Telegram, WhatsApp, Signal, OTR… et autant de protocoles de messagerie quasi instantanée, de modèles de sécurité et de protocoles cryptographiques : lesquels choisir ? Et si la solution idéale n’était pas dans la liste précédente ? Cet article évoque les limites de plusieurs de ces solutions, et présente le cœur cryptographique de Signal, WhatsApp et du protocole OMEMO. Il met finalement en exergue, par une analyse comparative, certaines limites de Signal et des qualités d’OMEMO.
this post is not about korean films - but a special space is carved out to two of the best korean dramas i’ve ever watched. a potent mix of everything i wish for in a drama converges in Signal andSecret Forest - tightly written plot, poignant but un-didactic social commentary, excellent acting, composed direction, remarkable cinematography and music. these two dramas are on another level of distinction compared to the rest.
Signal is a crime drama with a dose of fantasy. when a young upstart prosecutor (Lee Je-hoon) encounters a walkie-talkie that connects him to the past, he teams up with a determined cop (Kim Hye-soo) to solve cold crimes and unearth the truth about a cop who had mysteriously disappeared (Jo Jin-woong). dealing with similar themes, Secret Forest features Jo Seung-woo as an apathetic and principled prosecutor, who works together with a warm-hearted kick-ass cop (Bae Doona) to expose and punish the rampant corruption in the prosecution, police force, and conglomerates.
*spoilers ahead*
what i really appreciate about both dramas are that its stories are based on real cases, and pays extreme detail in imitating them. Signalbegins with the Hwaseong serial killings, which have been amply covered in other works (e.g. Memories of Murder) and form the groundworks for many korean films/dramas’ creative reimagination. Signal also covers the Miryang gang rape case (a la Han Gong Ju), and even incorporated the line that outraged the korean public into the script (”my boy’s not at fault for being a rapist - she seduced him”). it also makes reference to the collapse to the Seongsu bridge collapse in 1994 (as in House of Hummingbird too). in fact, a family member of a victim of crime sent a message of gratitude to the Signal production staff, for recognising and giving space to their pain.
Secret Forest does not make such direct references to cases of corruption that happened, but does so in more subtle ways. when a security guard is unable to hand over a CCTV tape from a month ago, citing that they typically discard the tapes after 14 days although the rules stipulate a 2-month period, Jo Seung-woo’s character coldly points out that this trivial attitude towards following the law will eventually lead to the sinking of a ship or the collapse of a department store. (Sewol ferry incident in 2014, Sampoong Department Store collapse in in 1995). in doing so, it is not afraid to pointedly criticise the ills that have gone unchecked. when the corrupt conglomerate CEO is arrested and arrives in court feigning illness on a wheelchair, we laugh because we’ve seen this before - in different countries, in different eras.
***more spoilers***
another area that distinguishes these two dramas from the rest, is the rich and complex characters created. the cops in both dramas were coerced into ill-doings because of the widespread corruption in the system around them that punished those who tried to stay morally upright. but there remain people who would sacrifice themselves to uproot corruption. Shin Hye-sun’s character in Secret Forest was a sacrificial victim that eventually pointed the team to the culprit, Jo Jin-woong’s character in Signal knowingly risked his life so that his remains could become evidence for indicting the culprit. Kim Hye-soo’s muted optimism, which so quickly deflated into a cold-hearted realism, was especially painful to watch.
but the character that fascinated me most was Yoo Jae-myung’s character in Secret Forest, who unintentionally tumbled into corruption step by wicked step. it all started with an uneventful lunch that a senior volunteered to paid for; it then became a senior doting on him buying him a luxury wallet; and it ends with him being pressured to do him favours. while pretending to be a corrupt prosecutor, Yoo Jae-myung’s character secretly collected evidence, created a special investigation taskforce for Jo Seung-woo’s upright prosecutor, accumulated power to protect the upright prosecutors, before handing the evidence over and committing suicide in disgrace.
