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Reverse Twins

from Jaz's Blog [alt+shift+b] in programming

2nd Oct 2025

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Turning Billions of Strings into Integers Every Second Without Collisions

I’ve recently started building a POC of a Redis RESP3 Wire Compatible Key/Value Database built on FoundationDB with @calabro.io and though it’s rather early, it’s already spawned a fun distributed systems problem that I thought would be interesting to share. Previously I’ve written about how I implemented a Graph DB via Roaring Bitmaps, representing relations as a bidirectional pair of sets. To support such use-cases in this new database, we’d like to represent sets of keys such that you can perform boolean operations on them (intersection, union, difference) relatively quickly even for very large sets (with millions of members). Supporting Larger Keys In the original Graph DB, we were representing user DID strings as uint32 UIDs to allow us to store millions of edge lists in very little space (e.g. the set of users who follow bsky.app) while being able to perform boolean operations between lists quickly (using Roaring Bitmaps’ parallel boolean operators). Since we were graphing follows, blocks, and other such User-to-User relationships, there was a practical maximum for the total number of user IDs in the low billions. We’ve continued exploring objects and relationships we’d like to represent as a Graph, and have realized that if we wanted to store e.g. the URIs of all posts a user has liked so we can intersect it with other users’ likes, we’re going to need a bigger keyspace! There are well over 15 Billion records in the AT Proto Ecosystem, each with a unique AT URI! Now our desired keyspace is much larger than can be represented by uint32 values and so we need to expand to uint64. Easy enough, let’s use the uint64 flavor of Roaring Bitmaps and simply intern URIs and User DIDs as uint64s, problem solved, right? Not quite… Interning Many Things at Once The AT Proto Firehose has hit historic peak traffic of over 1,500 evt/sec. We want to design a system that will handle many times more scale than we’ve ever seen in reality. This means designing for 10x or 100x would require us to be able to intern 15k to 150k new URIs per second into uint64 integers. Sounds easy enough, what’s the holdup? Well, in FoundationDB we’re able to use Transactions to do things like atomically increment a sequence safely when many other threads may be trying to do the same thing. This is simple enough to do in Go, we can just toss together a little helper function to acquire a new UID for our string: func (s *server) allocateNewUID(span trace.Span, tx fdb.Transaction) (uint64, error) { var newUID uint64 val, err := tx.Get(fdb.Key("last_uid")).Get() if err != nil { return 0, return fmt.Errorf("failed to get last UID: %w", err) } if len(val) == 0 { newUID = 1 // start from 1 } else { lastUID, err := strconv.ParseUint(string(val), 10, 64) if err != nil { return 0, return fmt.Errorf("failed to parse last UID: %w", err) } newUID = lastUID + 1 } tx.Set(fdb.Key("last_uid"), []byte(strconv.FormatUint(newUID, 10))) return newUID, nil } This function gets called from a fdb.Transaction which gets assigned a Transaction ID, then stages its changes, then tries to commit them. In FoundationDB, if your transaction is reading or modifying data written to by a different Transaction that finishes while you’re in-progress, your Transaction is thrown out and must be retried. For our UID assignment use-case, this is pretty problematic. We want to assign hundreds of thousands of new UIDs per second but if they’re all modifying the same key, concurrent transactions will constantly run into contention on the same data and will be forced to retry over and over again. This problem gets worse the more concurrent transactions you have trying to read from or write to the same key. Even if we stick to sequential access, if it takes ~5-10ms to assign a UID, we can only assign ~100-200 UIDs per second, nowhere near the throughput we need to support. How can we get past this problem and allow us to give strings unique uint64 UIDs in a high throughput and highly concurrent manner? Attempt #1: xxHash My first attempt to solve this problem was to try something that required no coordination and hash the string keys into uint64s using xxHash. xxHash is a non-cryptographic hash algorithm that supports incredibly high throughput (dozens of GB/sec) and can produce 64 bit unsigned integer hashes of strings trivially. Implementing this would look something like: Hash the incoming string key Lookup