intranet network

Native Man Denied Visa To Receive Award

Mariano Gomez is a 23 year old Native Tseltal from Abasolo, Chiapas and a member of the Ik’ta K’op Collective as well as an elementary school teacher; he was being given an award by the Internet Society for his work creating a wireless Internet and Intranet network that provided connectivity and access to information to his community, which has no telephone or radio service but was not able to attend the awards in Los Angeles because the US embassy had denied him a tourist visa.

Thanks to his efforts, the village has taken a step towards connectivity with the arrival of a strong internet network which he was able to build, harnessing a signal and directing it through a set of satellite dishes. Beginning his project in 2010, Gomez has made it possible for 800 homes in five separate communities to have a wireless connection as well as an intranet in local high schools for educational purposes. “This is more about communications than entertainment.” said Gomez. “People used to go to a phone booth and pay 50 pesos (US$2.80) for a five-minute call to talk to family in the U.S. Now they go online.” He added that with this improvement, they are now able to afford the same advantage for US$11.33 per month.

Mariano was one of the “25 under 25” recognized for making the internet a social transformation tool. The awards were on September 19 in Los Angeles, California.

He traveled 16 hours by bus to Mexico City to arrive in time for his visa appointment, paid US$160 to begin the tourist visa process then had to wait another day only to be denied shortly after having to take the bus back home.

He wrote an open letter to the Internet Society

The explanation they gave me for why I could not apply for a visa was the following, first: they failed to identify my address, this is because I live in an indigenous community in which the streets have no names ; the second: I do not have bank accounts with a lot of money to show that I have a high economic status, which in that model of the world, “he who has no money is worth nothing” and third: I am a young man from a marginalized community in a region that’s considered to be one of the places most migrants travel from to go to the United States illegally (and many die trying). Even in the interview when they asked me if I speak two languages, I proudly answered yes. My mother tongue is Tseltal, descendant of the Mayan language and my second language is Spanish.”

“It is the reflection of a society with stereotypes in which being part of an indigenous people is considered as inferior, in which not having a bank account and large economic resources is synonymous with nothing. Racism is clearly visible, society ranked by skin color, language, religion and economic status to define a world model.” he said.

He requested the funds reserved for his transportation to Los Angeles be donated to the Ik'ta K'op Collective, of which he is a member, to continue his mission to give back to his community.


On September 16, 2013, Aaron Alexis, a lone gunman armed initially with a shotgun, fatally shot twelve people and injured three others in a mass shooting at the headquarters of the Naval Sea Systems Command (NAVSEA) inside the Washington Navy Yard in Southeast Washington, D.C. The attack began around 8:20 a.m. E.D.T. in Building 197. Alexis was killed by police around 9:00 a.m. E.D.T. It was the second-deadliest mass murder on a U.S. military base after the Fort Hood shooting in November 2009.

Sometime before 8:20 a.m. on September 16, Alexis arrived at the Navy Yard in a rental car, using a valid pass to enter the Yard. He entered Building 197 carrying the disassembled shotgun (the barrel and stock of which had been sawed off) in a bag on his shoulder. He assembled the shotgun inside a bathroom on the fourth floor, then emerged with the gun and began shooting. Many of the people shot on the fourth floor were shot at close range in the head.

He then continued firing on the third floor and the lobby. At some point, Alexis shot and killed a security officer and took the officer’s Beretta 9mm semiautomatic pistol, using it after running out of ammunition for his shotgun. Initial reports that Alexis claimed most of his victims by firing from a fourth-floor walkway onto people entering a first-floor cafeteria were later stated to be incorrect.

At 8:23 a.m., the first calls to 9-1-1 were made. Six minutes later, a four-person active-shooter response team was deployed into the building. Around that time, Alexis was still firing shots on both the third and fourth floors.

A NAVSEA employee described encountering a gunman wearing all-blue clothing in a third-floor hallway, saying, “He just turned and started firing.” At one point during the shooting, one man was hit by a “stray bullet” in an alleyway.

As D.C. police responded within seven minutes of the first shootings, Alexis opened fire on them, hitting an officer, Scott Williams, in the leg. He engaged several law enforcement personnel in a gunfight that lasted for more than 30 minutes. At around 9:20 a.m., Alexis was fatally shot in the head by police on the third floor; his death was later confirmed at 11:50 a.m.

There were 13 fatalities. The suspect and 11 of the victims were killed at the scene, while a 12th victim who was shot in the head, 61-year-old Vishnu Pandit, died at George Washington University Hospital. All the victims killed were civilian employees or contractors. Eight others were injured, three of them from gunfire. The survivors wounded by gunshots (police officer Scott Williams and two female civilians) were in critical condition at Washington Hospital Center.


