Chameth.com - posts like apple-google-aligned-incentives, reverse-engineering-arctis-pro-wireless-headset, understanding-docker-volume-mounts, why-you-should-be-using-https

The Case of the Unchanging Config

2026-04-09T00:00:00Z

Last week I was attempting to make it so I could share pictures on IRC directly from my client. This sounds simple, but it involves a bouncer¹ that proxies the request to a standalone image hosting service that I had to modify to be compatible. At one point my testing loop was:

Make a change to the hosting service
Commit it
Tag a new release
Wait for it to build
Update the version I’m running on my server
Reconfigure the bouncer to pass the new parameter or change the URL or whatever
Try uploading a photo from my phone
Realise I’ve overlooked something and go back to step one

I could have set up a local copy of everything and tested it sensibly. I should have set up a local copy of everything and tested it sensibly. But it seemed like such a trivial change, and setting up the whole environment seemed like such a pain. After the third or so iteration of failure I was pretty annoyed with myself, computers, and basically everything.

My biggest annoyance was that my bouncer would not pick up the new URL from the config when I changed it. It’s meant to reload the config when it receives a SIGHUP, and it claimed to in the logs, but I could clearly see it was still hitting the old URL. Restarting the bouncer to update the config is a pain, as it disconnects me from all the IRC networks, and has to reconnect to them all, reauthenticate, etc. It also mildly spams everyone who shares a channel with me².

When I finally got everything working I had a look at the bouncer source, and thought I’d spotted the issue. I raised a bug report, ending in this remark:

It looks like the config is reloaded properly, but the handler for uploads is created once at startup and has its own copy of the uploader, so effectively snapshots the config to whatever it is at startup:

fileUploadHandler := http.HandlerFunc(func(w http.ResponseWriter, r *http.Request) {
    cfg := srv.Config()
    h := fileupload.Handler{
        Uploader:    cfg.FileUploader,
        DB:          db,
        Auth:        cfg.Auth,
        HTTPOrigins: cfg.HTTPOrigins,
    }
    h.ServeHTTP(w, r)
})

I’m not quite sure what I thought I saw there, but that’s not right. I want to call it a hallucination, but that feels like a very overloaded word these days. I guess I was just seeing what I wanted to see, and that was a good excuse to stop investigating. Still, even if I misidentified the cause, the bug was still present, right? … Right?

The Science of Deduction

When the developer got back and said he couldn’t reproduce my issue, I went back to my install and immediately reproduced it. With a calmer head, I figured it was probably something with my particular set up. First thing to check: am I actually running the version I think I am?

Unfortunately the bouncer doesn’t actually seem to expose the version anywhere that I can see. It’s not in the logs, it doesn’t have a -version flag, and none of the IRC-based status commands seem to include it. But I know it’s a Go app, and I know Go embeds the version information. go version -m <binary> will dump it all out, but the binary is inside a Docker image, and the Docker image is one of my nice, minimal, artisanal ones so doesn’t ship a go binary. No problem, docker compose cp bouncer:/bnc ./bnc yoinks the binary out of the container, and then dumping the version shows that, yes, I am running the version I thought I was. Hmm.

The next tool I reached for in my toolbox was strace. Maybe it’s not actually reading the file for some reason? I immediately executed strace -p <pid> -e trace=openat,open,read,pread64 -f without having to look any part of that up. Yep. Definitely. Then I edited the config, HUP’d the bouncer, and saw that it was… reading the config file. As it’s meant to. By default strace truncates strings to 32 bytes, so I couldn’t actually see the line I’d changed. Some more definitely-not-RTFMing later, and rerunning it with an extra -s 65536 let me see the full config. Surprise! The config hadn’t changed!

To confirm my findings, I used docker compose cp again, this time yoinking the config file from inside the container. The inside config file was definitely different to the outside config file. What? My hypothesis at this point was “something something Docker nonsense”. I mount the config as read-only, and was wondering if that meant that Docker was doing something weird instead of just bind mounting it. A quick trip to /proc/<pid>/mounts showed that it was, in fact, not doing anything weird, and was just bind mounting it.

If the file is bind mounted, then surely it’s the same file? I ran stat on the file on the host, noted the inode number, then pondered how to actually run stat on the file inside the container, given the aforementioned awkwardly minimal image. The solution was easy: access it via /proc/<pid>/root/. I could’ve saved myself a bunch of docker compose cp if I’d thought about that earlier. Oh well. The inode of that file was different. What?