the uint64 UID to see if we’ve already assigned it to a string Reject the transaction if there’s a collision and give up Store the key in the UID map and the UID in the key map Use the UID for anything else we need While the uint64 keyspace is plenty large for our needs assuming we distribute evenly among the whole space, using a hashing algorithm with no coordination means there’s room for collisions and thus we’d need some additional logic (potentially by bucketing the keys somehow). Consulting the Birthday Problem we can see that a keyspace with 64 bit hashes has a >50% chance of containing a single collision when we have only ~5 billion keys in the set! That’s barely more keys than we can cram into a uint32 and definitely won’t suffice for the number of keys we expect to be storing! So, xxHash, while nice and coordination-free is probably not going to be the solution we need. What else can we do? Attempt #2: Billions of Sequences Incrementing one sequence is clearly not an option because we can only increment a single sequence ~100-200 times per second, but what if we instead had more than one sequence? Roaring Bitmaps managed to make highly efficient bitmap representations by breaking up a uint32 keyspace into a uint16-wide set of uint16-wide keyspaces. Can we do something similar here? Here’s an idea, what if we had just over 4 billion difference sequences and just picked one at random when we needed to assign a UID? Since we’re constructing our UIDs as a uint64, we can split the full UID into a pair of uint32s where the most-significant-bits are used to identify the sequence ID and the least-significant-bits are used to identify the value assigned to the UID within the sequence. So in our implementation, we get ~4.3 Billion sequence IDs that each have ~4.3 Billion incrementing values. As an example, if we were to randomly select Sequence ID 37 and then we increment that sequence to the value 5, we’d assemble the ID as 37<<32 + 5 which looks like 158,913,789,952 + 5 -> 158,913,789,957. Looking at the next Seuqence ID, we’d see 38 which, when left shifted by 32 gives us 163,208,757,248. You can see there’s a gap of ~4.3 billion values between the first UID assigned by each Sequence ID. Assuming we can increment a single sequence ~100 times per second with contention, we’re able to mint 430 Billion new UIDs per second without locking up (assuming the cluster can keep up). Storing ~4.3 billion sequences may be a bit expensive, but thankfully this strategy can scale up and down by picking a larger or smaller prefix size. If we only wanted to store say, ~16k sequences, we can pick a 14 bit prefix instead of a 32 bit prefix and then use a 50 bit sequence number. That spreads the load across 2^14 sequence IDs and significantly reduces storage requirements for Sequences. What does this look like in code? Well, it’s honestly not very complex! const uidSequencePrefix = "uid_sequence/" func (s *server) allocateNewUID(tx fdb.Transaction) (uint64, error) { // sequenceNum is the random uint32 sequence we are using for this allocation var sequenceNum uint32 var sequenceKey string // assignedUID is the uint32 within the sequence we will assign var assignedUID uint32 // Try up to 5 times to find a sequence that is not exhausted for range 5 { // Pick a random uint32 as the sequence we will be using for this UID sequenceNum = rand.Uint32() sequenceKey = fmt.Sprintf("%s%d", uidSequencePrefix, sequenceNum) val, err := tx.Get(fdb.Key(sequenceKey)).Get() if err != nil { return 0, fmt.Errorf("failed to get last UID: %w", err) } if len(val) == 0 { assignedUID = 1 // Start each sequence at 1 } else { lastUID, err := strconv.ParseUint(string(val), 10, 32) if err != nil { return 0, fmt.Errorf("failed to parse last UID: %w", err) } // If we have exhausted this sequence, pick a new random sequence if lastUID >= 0xFFFFFFFF { continue } assignedUID = uint32(lastUID) + 1 } } // If we failed to find a sequence after 5 tries, return an error if assignedUID == 0 { return 0, fmt.Errorf("failed to allocate new UID after 5 attempts") } // Assemble the 64-bit UID from the sequence ID and assigned UID newUID := (uint64(sequenceNum) << 32) | uint64(assignedUID) // Store the assigned UID back to the sequence key for the next allocation tx.Set(fdb.Key(sequenceKey), []byte(strconv.FormatUint(uint64(assignedUID), 10))) // Return the full 64-bit UID return newUID, nil } And there we go! We can now intern billions of strings per second with little to no contention in a distributed system while completely avoiding collisions and making full use of our keyspace! Conclusion Often times when designing distributed systems, patterns