Great article today on Wi-Fi htospots in San Francisco, courtesy of Doug Fleener, by way of the Wall St. Journal:
San Francisco 94110
Is Really a Hot Spot,
My Wi-Fi Tour Shows
May 24, 2004; Page B1
After spending the better part of a week methodically, albeit figuratively, peeking though my neighbors' walls, I can't shake the thought: Why can't we all just get along?
If you're one of the millions of people who have bought a wireless computer networking product lately, you very probably, in the process of setting it up, detected other Wi-Fi products belonging to your neighbors. This happens because Wi-Fi signals can travel several hundred feet. When I got my first wireless network two years ago, mine was the only one. Now, I can "hear" three others, just from my living room.
I wondered: If there are three right around my house, how many are there in my neighborhood? I set about finding out, though with an expansive definition of neighborhood: my entire ZIP Code, San Francisco's 94110.
For this census, I used my laptop computer equipped with a wireless Wi-Fi card, as well as a free program called Netstumbler, which listens for Wi-Fi devices and keeps a log of what it finds.
There is nothing remotely illegal or improper about this. Wi-Fi products, as part of their normal operations, freely transmit information about themselves. Marius Milner, the author of Netstumbler, says using the program is analogous to driving around and recording the addresses of all the houses that have their street numbers posted out front.
Note that simply detecting the presence of a wireless network doesn't mean you can access the computers connected to it or can use it to go online. If the owner of the network has turned on encryption, as is highly recommended, the actual contents and operation of the network will be shielded from your view. (I discover that fully half of my neighbors take this step, far more than I would have guessed.)
I set out driving, back and forth, for many long hours. (How do cabbies do it?) While I was only logging technical information about the networks I was encountering, I learned that sometimes, the technical can also be personal. When you set up a home wireless network, you can, if you want, give it a name. Many of the names I was seeing -- 2boysNlove, imaginaryfriend, DONTBOTHER -- made me feel as though I was eavesdropping on other folks' somewhat personal affairs.
The undertaking also provided a window into the ways that society and technology intersect. Netstumbler makes a bonging sound every time it detects a network. In Bernal Heights, chock full of Volvo-driving Kerry voters, it was bong-bong-bong, virtually one for every house. My laptop was quieter in the flatlands of the Inner Mission, home to working-class Hispanic families living in three-story apartment buildings. And in the public-housing projects on Justin Drive next to the freeway, it was utterly silent.
In the end, I counted about 3,000 wireless networks in my ZIP Code. The 2003 population of 94110 was 75,000, meaning we have one Wi-Fi access point for every 25 people.
For my project, I had borrowed from my neighbor Brian Warner, a famous programmer in the Python computer language, a small GPS receiver that plugged into my laptop and recorded the locations of all the networks I was seeing. When I was done, I made a map of them.
With a lot of help from the folks at ESRI, a mapping-software company, I added to the maps a bit. For instance, I calculated per capita wireless ownership by census tract, and then mapped it. I also mapped average household income. It's no surprise the two are highly correlated.
In fact, the more affluent parts of my ZIP Code had nearly 10 times as many hot spots, per capita, as less tony areas. It's the old-fashioned digital divide, updated to the age of wireless.
In the early days of Wi-Fi, buffs would drive around like I did -- they call it "war driving" -- and look for "hot spots," delighted each time they found a new one, meaning, perhaps, a chance to get on the Internet free of charge. Now, if you look at my map, you quickly realize that by now, the entire city has become one big hot spot. Soon, much of the world will be.
But these devices aren't yet living up to their full potential. Currently, none of the Wi-Fi networks on my map talk to each other; they are all little islands onto themselves. Networking engineers, though, are laying the groundwork for something called "mesh networking," which would take all of the devices you can see on my map and connect them into a single, cohesive system.
You would still have network security, but you could, if you wanted, allow network traffic besides yours to hop around using your Wi-Fi gear. Cellphone networks work this way; so does the entire Internet, to a certain extent. The advantage to you of having network devices cooperate like this? The system would be there for you when you went out walking or even driving.
Mesh networks are expected to start appearing in two or so years, and I can't wait. Imagine the fireworks when BigGreenOnBosworth runs into BIGMOUTH_STRIKES_AGAIN.