*end of all spoilers*
one final spoiler - both dramas do not end in blinding optimism for the future (why should it?) but this should not deter you from watching the drama. rectifying crime & undoing corruption is a systemic unearthing that requires stamina. and if you’re a fan like me, thankfully season 2′s of both dramas are in the works!
Bruce hasn’t been Batman for 6 months when Alfred passes away peacefully in his sleep, he feels guilty for refusing to think about it coming after he started being mistaken for his father more often than not.
It’s been a year when Dick leaves on a mission to chase an organisation he believes to be connected to the Court of Owls through Europe. He goes MIA two weeks in and Cass takes up the mantel instead.
Steph isn’t there to see Tim start going by Nightwing because of the bullet that hits her brain whilst she’s fighting Two-Face and Scarecrow. Bruce can’t remember what they were arguing about the last time he saw her awake but he moves her to the manor after the coma becomes stable so he can tell her everyday how proud he’s always been.
Dick has been gone for 7 months when Tim gets hit by a car whilst in Bosnia searching for him or any kind of explanation for what happened. The doctor says he most likely died quickly after impact but Bruce doesn’t feel much relief.
Damian is 20 and taking on more and more responsibility at Wayne Enterprises when Jason comes to the manor to tell them about the stage 3 lung cancer. Bruce extends an offer to help him move back home but it’s declined.
Duke starts to cover extra areas of the city several times a weeks as well as his usual patrol route. It’s hard work and Bruce is positive he isnt getting enough sleep. When he tries to get between Deadshot and one of his targets, what’s meant to be a bullet for someone else goes straight into his femoral artery, sliding between armoured plates. Duke bleeds out two blocks away from where Bruce’s parents were killed.
Bruce can’t look at Damian without seeing his Father’s face so he lets him go on his mission to destroy the Lazarus pits left in the world. He falls silent when fighting his way through the League to the final one. Bruce only finds out that he succeeded 3 years later, when Talia informs him that Ra’s al Ghul is dead with no possibility of revival.
Jason is forced to retire from active patrols but he insists on working alongside Barbara in the Clocktower whenever he can. They convince him to attempt multiple types of treatment but eventually it’s Roy who finds him cold in his bed one morning. Bruce buries him next to his brothers.
Bruce sits down with Cass and Barbara when they decide that it’s time to let Steph go, with such extensive damage to her brain they’ve run out all hope that they’ll find a way for her to wake up. The two of them lock up the Manor and move to the Penthouse instead, its hallways were too quiet with just the two of them there.
Cass is without backup when what remains of Gotham’s rogues resend on downtown, Batwoman off world with the League and Batwing and Azazel uncontactable somewhere in the Middle East. Bruce watches with baited breath as she fights as hard as she can and returns them all to Arkham but the sheer volume of Joker Venom and Fear Gas alongside her injuries prove too much and not even the whip-smart girl who took over the clinic when Lesley died can do anything to save her.
Barbara starts to visit him less and less as time passes, he stands beside her during Jim Gordon’s funeral but that’s the last time he sees her. He decides he owes it to her not to go looking after digging up several plane tickets leaving a trail around the world. He doesn’t doubt that she could shake him if he tried.
Bruce Wayne is alone in the Penthouse when his heart gives out. The Joker and the majority of the other rogues are either in Arkham or haven’t been seen for years, disappearing along with the Batman. The Justice League is still in operation, Batwoman the only remaining Gothamite within their ranks. Bruce’s heart gives out and the Wayne line goes with it.
Bruce, reading from a paper: Due to elevating cursing from the other heroes that we believe is coming from batfamily, we now are changing the way things are phrased.
Bruce, to Jason: “Ask me if I give a fuck” will be now “Of course I’m concerned.”
Jason:
Bruce, to Tim: “Who gives a shit?” is now “I wasn’t involved in that.”
Tim:*nods*
Bruce, to Stephanie: “Kiss my ass” is now “I don’t think you understand.”
Stephanie:Okay.
Bruce, to Dick: “Suck my dick” is now “Have a nice day.”
Dick:
Bruce, to Damian: And finally “Who the hell died and made you boss?” is now “You want me to take care of this?”
Damian: Yes, Father.