and strategies you see in seemingly unrelated libraries can inspire an elegant solution to the problem at hand. In the case of distributed, high-throughput string interning, horizontal scaling can be achieved by breaking up one large keyspace that requires strict coordination into billions of smaller keyspaces that can be randomly load-balanced across. Both patterns used in this technique are present elsewhere: Breaking up a large keyspace into a bunch of smaller keyspaces is present in Roaring Bitmaps (among other systems) Letting randomness and large numbers spread out resource contention is present in many load balancing systems This is one of my favorite parts of growing as an engineer: the more systems and strategies you familiarize yourself with, the more material you have to draw from when designing something new. Personal News A bit of personal news for y’all if you made it this far. Today is my last day as a member of the Bluesky team! The past 2+ years building out Bluesky’s Infrastructure and Platform team and scaling Bluesky from 100,000 -> 40,000,000 users have been the most intense and rewarding years of my life. I don’t have the words to express how much I’ve valued my time on the team and how much I care for the people I’ve worked with in what feels like a decade of real time. I’ve got some new adventures ahead and am excited to be embarking on a new journey within the next month (still building large-scale infrastructure, don’t worry). I plan to continue being involved in the AT Proto Community and to contribute to some cool projects other folks on the Bluesky team are working on from the FOSS space (like KVDB). To the team, I wish you all the best and will dearly miss getting to work with you all every day, but nothing lasts forever and I will always cherish the time I got to spend building an incredible platform with incredible people. If you’re interested in joining a world-class team doing important work, check out Bluesky’s open job listings here. There should be a new role opening up for a seasoned Go Engineer on the Platform team soon!

26th Sep 2025 • 1 votes
When Imperfect Systems are Good, Actually: Bluesky's Lossy Timelines

Often when designing systems, we aim for perfection in things like consistency of data, availability, latency, and more. The hardest part of system design is that it’s difficult (if not impossible) to design systems that have perfect consistency, perfect availability, incredibly low latency, and incredibly high throughput, all at the same time. Instead, when we approach system design, it’s best to treat each of these properties as points on different axes that we balance to find the “right fit” for the application we’re supporting. I recently made some major tradeoffs in the design of Bluesky’s Following Feed/Timeline to improve the performance of writes at the cost of consistency in a way that doesn’t negatively affect users but reduced P99s by over 96%. Timeline Fanout When you make a post on Bluesky, your post is indexed by our systems and persisted to a database where we can fetch it to hydrate and serve in API responses. Additionally, a reference to your post is “fanned out” to your followers so they can see it in their Timelines. This process involves looking up all of your followers, then inserting a new row into each of their Timeline tables in reverse chronological order with a reference to your post. When a user loads their Timeline, we fetch a page of post references and then hydrate the posts/actors concurrently to quickly build an API response and let them see the latest content from people they follow. The Timelines table is sharded by user. This means each user gets their own Timeline partition, randomly distributed among shards of our horizontally scalable database (ScyllaDB), replicated across multiple shards for high availability. Timelines are regularly trimmed when written to, keeping them near a target length and dropping older post references to conserve space. Hot Shards in Your Area Bluesky currently has around 32 Million Users and our Timelines database is broken into hundreds of shards. To support millions of partitions on such a small number of shards, each user’s Timeline partition is colocated with tens of thousands of other users’ Timelines. Under normal circumstances with all users behaving well, this doesn’t present a problem as the work of an individual Timeline is small enough that a shard can handle the work of tens of thousands of them without being heavily taxed. Unfortunately, with a large number of users, some of them will do abnormal things like… well… following hundreds of thousands of