Check out the map!
San Francisco 94110
Is Really a Hot Spot,
My Wi-Fi Tour Shows
May 24, 2004; Page B1
After spending the better part of a week methodically, albeit figuratively, peeking though my neighbors' walls, I can't shake the thought: Why can't we all just get along?
If you're one of the millions of people who have bought a wireless computer networking product lately, you very probably, in the process of setting it up, detected other Wi-Fi products belonging to your neighbors. This happens because Wi-Fi signals can travel several hundred feet. When I got my first wireless network two years ago, mine was the only one. Now, I can "hear" three others, just from my living room.
I wondered: If there are three right around my house, how many are there in my neighborhood? I set about finding out, though with an expansive definition of neighborhood: my entire ZIP Code, San Francisco's 94110.
For this census, I used my laptop computer equipped with a wireless Wi-Fi card, as well as a free program called Netstumbler, which listens for Wi-Fi devices and keeps a log of what it finds.
There is nothing remotely illegal or improper about this. Wi-Fi products, as part of their normal operations, freely transmit information about themselves. Marius Milner, the author of Netstumbler, says using the program is analogous to driving around and recording the addresses of all the houses that have their street numbers posted out front.
Note that simply detecting the presence of a wireless network doesn't mean you can access the computers connected to it or can use it to go online. If the owner of the network has turned on encryption, as is highly recommended, the actual contents and operation of the network will be shielded from your view. (I discover that fully half of my neighbors take this step, far more than I would have guessed.)
I set out driving, back and forth, for many long hours. (How do cabbies do it?) While I was only logging technical information about the networks I was encountering, I learned that sometimes, the technical can also be personal. When you set up a home wireless network, you can, if you want, give it a name. Many of the names I was seeing -- 2boysNlove, imaginaryfriend, DONTBOTHER -- made me feel as though I was eavesdropping on other folks' somewhat personal affairs.
The undertaking also provided a window into the ways that society and technology intersect. Netstumbler makes a bonging sound every time it detects a network. In Bernal Heights, chock full of Volvo-driving Kerry voters, it was bong-bong-bong, virtually one for every house. My laptop was quieter in the flatlands of the Inner Mission, home to working-class Hispanic families living in three-story apartment buildings. And in the public-housing projects on Justin Drive next to the freeway, it was utterly silent.
In the end, I counted about 3,000 wireless networks in my ZIP Code. The 2003 population of 94110 was 75,000, meaning we have one Wi-Fi access point for every 25 people.
For my project, I had borrowed from my neighbor Brian Warner, a famous programmer in the Python computer language, a small GPS receiver that plugged into my laptop and recorded the locations of all the networks I was seeing. When I was done, I made a map of them.
With a lot of help from the folks at ESRI, a mapping-software company, I added to the maps a bit. For instance, I calculated per capita wireless ownership by census tract, and then mapped it. I also mapped average household income. It's no surprise the two are highly correlated.
In fact, the more affluent parts of my ZIP Code had nearly 10 times as many hot spots, per capita, as less tony areas. It's the old-fashioned digital divide, updated to the age of wireless.
In the early days of Wi-Fi, buffs would drive around like I did -- they call it "war driving" -- and look for "hot spots," delighted each time they found a new one, meaning, perhaps, a chance to get on the Internet free of charge. Now, if you look at my map, you quickly realize that by now, the entire city has become one big hot spot. Soon, much of the world will be.
But these devices aren't yet living up to their full potential. Currently, none of the Wi-Fi networks on my map talk to each other; they are all little islands onto themselves. Networking engineers, though, are laying the groundwork for something called "mesh networking," which would take all of the devices you can see on my map and connect them into a single, cohesive system.
You would still have network security, but you could, if you wanted, allow network traffic besides yours to hop around using your Wi-Fi gear. Cellphone networks work this way; so does the entire Internet, to a certain extent. The advantage to you of having network devices cooperate like this? The system would be there for you when you went out walking or even driving.
Mesh networks are expected to start appearing in two or so years, and I can't wait. Imagine the fireworks when BigGreenOnBosworth runs into BIGMOUTH_STRIKES_AGAIN.
Check out the map!
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