Duke: Bruce, you want me to write a reply email from you about this?
Bruce: Yes, please reply: “To the Justice League, of course I’m concerned. You want me to take care of this? While I wasn’t involved in that, I feel you should reverse these changes as I don’t think you understand. Have a nice day.”
Recycled an old design to celebrate this band - more variants to come in the next couple of days. Btw, I’m going to start posting more regularly on instagram in future so feel free to follow me there dudes!
I’ve received a lot of requests for more Signal, and though I’m fresh out of ideas for the main canon, I thought I could do a bit of a prologue, from before they were with Doctors Crane and Sampson. An anon had the great idea of elaborating upon the mentioned wind tunnel from the ask game, so I went with that! I hope you enjoy!
(Putting all anon requests at the bottom of the post, as there’s a lot!)
There was a stark contrast between Signal’s kennel and the rest of the facility.
The facility itself was boundless– No matter how long they spend inside, how many treks through the blank halls they made, Signal had never seen the end of it. The hallways themselves were indistinguishable from one another, all blending together– Signal was never sure if they had been in the same hallway before, or if they were being led somewhere entirely new.
Knowing was impossible. The facility was impossible. Impossible to understand, and more than that, impossible to escape from.
Their kennel, on the other hand? Signal’s kennel was small, simple, comprehensible. Seven feet in one way, four in the other– They’d counted, making use of their curled fingers to measure inches, bit by tiny bit. They knew every last square inch of it. The inches where they curled up to sleep, where they backed away when the scientists came.
That was where they were, now– The very back of their kennel, spine pressed against the tile wall. The chain link structure provided minimal protection from outside prying eyes, providing a pixelated view of the scientist in a lab coat outside.
Which scientist? Signal hardly knew, and more than that, they hardly cared. Just like the hallways, there seemed to be infinite numbers of them. They were all the same, all threats in the same way.
Hell, they even spoke the same.
“Good morning, dear, time to come out, now.”
Dear. The word made Signal feel sick. They bristled as they pressed against the back of their kennel, ankles straining again the short length of chain that connected them and wings doing the same, struggling to break free from the straps keeping them folded.
Every day, they tried the same tactic to keep themself safe: A mixture of growling and swiping feebly at the air in front of them, trying in vain to scare away whoever had decided to target them. Never once did it work, but it felt far better than allowing themself to be taken with no fight at all.
With the clinking of a key in a lock, the chain link door of the kennel clattered open. The moment Signal felt blue-gloved hands upon their skin, heart-pounding panic set in, sending their limbs flailing and their jaws striking out at anything that they might’ve been able to find purchase on.
No purchase was found, and nothing was struck. Before they knew it, Signal’s wrists had been cinched behind their back, shoulders held in place by guiding hands, not allowing them to twist or spin.
Led down the hallway, Signal was not blindfolded, but they may as well have been. The towering ceilings and endless steel doors told them nothing of where they were– They wouldn’t have been able to figure it out, not even with a map. Other white coats shuffled past in either direction. At some point, one joined Signal’s captor, moving at their side with jovial words.
Signal had long since stopped listening to their conversations. They couldn’t care less.
They kept their head bowed, steps forced short by the hobbling strap between their ankles.
What would it be today? They had no way of knowing, they never did. Why would the scientists explain to them anything? After all, they were merely an animal, a lab rat, what would their understanding matter? Perhaps they would be having samples taken, or the opposite, having god-knows-what injected into their veins. A physical examination was always possible, or scans– Of their skin, their muscles, their bones, their organs.
They caught a scrap of conversation between the two scientists escorting them.
“I’m taking this one for some exercise. Its doctor is concerned that its wings are going to atrophy.”
“You’re taking it outside to fly?”
“Outside? No, no, just to the tunnel.”
The tunnel? It wasn’t something Signal had heard referred to before, something that made them balk and attempt to stop their constant march forward. Yet, it was in vain– A good shove and their feeble form was moving again.
Every last door in the endless hallway looked the same, and Signal fully expected to be shoved through any one of them, at any time.