other users. Generally, this can be dealt with via policy and moderation to prevent abusive users from causing outsized load on systems, but these processes take time and can be imperfect. When a user follows hundreds of thousands of others, their Timeline becomes hyperactive with writes and trimming occurring at massively elevated rates. This load slows down the individual operations to the user’s Timeline, which is fine for the bad behaving user, but causes problems to the tens of thousands of other users sharing a shard with them. We typically call this situation a “Hot Shard”: where some resident of a shard has “hot” data that is being written to or read from at much higher rates than others. Since the data on the shard is only replicated a few times, we can’t effectively leverage the horizontal scale of our database to process all this additional work. Instead, the “Hot Shard” ends up spending so much time doing work for a single partition that operations to the colocated partitions slow down as well. Stacking Latencies Returning to our Fanout process, let’s consider the case of Fanout for a user followed by 2,000,000 other users. Under normal circumstances, writing to a single Timeline takes an average of ~600 microseconds. If we sequentially write to the Timelines of our user’s followers, we’ll be sitting around for 20 minutes at best to Fanout this post. If instead we concurrently Fanout to 1,000 Timelines at once, we can complete this Fanout job in ~1.2 seconds. That sounds great, except it oversimplifies an important property of systems: tail latencies. The average latency of a write is ~600 microseconds, but some writes take much less time and some take much more. In fact, the P99 latency of writes to the Timelines cluster can be as high as 15 milliseconds! What does this mean for our Fanout? Well, if we concurrently write to 1,000 Timelines at once, statistically we’ll see 10 writes as slow as or slower than 15 milliseconds. In the case of timelines, each “page” of followers is 10,000 users large and each “page” must be fanned out before we fetch the next page. This means that our slowest writes will hold up the fetching and Fanout of the next page. How does this affect our expected Fanout time? Each “page” will have ~100 writes as slow as or slower than the P99 latency. If we get unlucky, they could all stack up on a single routine and end up slowing down a single page of Fanout to 1.5 seconds. In the worst case, for our 2,000,000 Follower celebrity, their post Fanout could end up taking as long as 5 minutes! That’s not even considering P99.9 and P99.99 latencies which could end up being >1 second, which could leave us waiting tens of minutes for our Fanout job. Now imagine how bad this would be for a user with 20,000,000+ Followers! So, how do we fix the problem? By embracing imperfection, of course! Lossy Timelines Imagine a user who follows hundreds of thousands of others. Their Timeline is being written to hundreds of times a second, moving so fast it would be humanly impossible to keep up with the entirety of their Timeline even if it was their full-time job. For a given user, there’s a threshold beyond which it is unreasonable for them to be able to keep up with their Timeline. Beyond this point, they likely consume content through various other feeds and do not primarily use their Following Feed. Additionally, beyond this point, it is reasonable for us to not necessarily have a perfect chronology of everything posted by the many thousands of users they follow, but provide enough content that the Timeline always has something new. Note in this case I’m using the term “reasonable” to loosely convey that as a social media service, there must be a limit to the amount of work we are expected to do for a single user. What if we introduce a mechanism to reduce the correctness of a Timeline such that there is a limit to the amount of work a single Timeline can place on a DB shard. We can assert a reasonable limit for the number of follows a user should have to have a healthy and active Timeline, then increase the “lossiness” of their Timeline the further past that limit they go. A loss_factor can be defined as min(reasonable_limit/num_follows, 1) and can be used to probabilistically drop writes to a Timeline to prevent hot shards. Just before writing a page in Fanout, we can generate a random float between 0 and 1, then compare it to the loss_factor of each user in the page. If the user’s loss_factor is smaller than the generated float, we filter the user out of the page and don’t write to their Timeline. Now, users all have the same number of “follows worth” of Fanout. For