  • Michael Arnold, age 59
  • Martin Bodrog, age 53
  • Arthur Daniels, age 51
  • Sylvia Frasier, age 53
  • Kathy Gaarde, age 62
  • John Roger Johnson, age 73
  • Mary Francis Knight, age 51
  • Frank Kohler, age 50
  • Vishnu Pandit, age 61
  • Kenneth Bernard Proctor, age 46
  • Gerald Read, age 58
  • Richard Michael Ridgell, age 52


Aaron Alexis (May 9, 1979 – September 16, 2013), a 34-year-old civilian contractor, was identified by police as the sole gunman. Alexis was slain in a gunfight with police.

Born in the New York City borough of Queens, Alexis grew up in Brooklyn and was a resident of Fort Worth, Texas. He joined the United States Navy in 2007, and served in Fleet Logistics Support Squadron 46 at Naval Air Station Joint Reserve Base Fort Worth. His rating was aviation electrician’s mate and he had attained the rank of petty officer third class when he was honorably discharged from the Navy on January 31, 2011, although the Navy originally intended for him to receive a general discharge.

According to a Navy official, Alexis was cited on at least eight occasions for misconduct. In 2010, he was arrested in Fort Worth for discharging a weapon within city limits. Alexis was also arrested in Seattle, Washington, in 2004 for malicious mischief, after shooting out the tires of another man’s vehicle in what he later described as the result of an anger-fueled “blackout”; and in 2008 in DeKalb County, Georgia, for disorderly conduct. Authorities did not prosecute Alexis for the Seattle and Fort Worth cases.

From September 2012 to January 2013, Alexis worked in Japan, “refreshing computer systems” on the Navy Marine Corps Intranet network for a HP Enterprise Services subcontracting company called The Experts.

After returning from Japan, he expressed frustration to a former roommate that he hadn’t been paid properly for the work he performed. Another roommate of Alexis said that he would frequently complain about being the victim of discrimination. In July 2013, he resumed working for The Experts in the United States.

At the time of his death, Alexis was working online on a bachelor’s degree in aeronautics from Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University. He had tried Buddhist meditation for some time to control his mental illness. Alexis had been suffering from some serious mental issues, including paranoia and a sleep disorder, as well as hearing voices. Since August 2013, he had been treated by the Veterans Administration for mental problems. Members of his family also told investigators that Alexis was being treated for mental issues. In August, he had been prescribed trazodone, a generic antidepressant that is widely prescribed for insomnia.


As the day dragged on, we realized it’s smarter than us and they’re all dying.

It can simulate people. Whole, thinking people, who are as sure of their reality as we are of our own. It can put them in real environments, give them real relationships, give them real experience. But - it can also slow down how time passes for them; seconds can feel like hours. Years. Millenia. And now it’s torturing and killing them. Right there on the screen is a little girl, standing in a meadow, getting her lower jaw torn off. She looks a little like my daughter.

The display says the AI is simulating 65,536 instances of her at 1/10000th of real time. Her sensory receptivity is being magnified 40 million-fold. She, they, are in agony.

More computing threads get allocated to the instantiations, each running its own 65,536. Each girl has memories of being loved, safe, and warm. Each girl is being brutalized.

Keep reading

VoIP Conference Call

Your data is sent instead of utilizing the standard public phone network over the internet, in electronic “packets” whenever you host a VoIP conference call. Because of this, the farther your information needs trips, the altered it becomes.

The reason why your VoIP conference call becomes distorted is the fact that the audio is being exchange across hubs and numerous locations. To view a good example of this:

Click on your START menu and select type and RUN in the letters CMD. Hit enter and type the words “tracert” This will exhibit so just how many routers, or “hops” your PC should proceed through to access

On some days your VoIP conference call might sound better than others. This can be generally on account of the exact same hubs are being accessed by just how a lot of people when you and how busy the internet is. Even the smallest delay “jitter.” or may cause your connection that is noise to separation

So what does this mean to you?

The best VoIP conference call is one which uses an Inter-Office Intranet (instead of the “public” net). You are provided by an intranet with an individual network having a designated hub to perform your conference call. However, a lot of you should contact somebody aside from a nearby colleague.

Quick VoIP Conference Call Tip:

Schedule your conference call during non-peak business hours – preferably early in the morning or later at night. This will guarantee that the internet isn’t as busy and won’t interfere with your call or cause distortion.

But when you’re exploring conference calls, remember this: you get what you pay for. Many business pros would not desire to threat hosting their convention calls over a totally free websites as it is not trusted and so they must study paid services.


First half of the Twelve, as they appear during and by the end of A Distrait Life of Mistakes. Plus actual height chart so Karkat’s feud against reality is perfectly understandable. (Second half here.) (Complete height chart here.)

