A few months ago I spun up a new VPS on Linode, London datacentre. Nothing special – Debian, Nginx, a Let's Encrypt certificate, a domain I was going to use for my daily notes and my homelab experiments. No link posted anywhere, no entries in my feeds, no backlinks from the sites I run. Just a freshly assigned IP, from a subnet that a week earlier had belonged to someone else.

There are architectures you see and architectures you don't. ARM is the most extreme case of the second category: it runs in the phone in our pocket, in the home router, in the eighty-euro board that serves as a home server for millions of tinkerers, in the datacentres of Amazon and Google. It is everywhere, and almost nobody knows what it is. It took me years too to bring it into focus, and the occasion was a Raspberry Pi 3 that I had decided to turn into a Nextcloud – the first brick of what would become, in the years to come, my small homelab – many years ago. It was a line in /boot/config that made me notice the thing: the Pi's processor, a Broadcom BCM2837, used the same architecture as the Android phones I had hacked for years. ARM. Same instruction set, same underlying logic, same family.

It was an ordinary Friday evening. The parcel had arrived with the courier that morning, but I only opened it after dinner, with that silent ceremony I perform every time new hardware shows up – as if opening a box too quickly were a form of disrespect toward the object. Inside was a HUNSN 4K. Small, almost ridiculously small. A mini PC in a form factor that fit in the palm of a hand. I put it on the table, looked at it. Looked at it again. And then an uncomfortable thought occurred to me. I had ordered it from a Chinese reseller, paid with a credit card, through a completely traceable payment infrastructure, from one of the most centralised and surveilled commercial ecosystems in existence. To build a homelab that would let me escape centralised and surveilled ecosystems.