example with a reasonable_limit of 2,000, a user who follows 4,000 others will have a loss_factor of 0.5 meaning half the writes to their Timeline will get dropped. For a user following 8,000 others, their loss factor of 0.25 will drop 75% of writes to their Timeline. Thus, each user has a effective ceiling on the amount of Fanout work done for their Timeline. By specifying the limits of reasonable user behavior and embracing imperfection for users who go beyond it, we can continue to provide service that meets the expectations of users without sacrificing scalability of the system. Aside on Caching We write to Timelines at a rate of more than one million times a second during the busy parts of the day. Looking up the number of follows of a given user before fanning out to them would require more than one million additional reads per second to our primary database cluster. This additional load would not be well received by our database and the additional cost wouldn’t be worth the payoff for faster Timeline Fanout. Instead, we implemented an approach that caches high-follow accounts in a Redis sorted set, then each instance of our Fanout service loads an updated version of the set into memory every 30 seconds. This allows us to perform lookups of follow counts for high-follow accounts millions of times per second per Fanount service instance. By caching values which don’t need to be perfect to function correctly in this case, we can once again embrace imperfection in the system to improve performance and scalability without compromising the function of the service. Results We implemented Lossy Timelines a few weeks ago on our production systems and saw a dramatic reduction in hot shards on the Timelines database clusters. In fact, there now appear to be no hot shards in the cluster at all, and the P99 of a page of Fanout work has been reduced by over 90%. Additionally, with the reduction in write P99s, the P99 duration for a full post Fanout has been reduced by over 96%. Jobs that used to take 5-10 minutes for large accounts now take <10 seconds. Knowing where it’s okay to be imperfect lets you trade consistency for other desirable aspects of your systems and scale ever higher. There are plenty of other places for improvement in our Timelines architecture, but this step was a big one towards improving throughput and scalability of Bluesky’s Timelines. If you’re interested in these sorts of problems and would like to help us build the core data services that power Bluesky, check out this job listing. If you’re interested in other open positions at Bluesky, you can find them here.

19th Feb 2025 • 63 votes
Emoji Griddle
30th Oct 2024 • 35 votes
Jetstream: Shrinking the AT Proto Firehose by >99%

Bluesky recently saw a massive spike in activity in response to Brazil’s ban of Twitter. As a result, the AT Proto event firehose provided by Bluesky’s Relay at bsky.network has increased in volume by a huge amount. The average event rate during this surge increased by ~1,300%. Before this new surge in activity, the firehose would produce around 24 GB/day of traffic. After the surge, this volume jumped to over 232 GB/day! Keeping up with the full, verified firehose quickly became less practical on cheap cloud infrastructure with metered bandwidth. To help reduce the burden of operating bots, feed generators, labelers, and other non-verifying AT Proto services, I built Jetstream as an alternative, lightweight, filterable JSON firehose for AT Proto. How the Firehose Works The AT Proto firehose is a mechanism used to keep verified, fully synced copies of the repos of all users. Since repos are represented as Merkle Search Trees, each firehose event contains an update to the user’s MST which includes all the changed blocks (nodes in the path from the root to the modified leaf). The root of this path is signed by the repo owner, and a consumer can keep their copy of the repo’s MST up-to-date by applying the diff in the event. For a more in-depth explanation of how Merkle Trees are constructed, check out this explainer. Practically, this means that for every small JSON record added to a repo, we also send along some number of MST blocks (which are content-addressed hashes and thus very information-dense) that are mostly useful for consumers attempting to keep a fully synced, verified copy of the repo. You can think of this as the difference between cloning a git repo v.s. just grabbing the latest version of the files without the .git folder. In this case, the firehose effectively streams the diffs for the repository with commits, signatures, and metadata, which is inherently heavier than a point-in-time checkout of the repo. Because firehose events with repo updates are signed by the repo owner, they allow a consumer to process events from any operator without having to trust the messenger. This is the “Authenticated” part of the Authenticated Transfer (AT) Protocol and is crucial to the correct functioning of the network. That being said, of the hundreds of consumers of Bluesky’s production Relay, >90% of them are building feeds, bots, and other tools that don’t keep full copies of the entire network and don’t verify MST operations at all. For these consumers, all they actually process is the JSON records created, updated, and deleted in each event. If consumers already trust the provider to do validation on their end, they could get by with a much more lightweight data stream. How Jetstream Works Jetstream is a streaming service that consumes an AT Proto com.atproto.sync.subscribeRepos stream and converts it into lightweight, friendly JSON. If you want to try it out yourself, you can connect to my public Jetstream instance and view all posts on Bluesky in realtime: $ websocat "wss://jetstream2.us-east.bsky.network/subscribe?wantedCollections=app.bsky.feed.post" Note: the above instance is operated by Bluesky PBC and is free to use, more instances are listed in the official repo Readme Jetstream converts the CBOR-encoded MST blocks produced by the AT Proto firehose and translates them into JSON objects that are easier to interface with using standard tooling available in programming languages. Since Repo MSTs only contain records in their leaf nodes, this means Jetstream can drop all of the blocks in an event except for those of the leaf nodes, typically leaving only one block per event. In reality, this means that Jetstream’s JSON firehose is nearly 1/10 the size of the full protocol firehose for the same events, but lacks the verifiability and signatures included in the protocol-level firehose. Jetstream events end up looking something like: { "did": "did:plc:eygmaihciaxprqvxpfvl6flk", "time_us": 1725911162329308, "type": "com", "commit": { "rev": "3l3qo2vutsw2b", "type": "c", "collection": "app.bsky.feed.like", "rkey": "3l3qo2vuowo2b", "record": { "$type": "app.bsky.feed.like", "createdAt": "2024-09-09T19:46:02.102Z", "subject": { "cid": "bafyreidc6sydkkbchcyg62v77wbhzvb2mvytlmsychqgwf2xojjtirmzj4", "uri": "at://did:plc:wa7b35aakoll7hugkrjtf3xf/app.bsky.feed.post/3l3pte3p2e325" } }, "cid": "bafyreidwaivazkwu67xztlmuobx35hs2lnfh3kolmgfmucldvhd3sgzcqi" } } Each event lets you know the DID of the repo it applies to, when it was seen by Jetstream (a time-based cursor), and up to one updated repo record as serialized JSON. Check out this 10 second CPU profile of Jetstream serving 200k evt/sec to a local consumer: By dropping the MST and verification overhead by consuming from relay we trust, we’ve reduced the size of a firehose of all events on the network from 232 GB/day to ~41GB/day, but we can do better. Jetstream and zstd I recently read a great engineering blog from Discord about their use of zstd to compress websocket traffic to/from their Gateway service and client applications. Since Jetstream emits marshalled JSON through the websocket for developer-friendliness, I figured it might be a neat idea to see if we could get further bandwidth reduction by employing zstd to compress events we send to consumers. zstd has two basic operating modes, “simple” mode and “streaming” mode. Streaming Compression At first glance, streaming mode seems like it’d be a great fit. We’ve got a websocket connection with a consumer and streaming mode allows the compression to get more efficient over the lifetime of the connection. I went and implemented a streaming compression version of Jetstream where a consumer can request compression when connecting and will get zstd compressed JSON sent as binary messages over the socket instead of plaintext. Unfortunately, this had a massive impact on Jetstream’s server-side CPU utilization. We were effectively compressing every message once per consumer as part of their streaming session. This was not a scalable approach to offering compression on Jetstream. Additionally, Jetstream stores a buffer of the past 24 hours (configurable) of events on disk in PebbleDB to allow consumers to replay events before getting transitioned into live-tailing mode. Jetstream stores serialized JSON in the DB, so playback is just shuffling the bytes into the websocket without having to round-trip the data into a Go struct. When we layer in streaming compression, playback becomes significantly more expensive because we have to compress outgoing events on-the-fly for a consumer that’s catching up. In real numbers, this increased CPU usage of Jetstream by 23% while lowering the throughput of playback from ~200k evt/sec to ~28k evt/sec for a single local consumer. When in streaming mode, we can’t leverage the bytes we compress for one consumer and reuse them for another consumer because zstd’s streaming context window may not be in sync between the two consumers. They haven’t received exactly the same data in the session so the clients on the other end don’t have their state machines in the same state. Since streaming mode’s primary advantage is giving us eventually better efficiency as the encoder learns about the data, what if we just taught the encoder about the data at the start and compress each message statelessly? Dictionary Mode zstd offers a mechanism for initializing an encoder/decoder with pre-optimized settings by providing a dictionary trained on a sample of the data you’ll be encoding/decoding. Using this dictionary, zstd essentially uses it’s smallest encoded representations for the most frequently seen patterns in the sample data. In our case, where we’re compressing serialized JSON with a common event shape and lots of common property names, training a dictionary on a large number of real events should allow us to represent the common elements among messages in the smallest number of bytes. For take two of Jetstream with zstd, let’s to use a single encoder for the whole service that utilizes a custom dictionary trained on 100,000 real events. We can use this encoder to compress every event as we see it, before persisting and emitting it to consumers. Now we end up with two copies of every event, one that’s just serialized JSON, and one that’s statelessly compressed to zstd using our dictionary. Any consumers that want compression can have a copy of the dictionary on their end to initialize a decoder, then when we broadcast the shared compressed event, all consumers can read it without any state or context issues. This requires the consumers and server to have a pre-shared dictionary, which is a major drawback of this implementation but good enough for our purposes. That leaves the problem of event playback for compression-enabled clients. An easy solution here is to just store the compressed events as well! Since we’re only sticking the JSON records into our PebbleDB, the actual size of the 24 hour playback window is <8GB with sstable compression. If we store a copy of the JSON serialized event and a copy of the zstd compressed event, this will, at most, double our storage requirements. Then during playback, if the consumer requests compression, we can just shuffle bytes out of the compressed version of the DB into their socket instead of having to move it through a zstd encoder. Savings Running with a custom dictionary, I was able to get the average Jetstream event down from 482 bytes to just 211 bytes (~0.44 compression ratio). Jetstream allows us to live tail all posts on Bluesky as they’re posted for as little as ~850 MB/day, and we could keep up with all events moving through the firehose during the Brazil Twitter Exodus weekend for 18GB/day (down from 232GB/day). With this scheme, Jetstream is required to compress each event only once before persisting it to disk and emitting it to connected consumers. The CPU impact of these changes is significant in proportion to Jetstream’s incredibly light load but it’s a flat cost we pay once no matter how many consumers we have. (CPU profile from a 30 second pprof sample with 12 consumers live-tailing Jetstream) Additionally, with Jetstream’s shared buffer broadcast architecture, we keep memory allocations incredibly low and the cost per consumer on CPU and RAM is trivial. In the allocation profile below, more than 80% of the allocations are used to consume the full protocol firehose. The total resident memory of Jetstream sits below 16MB, 25% of which is actually consumed by the new zstd dictionary. To bring it all home, here’s a screenshot from the dashboard of my public Jetstream instance serving 12 consumers all with various filters and compression settings, running on a $5/mo OVH VPS. At our new baseline firehose activity, a consumer of the protocol-level firehose would require downloading ~3.16TB/mo to keep up. A Jetstream consumer getting all created, updated, and deleted records without compression enabled would require downloading ~400GB/mo to keep up. A Jetstream consumer that only cares about posts and has zstd compression enabled can get by on as little as ~25.5GB/mo, <99% of the full weight firehose. Feel free to join the conversation about Jetstream and zstd on Bluesky.