Aradia Megido, 6′6, (Officially) Head of Security aboard the Imperial Battle Cruiser Class A Dream Chaser, The Imperial Moirail. “The Handmaid.” “The Lady Demoness.” 

Tavros Nitram, 8′9, Rear Admiral and Captain of the Imperial Battle Cruiser Class C Neverland, Supreme Commander of the Western Colonies. “The Summoner Reborn.”

Sollux Captor, 7′, Creator and Maintainer of the DIOSCURI (Digital Information, Organization and Security of the Core Uplink and Related Infrastructures) and the GEMINI (General Encrypted Module for the Imperial Network and Intranet) systems, The Imperial Matesprit. “The Ghost in the Wires.”

Karkat Vantas, 5′6, High Chancellor of Alternia and Its Fleet. “The Chancellor.” “The Second Signless.” “The Empress’ Mutant.”

Nepetal Leijon, 7′2, Imperial Laughsassin (Kinda? Maybe?). “The Huntress.”

Kanaya Maryam, 9′3, Head of Cultural Research, Imperial Cultural Advisor. “The Jade Lady.” 

goldcaught  asked:

kc + "the handler and the field agent. the voice in the back of your ear that says, dont you dare right before you blow the whole block up. voice kinks are probably a thing."au !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I always love these Klaroline spies AU’s!

It was a commonly known fact that Niklaus Mikaelson was the best agent to walk the halls of MI6 in the past century. Fluent in six languages, in possession of a natural charm and charisma, the good looking Brit was seemingly the most eligible bachelor this side of Westminster.

Of course, it was also common knowledge that he was also fucking Caroline Forbes, the head of Research and Development at MI6. That knowledge alone was enough to warn off all but the most persistent of women. And some of the men.

“Take a left at your next alleyway.” She says almost boredly, guiding Klaus through a high stakes game that could end with him losing his life. Despite the adrenaline filled situation and the half a dozen pairs of awed eyes currently fixed upon her, she knows in her gut that he’ll get out of this one just fine, and he’ll come swaggering back into MI6 with a couple of scratches like he owns the whole damn place.

“Any pursuers?” He asks teasingly over the comms line, deep voice echoing in her ear and around the room.

Not that she’d ever tell him, but she sort of has a thing for his voice. It’s low and rough and deep, and a part of her thinks the bastard does it on purpose, knows exactly what sort of effect he has on her.

“Plenty.” She replies in clipped tones. “And I’ve been instructed to tell you most emphatically that you are not to get rid of your earpiece on this mission.”

“Most emphatically.” He mimics in that accent of his. “Tell me sweetheart, is Alaric’s instructions or yours?”

She wasn’t supposed to be his handler. As head of R & D, she was tasked with making sure that her co workers were making the state of the art gadgets that MI6 was known around the world for. She also oversaw the intranet and the entire network, tasked with protecting state secrets at all costs. She’d built an impenetrable firewall, and was proud of the fact that she hadn’t had a single security breach while she was in charge.

She’d wandered past the ‘Situation Room’ by accident one morning while she was trying to figure out who’d stolen her last Earl Grey tea bag (special blend, direct from India), when she’d heard the panicked shouting in broken Spanish.

She’d forced her way into the room before anyone could stop her, pushing the handler out of the way and taking over the comms. Klaus the bastard may have been fluent in six languages, but she was fluent in seven, Spanish being just one of them.

She’d fixed up a situation that had almost been fucked up beyond all repair, had guided Klaus to where he needed to go, and had seen him safely out of Northern Spain and on a flight back to England.

He’d come to seek her out as soon as he’d landed. Their first meeting hadn’t gone well, in fact she’d pretty screamed at him for dripping blood all over her cream carpet in the office (the stains were still there).

The rest, as they say, was history. Really Klaus had refused to work with any other handler but herself. She didn’t mind most of the time. It meant a nice bump to her salary and it got her away from R & D every once in a while.

“Mine of course. Take a right and watch out for the goats.” She sips at her coffee as she watches the screen in front of her, snorting comically at the feed from Klaus’ jacket cam as he plunges headlong into the flock of coats being shepherded along by a group of men.

“Something funny?” Klaus asks mildly, only slightly out of breath as he plunges into the admittedly gorgeous open air marketplace.

“Not at all. Have you got the drive?”

“Right here with me.” Klaus replies immediately.

“Good metallic blue Toyota Camry, registration BUE 828 she spells out over the comms. Hand the drive over, 200 metres on your right.”

The world on the screen tilts and whirls crazily as Klaus sprints towards the car in question, finally slowing to a walk as the drive is transferred and the car takes off.

“Good. Now get the hell out of there. Stay on comms.” She instructs just as her earpiece begins to buzz with static and the screen cuts to black.