Instead, they did not stop until the very end of the hallway, where an oversized, arc-shaped garage door was settled into the wall. There was no way they were going through there, r-
They were.
With a great rumbling, the door retracted upwards.
Signal understood at once why they called it the tunnel. Taking on the appearance of a giant, sideways half-cylinder, a metal-plated room stepped out in the distance. Immediately, their gaze was flitting about, searching for where exactly the pain would come in, where the torture would begin.
Instead, they were merely led into the massive tunnel, the garage door grinding closed behind them. Without thinking, they felt themself beginning to resist.
The structure of the thing was simple, all illuminated by great, shining bulbs, aligned in a straight row along the top of the tunnel. Inside the giant tunnel, settled in one corner, sat a metal control room, windows across the sides. The rest of the space was open, except for…
At one end of the half-cylinder, an oversized fan had been embedded behind an equally massive grate. Was that going to grind them up? It was the first thought that crossed Signal’s mind, though they quickly realized that it didn’t make much sense.
“Alright, buddy.” The scientist pushing them forward patted Signal on one shoulder. “Let’s stretch those wings a bit, huh?”
Signal did not much like the idea, but that was the case for any idea that the scientists had. Yet, it did have one positive– They nearly let out a sigh of relief as they felt the straps unbuckled from around their wings.
They wasted no time at all in unfurling them, feeling the stagnant air catch through their bent feathers. The two scientists stumbled backwards.
How long had it been, since they’d been able to fly? They didn’t remember, and, yet, the action came as naturally as breathing. A pair of powerful beats later, and they were up, halfway to the top of the cylinder. With a great cheer, they flew into a loop, before realizing how stupid the action was and halting.
The scientists on the ground looked up at them with a laugh, before moving to the control room, locking themselves in.
This was… This was amazing! Sure, it wasn’t as good as outside, as feeling the real wind in their wings, but it didn’t matter! They were flying !
Signal soon let go of their bashfulness, spinning over and over again in great arcs through the air. For the first time in ages, they could feel the blood pumping in their veins, the breath coursing through their lungs.
They did not so much as notice as the scientists below turned dials and pulled levers. Yet, they very much noticed when the massive fan churned to life.
The surprise alone was enough to find them falling out of a spin. Feeling like a deer in the headlights, they hovered, watching as the massive blades groaned and grumbled, beginning to move, then turn, then spin.
Even the first few rotations nearly knocked them back. What in the- What was this?!
Signal realized far too late.
By the time they understood the idea of the tunnel, the idea of exercise, they’d already been slammed back, against the far wall of the tunnel. Their head echoed hollowly with ripples of pain as they began beating their wings, struggling to free themself from the wall like a bug from an interstate windshield.
The fan was getting louder, louder, until they could no longer hear their own pounding, desperate thoughts, slamming against the inside of their skull. When they eventually freed themself from the wall, it was far from without difficulty– their lungs were overtaken by gasping as their wings beat the air in panic.
It felt like being behind a passenger jet.
Faster, faster, they urged their wings as the horrid gusts from in front slammed into their face, nipping their nose, tearing their breath from their lungs and tears from their eyes. They could sense the wall behind them, dreading slamming into it again, but did not dare turn around– a moment of lost concentration and they would fall again.
This was exercise? This was supposed to be good for their health?! Or was it merely another humiliation, another torture, like the thousands of others?
Signal had no spare mind with which to consider the matter. Instead, they could only beat their wings, could only gasp for what air they could get. They had long ago closed their eyes, focusing only on the wind, on fighting it with every movement.
The faster they beat their wings, however, it seemed that the fan matched their increase in speed.
Their lungs burned, the cold wind threatening to rip their feathers from their wings, their skin from their face and arms.
Signal had no way of keeping track of time in that hellish place. Only the scientists below knew that they lasted 5 minutes, 43 seconds before slamming into the back wall of the wind tunnel, and falling to the ground, unconscious.
All things considered, it was a good exercise routine. Efficient, quick, and great for their wings! That was what was recorded on Signal’s file, at least, alongside another line:
