A six-digit code has a million values, and nothing was counting how many
of them a caller tried. The code travelled in an encrypted cookie the
caller held, verification compared against that cookie, and a wrong
answer simply re-rendered the form. Nobody has to be the person the code
was mailed to: type somebody else's address into the first screen and the
code goes to their mailbox while the cookie stays with you. At that point
the only thing between a stranger and an account is a million requests,
and the constant-time comparison protecting the code was guarding a door
you could just keep knocking on.
Guesses are now counted on the server, under a name that changes with
every code. That placement is the point: a counter kept beside the code,
in the cookie, is a counter the guesser can wind back by replaying an
older copy. Starting over is still allowed and still costs a fresh code
sent to the mailbox being aimed at, which is where somebody notices. A
correct code spends its record too, so its remaining guesses do not carry
into the next one.
The cookie also lived for twenty-four hours, which made the pin a
password with a million possible values and a day to try them. Ten
minutes now, and the code stops being accepted when the clock says so
rather than when the cookie happens to go away.
Resend had no limit either, so the button was a way to mail a stranger as
fast as requests go out. Codes to one address are spaced, and one attempt
at signing in can only ask for so many.
Both refusals say the same thing on purpose. Which of the two it was is a
fact about somebody else's mailbox.
Anybody could ask for a device code and be handed a link with the user
code already in it. Following that link started a sign-in, and finishing
the sign-in approved the grant. So sending somebody the link was enough:
they saw an ordinary sign-in prompt, completed it, and whoever kept the
device code polled and collected their access and refresh tokens. The
victim never saw a question, because there was not one.
There is now. Signing in says who the browser belongs to; it does not say
the person meant to hand an account to a program somewhere else. Those
are two questions and only the second authorizes anything, so the flow
ends at a page that names the program, shows the code back so it can be
compared with what the device is displaying, and offers Approve and Deny.
Approving is a POST carrying a value from the cookie, so another site
cannot submit it on somebody's behalf. Denial moved onto the same page:
it used to be a GET anyone could fire, which meant a link scanner could
cancel a real sign-in and a stranger with a user code could grief one.
Three more things that were wrong underneath.
The grant was read, modified and written back as a whole record. A poll
that read a pending grant and then wrote its bookkeeping erased an
approval that landed in between, and the client polled a dead grant until
it expired. Grants moved to a table, where approving is one conditional
update and redeeming is one delete that returns what it deleted, so
neither party can undo the other and two polls cannot both be served.
Tokens were minted when the person clicked and left sitting in storage
until collected. They are minted at redemption now, so the lifetime the
client is told about starts when it receives them, and a grant nobody
collects leaves no usable refresh token behind.
The client identifier was never checked, at either end. It is validated
when the grant is created and has to match when the code is redeemed —
without that, a leaked code is redeemable by anyone, and the identifier
the token carries is whatever the last caller claimed. The device code
is also stored as a hash now, since it is the credential the tokens are
handed to.
The store is an interface because the issuer cannot reach the database,
and because the guarantees are the point: every method is one operation,
and no caller reads a grant, decides, and writes it back.
The rule was "throw when the environment says production, otherwise log
the code and carry on". The deployment sets no such marker, so the
branch that ran was the developer one: every recipient and every usable
sign-in code printed to a retained log, the screen reporting success,
and nobody receiving anything.
That is what a fail-open default costs. The deployment that forgets its
mail settings is exactly the deployment with no marker saying it is a
real one, so it takes the lenient branch precisely when it should not.
Turned around: printing a live code is asked for by name and anything
else is an error, so absence of configuration is a refusal instead of an
assumption. Two settings out of three is also an error now, because it
means somebody is halfway through wiring a provider up and a quiet
fallback would hide the missing half.
Stages anyone else can reach are checked at deploy time, so a missing
setting stops the deploy with the name of the variable it wanted rather
than surfacing later as a person waiting for mail that never comes.
Signing in with a gaming account or with an SSH key could both bring a
user into existence. That makes an account only as recoverable as the
thing that created it, and gives one person as many accounts as they
have gaming logins — neither of which is what an account is supposed to
be now that verifying an address is what creates one.
Both are unwired rather than deleted. The provider implementations stay
where they are, because connecting a gaming account is still something
this product does; it just does it from the API, against a user who
already exists, which is a connection hanging off an identity rather
than an identity of its own.
The worker test followed: it exercised the two flows that are gone, and
now covers the one that is left plus an assertion that the other two are
not routed, so they cannot come back quietly.
Wires the pin-code provider, which existed and was never reachable, and makes
it the only branch that can create an account. Steam now resolves an existing
connection instead of minting a user from a persona, and refuses when there is
no account behind it — which is an answer the interface renders rather than an
implicit signup.
Delivery is a small provider-neutral POST rather than a vendor SDK: configure
an endpoint, a key and a from address. With none of them set it logs the code
outside production so a local sign-in works, and throws in production, because
a screen that says "check your email" when nothing was sent leaves someone
waiting instead of telling anybody.
A person who has only ever signed in by email has no connected account, and
the token says so with an empty value — the same one a server-to-server caller
has always carried.
Comments and served API descriptions here had grown references that only make
sense to someone with our internal notes: relative paths that escape this
tree, filenames and titles of documents nobody outside can open, quoted prose
from them, and the name of a component that has no public surface — once in an
OpenAPI description, which is published output rather than source.
None of it was load-bearing. Every case restates as what the code actually
requires, and every rewrite came out shorter: "in the words the host agent
reports" for a component name, "republished as addresses are discovered" for a
quoted phrase, "a size tier sets vCPU, RAM and the output geometry" for a
sentence that had been carrying a path.
Internal reasoning is now cited exactly one way, ref(d-NNNN) in a source
comment, with the rule that the sentence must still stand if the marker is
deleted. CLAUDE.md leads with it, because the previous version of this mistake
was made by people who knew the repo was public and it still took ten
occurrences to notice, so "be careful" is not a mechanism.
Commit messages get the stricter rule and carry no references at all: a
comment can be fixed by the next commit and a published message cannot be
fixed at all. Git hooks now enforce both halves.
The check caught a real one while being written: the CLAUDE.md table spelled
out the paths it was prohibiting, which discloses them to exactly the reader
it protects against.
138 tests, 0 fail.
Migration 1 of 0048, and the first of the seven weeks — nothing about a live
feed works without these two tables, so it is not a cleanup during them.
box a VM someone owns: an id that is also its DNS label, an editable
label, an owning user, the machine it sits on, a tier and a state.
Owned by a person and placed on a team's hardware, which are two
different relationships, hence both userId and machineId.
session one run of one box by one linked Steam account, and what costs
money. Separate from box because the ticket changes after bind as
addresses are discovered — the vsock contract calls it "a stream,
not one value" — so it is a column a client polls, not a value it
is handed once.
Box states are neslet's own three and no more. `starting` and `stopping` are
the obvious additions and both are omitted because nothing would ever write
them; a failed box is `stopped` with stopClean false, which is how neslet
models it too.
The generated migration would have failed on live rows in three ways, so it
is hand-written and tested against a database seeded at the old schema:
- machine.team_id becomes notNull, and *every existing row is null* because
the old registration path passed null. Personal teams are backfilled for
machine owners first, reusing a team they already own rather than minting
a second, with the owner membership row repaired where missing.
- game_download.host_id becomes a foreign key. It held free-form strings,
so unattributable rows are deleted before the cast — the only destructive
statement here, and a considered loss: it is a progress report neslet
re-derives from disk.
- Team.createPersonal was written and documented in packages/core/CLAUDE.md
as part of the login flow and never actually called, so no user has a
team. ensurePersonal is idempotent and now runs on every login, which is
what backfills accounts the migration does not reach.
Verified on a seeded legacy database: three null-team machines backfilled, an
existing team reused rather than duplicated, a blank display name handled, and
both unattributable download rows dropped while the attributable one survived.
Also fixes two things this work ran into rather than caused:
- Database.client() built a new postgres pool on every call, and use()
called it twice per invocation — pools of ten connections held for a 30s
idle timeout. Invisible in a Worker where requests are short; the suite
crossed 100 connections and Postgres said "sorry, too many clients
already" in whichever file ran last, which reads as a flaky test rather
than a leak. Now one pool per connection string.
- download.test.ts asserted against `hst_…` host ids, which is exactly the
unattributable row the new foreign key exists to refuse.
There is no "no team" any more: PATCH /machine/:id took teamId null to mean
"mine alone" and now requires a team, because the personal team is the one to
name. Its test is updated to the new contract rather than deleted.
113 → 128 tests, 0 fail.