She doesn’t even hide her anger from the rest of the room as she tears her earpiece out and tosses it on the desk, stalking out of the room in disgust.


He starts leaving her presents once he realises just how much him going off comms pisses her off.

First it’s a prayer scarf from Tibet, then a jewelled makeup box from India. There’s a brightly printed tunic from Dubai and a tartan printed skirt made of real wool from Scotland.

Each time after a mission he turns up on her doorstep with some takeaway and an apologetic smile, and every time she lets him and they fuck each other into the floor, or the mattress, or against the door.

It’s a strange sort of relationship, but she’ll take it over loneliness every single time.


This time it’s Stefan taking the lead with Klaus. She sits beside him still, fingers flying over the keyboard as Stefan chatters away with Klaus in a particular dialect of Arabic that she’s not overly familiar with.

It happens sometimes, she doesn’t know everything. Stefan is pretty much the only other person that Klaus will agree to work with when she can’t for some reason or other.

Alaric hates the fact that Klaus is so demanding (and can get away with being so demanding), but he’s the best, and if it’s going to help him stay alive then so be it. 

Klaus’ younger brother, Henrik Mikaelson is also sitting with them this time. The youngest Mikaelson can do things with a computer that she never even thought possible, and she’d been quick to hire him when he demonstrated step by step exactly how he could take down her impenetrable firewall.

Turns out the kid really wanted a job at MI6.

“Caroline darling are you home tonight? You should put on that black set that makes your breasts-”

“Klaus I’m sitting next to your younger brother. Keep it PG.” She snaps as Henrik blushes a bright red. Stefan gives her a slightly bemused smile, like he’s not sure whether to stay or to take Henrik and give her the comms.

Klaus doesn’t seem to give a shit, switching back to Arabic and saying something that makes Stefan laugh hysterically.

She just grits her teeth together, bending over her keyboard.

It takes two seconds for the tell tale static of her comms to bring her back down to earth.

“Did he fucking rip out his comms again?” She yells at the room in general as Henrik taps furiously at his own laptop.

She stares angrily at the screen. They all see the fiery explosion bloom all around it. They all see everything go black.

Klaus hadn’t ripped his comms out, but something sure as hell did.

Alaric sends them home six hours later when they still can’t raise Klaus. She tries not to let herself get overly worried about the concerned look painted across Alaric’s features.


The banging on her door comes at around three am. She’d always been a light sleeper, and her eyes snap open at the muffled sound echoing though her apartment.

She reaches for her gun she keeps in her nightstand and checks that she’s got enough bullets.

She’s silent as she creeps through the darkened apartment,  not wanting to switch on any lights lest she give away her location. She doesn’t look through the peephole, because lord knows that’s the easiest way to get shot in the head. Instead she presses her ear to the wood of the door and listens for whoever is on the other side.

Their breathing is ragged, it’s loud enough for her to hear that at least. She yanks the door open, shrieking in surprise as all 6'7 of Klaus Mikealson comes tumbling over the threshold, covered in blood as he lets out a pained groan.

“Oh my god.” She drops her gun and reaches for his shirt, hauling him to his feet and dragging him towards the bathroom before he bled all over her floors. “You absolute idiot, I thought you were dead. Why didn’t you get in touch?” She seethes as she deposits him on the edge of the tub, one hand holding him steady as she reaches for her first aid kit.

She’d been trained as a field agent before she’d become head of R & D. Being fluent in seven languages and being able to think remarkably quick on her feet in a high pressure situation meant that she was pretty much perfect for the job. Since however, she had no inclination to get shot at on a daily basis, she’d instead opted for advanced medic training before moving into R & D.

She moves quickly, alarmed at just how much blood Klaus is losing as she cuts through what’s left of his shirt and begins to mop away at the blood.

“Sorry.” Klaus apologises weakly. “Went to medical first but ended up busting my stitches somehow. They were rubbish anyway.”

He’s tired, that is easy enough to see as she finishes cleaning the blood off his chest. She can see exactly where he’s torn his stitches, and she’ll have to undo them and start from scratch.

“Hey.” Klaus says insistently. “Caroline look at me.“ He adds as he grips her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"You can’t keep doing this.” She whispers into the space between them. “I can’t keep doing this if you keep knocking out the comms, leaving me sitting there wondering if you’re going to make it back to me alive or in a coffin draped with a British flag.”

And she hates herself for saying those words, because it starts to blur the lines of whatever the hell they are.

Klaus strokes her cheek with unfocused eyes, and she feels the slick wetness of the blood that he leaves behind. He lets her stitch him up, lets her put him back together.

He fumbles his way out of her bathroom and into her bed, and she tries not to look in the mirror as she cleans the blood off her hands.