The answer was DNS. It’s always DNS. Oh, sorry, force of habit. I meant the answer was vim. I was editing the config in vim, and when it saves files, by default, it writes the new content to a temporary file and does an atomic rename. That’s normally a good thing: it prevents corruption if the write fails midway through³. In this case, though, that means the new file has a new inode. Bind mounting a file binds to the inode, so the container just keeps clutching onto the original config from when it was started, blissfully unaware that the party has relocated down the street.

This problem is likely to happen whenever you bind mount a file into a container. When I mentioned this to a friend, he immediately responded “oh yeah, never do that”, and went on to describe the horrible hacks he’s had to add to Ansible to sidestep the issue. The nicer solution is to just bind mount an entire directory if you can, as then it doesn’t matter what happens to the files within it. I really like having the config files sat alongside the Docker compose files, though; having to create a directory just to work around some bind mount weirdness upsets me.

Now I knew what the problem was, I found there was an issue raised against Docker twelve years ago⁴. The first response was “that’s expected”, and I fully agree with the author: “respectfully, that might be expected by you, but it was not expected by me”!⁵ As a result of the issue they added a nice note to the docs:

Note: Many tools used to edit files including vi and sed --in-place may result in an inode change. Since Docker v1.1.0, this will produce an error such as “sed: cannot rename ./sedKdJ9Dy: Device or resource busy”. In the case where you want to edit the mounted file, it is often easiest to instead mount the parent directory.

But in the intervening twelve years, both the note and the functionality described have gone missing. Ho-hum.

I found it interesting how I’ve only just hit this problem, given how long I’ve used Docker. But I realised that almost everything I run I’m happy to just restart. Cattle, not pets, and so on. My IRC bouncer is one of the few exceptions to that. The only other thing I regularly hot reloaded was Centauri, my reverse proxy, but that had a whole config directory mounted because it was shared between containers, so nicely sidestepped the foot-gun.

So lesson learnt: check for weird bind mount issues before raising issues about config hot reloading. It’ll join the esteemed company of “maybe the drive is full and causing completely unrelated problems?”, “perhaps everything is dog slow because the kernel ran out of entropy?”, and “did systemd sneakily take over that functionality while you weren’t looking?” in the troubleshooting checklist.

An IRC bouncer is basically an always-on proxy. It connects to the IRC networks for you, then your clients connect to your bouncer. The bouncer can then send incoming messages to all your different clients, cache them when you’re offline and replay them later, and lots of other nice things people take for granted in their chat apps these days. ↩︎
Join/part/quit spam is part of IRC, and clients have ways of handling it, but I still feel bad about doing it excessively. ↩︎
You can disable this in vim by setting backupcopy=yes. Good luck redoing all the debugging if you ever accidentally remove that from your vimrc, though! ↩︎
Which is weird, because Docker can’t possibly be that old. That would make me much older than I’m prepared to accept. ↩︎
If you read the thread they didn’t actually mean to sound so dismissive, but it’s still pretty funny. “Yes, it’s expected that the foot-gun causes your foot to hurt. Duh. What did you expect?” ↩︎

How tech companies failed to build the Star Trek computer

2025-07-16T00:00:00Z

A computer core room on the Enterprise-D

In most Star Trek series, the ship or station computer is ever-present in the background, waiting to be called on by the main characters¹. It nearly always does exactly the right thing, and there’s little limit to the functions it can perform. Take this mundane example from DS9:

KIRA: Computer, establish link with the Bajoran Medical Index for the Northwestern District.
COMPUTER: Link established.
KIRA: Access all information on Doctor Surmak Ren.
COMPUTER: There are no records matching that name.
KIRA: Try the Northeastern District, same search.
COMPUTER: Doctor Surmak Ren, currently serving as Chief Administrator of the Ilvian Medical Complex.
KIRA: Computer, open a channel to the Ilvian Medical Complex. Administrator’s office.

The computer is doing some kind of networking to a database only identified by name. It does a search and summarises the lack of results. It then repeats the process with another database, and succinctly announces the results. Finally, it opens a communication channel to a specific room in a facility, based only on its name.

This whole interaction is remarkably boring². Kira doesn’t have to know any URLs or API endpoints, or what protocol she wants to use. She doesn’t have to open a specific app and then login and then try the query again. She just says what she wants and the computer does it.

It seems like this should be one of the most easily obtainable bits of sci-fi wizardry with our current technology. We have multiple massive companies throwing lots of money at digital assistants, LLMs that are improving at an insane rate, but we’re somehow not even close to the usability or usefulness of the Trek computers. What gives?

Boring is, well, boring.

Larry Page once said something that might help explain it:

The Star Trek computer doesn’t seem that interesting. They ask it random questions, it thinks for a while. I think we can do better than that.

This is the same Larry Page that founded Google, whose mission statement is “to organize the world’s information and make it universally accessible and useful”. Of all people, surely he should find an omnipresent computer that can answer ‘random questions’ interesting?! It seems like it should be the epitome of Google’s mission!

Google’s “better than that” seems to have been to stuff LLMs into every product they can, even when you don’t want them there. Even when they’re worse than the normal content they displace. These things look exciting when they’re part of a scripted demo at Google I/O, but they fall flat and just get in the way when they’re exposed to the reality of day-to-day use.

The Star Trek computer is the opposite: it isn’t snazzy, but it is genuinely useful. That means it’s not an attractive target for the company execs who want marketing opportunities, and it’s not appealing for engineers who need to demonstrate “impact”. But even if Google did try to make the Trek computer, there are other problems…

Assistants need to be free

A significant amount of tech companies’ business models currently revolves around trapping users in walled gardens. They want you using their ecosystem; that way they get more data from you, and you’re more likely to spend more money on their other offerings that work together. There’s barely any incentive to allow any kind of interoperability with other platforms outside carefully contracted integrations.

I remember trying to help a family member move their photos from iCloud to Google Photos. At one point they turned around and said, exasperated, “why is this so hard? Aren’t they both in the cloud?!”. It’s easy to dismiss that as someone who hasn’t quite grasped the fundamental idea that “the cloud” is just someone else’s computers, but that’s not the whole story. There’s no reason why there shouldn’t be a quick and easy transfer: both services already allow uploading and downloading, there’s just no incentive for the companies involved to make it so³.

These kinds of misaligned incentives and walled garden business models cause even more problems when it comes to digital assistants. Siri is basically never going to be able to interact with, say, your Google Drive; ~~Bard~~ Gemini is never going to be able to send a message via iMessage. Even when there are appropriately blessed interactions, they’re so clunky. Can you imagine Captain Picard saying “Computer, ask the turbolift skill to take me to deck 5”?

Someone else’s computer

Software issues aside, there’s still a key difference between the Star Trek computers and our current batch of digital assistants: where they run. The Trek computers are all housed within the ship or station they serve; they can connect elsewhere to gather information, but they run entirely independently. If they go wrong, a local engineer can go in and fix things. While some of our assistants may have physical hardware in your home, they don’t work without a vast cloud apparatus behind them. If your Internet connection fails, they become paperweights. If the company running them decide to remove some functionality you depend on, you have no recourse.

That kind of helplessness isn’t limited to assistants, either. There’s a rapidly growing trend of being unable to modify or repair hardware you fully own and control. Part of this is just that they’re becoming more complex: it’s a lot harder to replace a microchip than a gear, but companies are also going out of their way to make it more difficult for users through draconian DRM regimes⁴ and aggressive intellectual property enforcement. If the US Navy can’t repair their own equipment because a corporation says so, what hope do consumers have?

We’re approaching a point where you don’t actually own anything. Software is cloud and subscription based, hardware is unrepairable. Even cars can be remotely updated and have features added or removed. The Federation wouldn’t allow a third party control over their ships⁵, so why are we so happy to put up with it in everything we consume?

A small ray of hope?

The most promising way of tackling all of these problems is through legislation. The EU’s Digital Market Act is an attempt to force ‘gatekeepers’ like Google, Apple and Meta, to allow third-party access to their services. It seems like a pretty reasonable approach, but the tech companies are unsurprisingly resisting it. Apple in particular have gone out of their way to refuse to comply, and when forced to do so have limited the functionality to people in Europe. Still, the DMA is a promising start, and if similar legislation is introduced (and robustly enforced) elsewhere it might start forcing companies to behave a bit better.

There are also smaller companies that actually do the right thing. Framework make laptops that are user-serviceable; Fairphone do the same for mobile phones. Smaller software companies provide useful, open APIs. The average person on the street will probably have never heard of these, unfortunately, but they do still exist. Maybe as the bigger tech companies tighten the screws more, people will turn to alternatives like this? Or maybe we’ll just keep accepting that our computers work for everyone but us?

Unless, of course, the computer is playing the role of the episode’s MacGuffin and has contracted space-computer-COVID or something, then it’s a lot less in-the-background. ↩︎
It’s almost like it only exists to move the plot along. ↩︎
You can generally export your data, thanks to a combination of legislation and efforts like Google’s “Data Liberation Front”, but I’ve never seen an export format that could then just be imported into an equivalent commercial product. ↩︎
Oh, you’ve changed the screen on your iPhone? Better hope it can do the secret handshake with the Apple hardware. ↩︎
I think there might actually have been an episode where that did in fact happen. We’ll just ignore that as a plot contrivance. ↩︎

Reverse engineering an Arctis Pro Wireless Headset

2021-06-12T00:00:00Z

The Arctis Pro Wireless Headset.

For the last year and a bit, I’ve been using a SteelSeries Arctis Pro Wireless Headset for gaming and talking to friends. It’s a fine headset, but because there’s an always-on receiver there’s no way to detect if the headset is turned on or not from the desktop.

Whenever I start using the headset, I set my desktop’s sound to go to the headset, and then when I stop using the headset I set it to go back to speakers. It doesn’t take more than a second, but some days I might put the headset on a dozen times as I’m on calls, or if it’s noisy outside, etc. That means it’s probably worth at least a few hours of my time trying to automate it.

At first, I hoped I’d be able to tell from the state of the USB device whether there was a headset connected but nothing at all changed when flipping it on and off. Then I went hunting for existing open source tools that might work with it and found that while people have reverse engineered many of the older Arctis headsets, no one has done the same for the Pro Wireless. I finished off with a search to see if anyone had documented the wire protocol even if there was no nice open source software to go with it; I came up short there, too. Looks like I’d have to do it myself.

Capturing data with WireShark

The headset exposes a Human Interface Device (HID), and the wire protocols for earlier versions of the Arctis series looked to be very simple messages passed over the HID connection. It should therefore be fairly easy to use WireShark to capture the data being sent and received by the official SteelSeries application¹.

After setting up WireShark and making it record only the headset’s HID connection, it quickly became apparent that the software was sending three different requests each second, over and over again:

Wireshark, showing a packet capture of a SET_REPORT request from the host to the headset

The packets we’re interested in are the SET_REPORT Request frames sent from the host to the device. Wireshark understands the HID protocol, so it nicely shows us the raw HID data; in the screenshot this is 0x40AA (ignoring the trailing zero bytes). The other requests sent immediately after have 0x41AA and 0x42AA payloads — clearly the first byte is indicating which piece of data is being requested.

The responses to these requests come back in an URB_INTERRUPT in frame:

Wireshark, showing a packet capture of the headset’s response to the earlier request

So the answer to our first request appears to be 0x04. The second response is 0x0402 and the third is 0x04 again. The first thing I tried doing was popping the spare battery out of the charger. The response to the 0x42AA request changed from 0x04 to 0x00 - that’s certainly clear enough! After a bit of waiting around, the battery in my headset dropped from full on the display to three bars, and at that point the 0x40AA response dropped from 0x04 to 0x03. The display on the receiver shows battery state as four bars, and it appears the wire protocol directly corresponds to that particular representation.

That left the 0x41AA request as an unknown. I tried everything I could think of, but it stubbornly kept returning 0x0402. I enlisted a friend who has the same headset to run some hacky Go code and report his values, and he also got a 0x0402 response. As I explained that I couldn’t figure out what these values are, he reported back that turning his headset off made the response change to 0x0202. In all my testing, I’d forgotten to try turning the headset off! That’s the one thing I was actually trying to detect, as well. Thanks, Simon, for helping me get past that bit of stupidity!

I still don’t know what the second byte of the response is, or whether there are other values than 0x04 for on and 0x02 for off, but I’m happy enough to label it as “device status” and move on.

Exploring other features

The software allows you to tweak a bunch of different settings:

SteelSeries Good Game software, showing the advanced headset settings

I went through each one and fiddled with all the values, recording the requests in WireShark as I did so. It turns out the protocol is very simplistic - the wire protocol directly corresponds to the UI elements in the software (or on the receiver, if you navigate through its menus). For example, the software allows you to set the “Headset auto shutoff” value in increments of 10 minutes. You might usually expect this to be converted to seconds or something similar before being passed to the device, but on the wire it’s actually sent as 0x00 for off, 0x01 for 10 minutes, up through to 0x0C for the maximum of 120 minutes.

All the dropdown options seem to function this way — if you pick the 6th option then the request payload will be an 0x06 byte. The sliders have fixed positions they snap to and function similarly: for the two brightness sliders pictured they snap to 11 positions and on the wire these range from 0x00 for off to 0x0A for the maximum.

At this point I was well past my goal of being able to detect whether the headset was on or off, and I was now just trying to see if I could figure out enough of the protocol that I could reimplement the control software on Linux if I ever wanted to. Just as I was about to close the app, something caught my eye: there are integrations with games and other software that can display information on the receiver’s OLED display!

There’s an official API for this, but it involves sending JSON to a webserver which runs as part of their app². That doesn’t feel very nice, and definitely won’t work for me on Linux, so I started a new WireShark session and took some captures while I spoke to myself on Discord.

Decoding pixels

The frames sent to the device whenever Discord showed a notification had a 1060 byte payload. The display on the receiver is 140 pixels wide³ and each pixel can only seem to be on or off, so I figured each bit in the payload corresponded to one bit of the output. I exported the data to binary in the hope that I could visually see what was going on - in theory if I line wrap the data at 140 characters it should look vaguely like the final output. Unfortunately, it did not. There was roughly the right number of high bits, but no amount of fiddling with them in a text editor could give me a coherent picture.

Instead, I wrote some code to write different values to the device. Starting with a payload of all zeroes and gradually increasing a bit at a time every second. After the first few seconds, I saw a line of pixels being drawn downwards on the left of the screen; had I just got the axes the wrong way around? After the first eight pixels lit up, though, they jumped over to the next column. The actual addressing scheme looks something like this:

Diagram of how pixels are addressed on the receiver’s OLED display

So the first 140 bytes given the pixels for the first 8 rows, the next 140 bytes fill in the 8 rows below that, and so on and so forth. Armed with this information I wrote a simple program to read an image and output it to the display:

Headset receiver displaying a custom Hello World message

At this point I was thinking about trying to get Doom rendering on the screen, but I couldn’t find anything nicely hackable that would let me grab the output and pass it on to the receiver. Instead, I decided to try a GIF decoder and before very long had a nice little animated display:

Protocol reference

All the HID messages have a single byte that determines the message type, then an 0xAA byte, then any payload required by the command. These are the ones I’ve figured out:

Byte	Command	Payload
`0x09`	Save changes	None.
`0x10`	Request firmware version(?)	None.
`0x27`	Volume limiter	`0x00` for off, `0x01` for on.
`0x2E`	Equalizer preset	ID of the equalizer preset to use.
`0x39`	Sidetone level	`0x00` for lowest to `0x09` for highest.
`0x3C`	Set headset timeout	Timeout, as a number of 10 minutes. `0x00` for off to `0x0C` for 120 mins.
`0x3E`	Mic mute LED brightness	`0x00` for lowest to `0x0A` for highest.
`0x40`	Request headset battery	None.
`0x41`	Request device status	None.
`0x42`	Request receiver battery	None.
`0x51`	Surround sound mode	`0x00` for off, `0x01` for on.
`0x62`	Auto-start Bluetooth	`0x00` for off, `0x01` for on.
`0x63`	Auto-mute game audio during calls	`0x00` for off, `0x01` for on.
`0x85`	OLED brightness	`0x00` for lowest to `0x0A` for highest.
`0x83`	Equalizer	(Not yet decoded)
`0x89`	Screensaver mode	`0x00` to dim, `0x01` for off, `0x02` for screensaver.
`0xD2`	Render image	Pixel array as described above.

Some of these I’ve not dug too much into because they didn’t seem very interesting. If you have an Arctis Pro Wireless and figure anything more out, let me know, and I’ll update the list.

If you just want to check device state like I originally did, I’ve contributed support for this headset to the excellent HeadsetControl project. It should be in the next release.

Unfortunately (as you’d expect) their application only runs on Windows, so this process involved an annoying amount of rebooting to Windows, fleeing back to Linux, and then realising I hadn’t actually recorded enough to figure it out and repeating. ↩︎
You can also send lisp to the webserver, and it will execute it. No comment. ↩︎
I know this not because it’s mentioned in the technical specs (it’s not), but because I took a photo and counted them out one by one. ↩︎

Apple, Google and aligned incentives

2020-10-17T00:00:00Z

The HTC Dream, the first phone released running Android.

For the past decade I’ve exclusively used Android phones. I got the HTC Dream (aka the T-Mobile G1) shortly after it came out, and dutifully upgraded every 1-2 years. In that timespan I used Android as the basis for my Master’s Thesis, took a job on the Android team at Google, and eventually became a contractor specialising in Android app development. So when I switched to using an iPhone earlier this year a few people were surprised¹.

The good old days

When Android was announced in 2007 – alongside the formation of the Open Handset Alliance – it was positioned as a bastion of openness: it would be built on open standards and the operating system would be open source. At the time iPhones were strongly coupled to iTunes and Apple was exercising strict control over what app developers could do.

When the HTC Dream was released it lived up to expectations. You could write apps for it without shelling out for a Mac! You could get root access, and it was running Linux under the hood! A whole ecosystem of custom firmwares and bootloaders started to appear, thanks to the open source nature of the OS. It shipped with some Google apps, but they were just normal apps that served as examples of what could be done.

After the Dream came a line of Nexus devices. These were Android’s flagship devices, designed to show off what a good Android phone should look like. Both the hardware and software releases tended to feature interesting, useful upgrades. Some of the original open source apps were replaced with closed source, Google proprietary ones, but that was OK - the open source versions lived on in the open source project as examples of what you could do. The devices allowed flashing custom firmware, and the OS source was always released… eventually.

The downfall

The Pixel and Pixel XL

Over time, Android has got less and less free. The Nexus line of phones gave way to the Pixel range, which got rid of the clearly demarcated border where Android ended and Google began. The Android 11 highlights list is dotted with sections that say “On Pixel devices…”, and every single one is a software feature that could be implemented on any device, but Google have decided to keep it proprietary instead of releasing it as part of the open source platform.

At the same time more and more functionality has been added to Google Play Services. This was originally a shared location for Google specific services - in 2012 it merely handled some Google+ functionality and dealing with OAuth for Google accounts. These days it contains a huge swathe of Google services, as well as platform functionality such as push notifications, barcode scanning, geolocation, and so on. Google Play Services isn’t part of the Android Open Source Project, and is only available under license from Google. You can’t really have a device without these functions, so as a manufacturer you have the choice between agreeing to whatever terms Google requires² or spending an awful lot of development time creating an alternative.

While these are fairly abstract arguments about what a free platform should look like, during the same period there has been a marked restriction in how you can actually use Android devices – both as an end-user and as a developer. iOS has always had very stark restrictions on what apps can do in the background; Android started its life allowing pretty much anything, like any good general purpose computing device. This inevitably lead to lots of apps doing lots of things that ranged from stupid to mildly suboptimal, creating a tragedy of the commons amongst apps. The victim was the phone’s battery life, and Google’s solution was a progressive series of restrictions on what apps can do and when. This includes limits on when push notifications are delivered to a device, how frequently apps can wake up, and so forth. Some of these can be bypassed by the end-user, but not all, and the process is fairly cumbersome.

Aligned incentives

From my point of view, Android and iOS are now pretty much in a similar place. They’re not general purpose computers, but app consoles: much like games consoles they consist of hardware and software that the user lacks control over but accepts in order to access the library of apps/games.

Given there’s no clear winner between them in terms of hardware and software, my decision came down to a more holistic question: how aligned are their incentives to my own? Apple is a product company: they make their money by producing shiny things that people want to purchase; Google is an advertising company: they make their money by using my personal information to show me targeted adverts.

