2001/6/19/05641/7357