Philosophy

My neighbour is 70 years old. He’s been using Windows his entire life. Last month he asked me: “Tom, I keep hearing about Linux. Is that something for me too?” He’s not the first. Over the past year, friends, family and colleagues have asked me the same thing in different shapes. “I want to get off Windows, but I don’t know where to start.” “Is Linux hard?” “Can I still use my normal programs?” To me these questions seem obvious. I’ve been running Linux since SuSE 6.0, back when you had to specifically pick hardware components that actually had Linux drivers. To someone who’s never seen a terminal, they feel genuinely daunting. ...

Here is how a lot of infrastructure still gets built in 2026. Someone opens a cloud console, clicks through a wizard, picks some defaults, and a resource appears. It works. The dashboard turns green. Everyone moves on. I can’t work that way. When I click a button and infrastructure appears, I feel like I borrowed it. I want to see what’s happening, I want the configuration written down where I can read it back, and I want to know why something exists instead of just that it exists. The console gives me a green checkmark. It doesn’t give me understanding. ...

You wake up. It’s dark. Somewhere a fan is humming. Your eyes adjust. You’re in a container. Metal walls, a few small windows, and through them: stars. Just stars. No Earth anywhere. There’s a note taped to the wall: “You have everything you need to survive. Nothing goes in, nothing goes out. Good luck.” I bring this thought experiment up when I’m in the right mood with friends. It sounds like science fiction. What it actually does is strip away the thing most of us never question: the assumption that there is an “outside” that absorbs our mistakes and refills our supplies. ...

For a long time, the cloud was just the water I swam in. I provisioned managed Kubernetes, clicked through the console, pasted a Terraform module someone else wrote, and shipped. It worked. Billing landed every month, the dashboards stayed green, and I never once asked what was actually running underneath. I trusted it the way you trust a lift in a building. You press the button and the doors open. ...