For Google, Android was originally a strategic move to ensure that Apple couldn’t dominate the mobile web, and by extension the revenue from ads. As a company, there’s nothing to really push them forward in any particular direction other than one that facilitates advertising. Of course, Google employs tonnes of good people who want to do good things which counterbalances this, but I’d still prefer to deal with a company that has an intrinsic motivation to do things I want them to do, rather than one forced to by regulation, custom, or the good intent of their employees.

So the decision became obvious: if I have no strong opinions about the software and hardware, Apple is the clear winner because their incentives are a lot better aligned to mine.

Image credits

Photo	Creator	Licence	Source
HTC Dream	Akela NDE	CC BY-SA 3.0	Wikimedia
Pixel and Pixel XL	Maurizio Pesce from Milan, Italia	CC BY 2.0	Wikimedia

Or, at least, politely feigned surprise. ↩︎
And Google’s terms were particularly onerous: as well as requiring Chrome and Google Search to be preinstalled, they prevented manufacturers from selling any devices powered by alternative versions of Android - e.g., Samsung wouldn’t be allowed to sell a refrigerator that ran Amazon’s FireOS. The European Union handed Google a $5,000,000,000 fine for this anti-competitive behaviour, which Google are still in the process of contesting. ↩︎

Understanding Docker volume mounts

2019-04-01T00:00:00Z

The Docker project logo

One thing that always confuses me with Docker is how exactly mounting volumes behaves. At a basic level it’s fairly straight forward: you declare a volume in a Dockerfile, and then either explicitly mount something there or docker automatically creates an anonymous volume for you. Done. But it turns out there’s quite a few edge cases…

Changing ownership of the folder

Perhaps the most common operation done on a Docker volume other than simply mounting it is trying to change the ownership of the directory. If your Docker process runs as a certain user you probably want the directory to be writable by that user.

At first we might try something like:

FROM alpine
RUN adduser -D -u 1113 test123
USER test123
VOLUME /testing

But changing the user doesn’t seem to have any effect on the volume. Why? Checking the docs for the USER instruction shows that only affects certain future operations — namely RUN, CMD, and ENTRYPOINT. It doesn’t affect the VOLUME instruction; if it did, you’d probably just get a permission denied error unless the user you switch to had privileges to create mount points.

OK, so instead we might try using the good old chown command:

FROM alpine
RUN adduser -D -u 1113 test123
VOLUME /testing
RUN chown test123 /testing

But again, the directory is just owned by root at runtime. Back to the docs, this time for the VOLUME instruction and towards the bottom is this little tidbit:

Changing the volume from within the Dockerfile: If any build steps change the data within the volume after it has been declared, those changes will be discarded.

As soon as Docker hits the VOLUME instruction the directory becomes a mount point, and anything we do to the temporary volume mounted there is discarded during the build process. So we have to change the ownership before the instruction, which may seem a little counter-intuitive:

FROM alpine
RUN adduser -D -u 1113 test123
RUN mkdir /testing && chown test123 /testing
VOLUME /testing

Now when the container runs, the /testing directory is owned by the test123 user. It’s not quite over, yet, though. This works if we let Docker create a volume automatically for us, or if we create a named volume and mount that; if we try and mount a host directory, though, it falls flat:

$ docker run --rm -it -v "$PWD/testing:/testing" testing ls -al /testing
total 8
drwxr-xr-x    2 1000     1000          4096 Apr  1 19:39 .
drwxr-xr-x    1 root     root          4096 Apr  1 20:44 ..

Docker handles mounting host directories differently to mounting volumes, even though the syntax is basically the same. Host directories are bind mounted directly into the container, so the permissions and ownership are the same as the directory on your host. The only way to fix them are to either change the permissions on the host, or have the container change them at runtime (assuming it has sufficient privileges).

One final wrinkle in all this happens when you use the same volume in multiple containers. Here we have two images built from the Dockerfile above, one with userid 1113 and one with userid 1114:

$ docker volume create testing
testing

$ docker run --rm -it -v testing:/testing testing1113 ls -nal /testing
total 8
drwxr-xr-x    2 1113     0             4096 Apr  1 19:49 .
drwxr-xr-x    1 0        0             4096 Apr  1 20:51 ..

$ docker run --rm -it -v testing:/testing testing1114 ls -nal /testing
total 8
drwxr-xr-x    2 1114     0             4096 Apr  1 20:47 .
drwxr-xr-x    1 0        0             4096 Apr  1 20:52 ..

$ docker run --rm -it -v testing:/testing testing1114 touch /testing/Hello

$ docker run --rm -it -v testing:/testing testing1113 ls -nal /testing
total 8
drwxr-xr-x    2 1114     0             4096 Apr  1 20:52 .
drwxr-xr-x    1 0        0             4096 Apr  1 20:53 ..
-rw-r--r--    1 0        0                0 Apr  1 20:52 Hello

$ docker run --rm -it -v testing:/testing testing1114 ls -nal /testing
total 8
drwxr-xr-x    2 1114     0             4096 Apr  1 20:52 .
drwxr-xr-x    1 0        0             4096 Apr  1 20:52 ..
-rw-r--r--    1 0        0                0 Apr  1 20:52 Hello

Can you see what’s going on? When the volume is empty, the ownership changes based on the mount point in the container. Once it has something in it, the ownership is fixed.

So Docker behaves differently with regard to permissions:

when the folder is mounted from the host vs a volume
when the volume is empty vs having content

Pre-populating mounts with files from the image

One of the more esoteric features of the way Docker handles volume mounts is that in some cases files from the image are copied over into the container. For example:

$ docker volume create testing
testing

$ docker run --rm -it -v testing:/etc testing sleep 1

$ docker run --rm -it -v testing:/tmp testing ls -al /tmp
total 184
drwxr-xr-x   15 root     root          4096 Apr  1 20:58 .
drwxr-xr-x    1 root     root          4096 Apr  1 20:59 ..
-rw-r--r--    1 root     root             4 Jun  7  2018 TZ
-rw-r--r--    1 root     root             6 Dec 20 21:31 alpine-release
...

The first container we run mounts the newly created testing volume at /etc. Docker copies all the existing files and folders into the volume; when we then run the second container with the volume mounted at /tmp, we can see all the files that were in the first container’s /etc.

As with permissions, this behaviour is anything but consistent. Say we switch from a volume to a host directory:

$ mkdir testing
$ docker run --rm -it -v "$PWD/testing:/usr/bin" testing sleep 1
$ ls -al testing
total 8
drwxr-xr-x 2 root  root  4096 Apr  1 22:05 .
drwxr-xr-x 3 chris chris 4096 Apr  1 22:05 ..

Nothing is copied in, and inside the container the folder will be empty. Based on our discoveries with permissions, it’s reasonable to assume the same will happen with a non-empty volume too:

$ docker volume create testing
testing

$ docker run --rm -it -v testing:/testing testing touch /testing/Hello

$ docker run --rm -it -v testing:/usr/bin testing sleep 1

$ docker run --rm -it -v testing:/tmp testing ls -al /tmp
total 8
drwxr-xr-x    2 root     root          4096 Apr  1 21:09 .
drwxr-xr-x    1 root     root          4096 Apr  1 21:09 ..
-rw-r--r--    1 root     root             0 Apr  1 21:08 Hello

So at least that’s consistent. If you’re very observant, though, you might notice I switched from /etc/ to /usr/bin in the examples. That’s because within the container /etc/ has some files bind-mounted into it, such as /etc/resolv.conf, and these do always result in files being created in the mounted volumes or folders:

$ mkdir testing
$ docker run --rm -it -v "$PWD/testing:/etc" testing sleep 1
$ ls -al testing
total 8
drwxr-xr-x 2 chris chris 4096 Apr  1 22:12 .
drwxr-xr-x 3 chris chris 4096 Apr  1 22:12 ..
-rwxr-xr-x 1 root  root     0 Apr  1 22:12 hostname
-rwxr-xr-x 1 root  root     0 Apr  1 22:12 hosts
-rwxr-xr-x 1 root  root     0 Apr  1 22:12 resolv.conf

Summary

Docker treats mounting host folders and mounting volumes differently. Don’t just assume that you can swap one for another and get the exact same behaviour.
Empty volumes will inherit permissions and files from the image they are mounted in; non-empty volumes and host folders will not.
Relying on Docker copying files into volumes is a very bad idea, as if you change those files in a future version of your image they will not be copied unless the volume is deleted and recreated.

I can’t find anywhere that these points are documented properly; if you know of anywhere, please drop me a message!