24th Sep 2024 • 41 votes

More in programming

Lexxy 1.0 is here

Today we are releasing the version 1.0 of Lexxy. Lexxy is a rich text editor for Rails built on Lexical. It already powers Basecamp, Fizzy and many others, and it will become the default editor in Rails. I recently presented it in Rails World (slides, video coming soon). This is the article version of my talk. Trix hit a wall Trix has been our editor since 2015, and every Rails app’s editor since Action Text shipped in Rails 6. It’s small and reliable, and it has served millions of people for a decade. But in the last few years our customers kept asking for features like tables or code highlighting, and we kept struggling to deliver them. The reason is the Trix document model. A Trix document is a flat list of blocks. A block is a line of text with some labels attached, like quote, bullet list, bullet. There is no tree, and a block can never contain another block. Nesting is an illusion: at render time, adjacent blocks with the same labels get wrapped together. A flat list of blocks with very limited extensibility options That design bought a lot of simplicity, but you can’t express something like a table with it. Two cells next to each other would carry exactly the same labels, so Trix would merge them into one. The model can say “this bullet is one level deeper”. It cannot say “this cell is different from the cell next to it”. A tables issue has been opened since 2015! The model just can’t do it. The second problem was maintenance. An editor built on contenteditable behaves differently in every browser and even changes from time with operating system releases. In 2024, three iOS releases in a row broke typing, dictation or the caret in Trix, and each one cost us real effort to work around. Check this one as an example. Why Lexical This was a conversation we had at 37signals for years: 2022. We started a project to add tables to Trix. We gave up after a week. The document model can’t represent two-dimensional things. 2023. I built a proof of concept with Tiptap inside HEY. We liked it, but we never started a serious project with it. 2024. We built House, our own Markdown editor, for Writebook. Not WYSIWYG, but WYSIWYM: what you see is what you mean. A wonderful editor for long-form writing like books or technical documentation. 2025. We tried House in another product, and it didn’t fit. For most apps, WYSIWYG was just the right answer. 2025. We had the discussion again, and this time we looked at the whole field. Four years of the same conversation David ruled out Tiptap, CKEditor and the other commercial editors: an open source core with features kept proprietary, and a sales team behind them. We didn’t want our editor to depend on somebody else’s licensing decisions. Then we found Lexical: MIT, from Meta, and very powerful. I spent two weeks evaluating it, and in May we made the call to go with it. A tiny core. Pick the rest. Lexical’s core has zero dependencies and weighs forty-two kilobytes. In a way, it validates the approach that Trix pioneered. The document is an immutable state you never mutate directly, you just get new snapshots when performing updates; contenteditable is an input device and a rendering surface, never the source of truth. It has a DOM reconciler to update the actual DOM very efficiently, and other primitives to deal with handling commands and node transformations. Everything else, from lists to tables to markdown, is a package in the orbit. Lexxy uses thirteen of them. Lexical solved the maintenance problem too. Meta’s products like Facebook or Instagram use Lexical and their user count is in the hundreds of millions. This means that even small issues with new keyboards and devices are fixed fast by the dedicated Meta team that maintains it. Furthermore, Meta’s business is the products, not the editor. We much rather liked this structure of incentives for the long-term investment an editor represents. The iceberg The plan was simple. Pick Lexical, wire it up to Action Text, add a toolbar and ship it. Well, it didn’t go exactly like that. What you envision, and what's under the water Lexxy today is thirteen thousand lines of vanilla JavaScript on top of Lexical. A great editing experience is very hard to get right. An editor is a machine where the user can change the state in a thousand different ways. For example. you have two images one after the other and want to put the cursor between them, but there is nothing there to put a cursor in. Or somebody pastes from Google Docs, and you have to turn a pile of inline styles and empty spans into clean markup. And then Safari, and Android keyboards, and the clipboard, and undo, and… From the first pull request to Basecamp 5 The first pull request landed in May 2025. Fizzy launched with Lexxy in December, and Basecamp 5 in May this year. Basecamp was the real test: twenty years of content written with Trix, and people who use the editor all day, every day. Zoltán Hosszú and Samuel Péchèr were the key people who made this happen. The took a very green version of Lexxy, added a ton of features (including Tables) and polish, and they fixed countless bugs. They also pulled off a remarkable milestone: seamlessly switching millions of Basecamp users from Trix to Lexxy. What’s included? We didn’t want a to build Trix with tables. We had Lexical and we had agents to help, so we wanted to be ambitious here. We went for the whole package. Features In terms of major features: A color highlighter, built in instead of this being a custom Basecamp extension, as it was with Trix. Tables, with an interface we worked hard to keep simple and accessible. Markdown. You type it, you get rich text. Code blocks with syntax highlighting as you type, in more than twenty languages. Image galleries you can navigate and reorder with the keyboard. Prompts. Type a character, get a menu: mentions, emoji, or whatever your app needs. Links by pasting a URL over selected text. Previews of attachments like videos and PDFs, rendered as your app renders them. Action Text Native Lexxy is also Action Text native. Action Text stores attachments in a canonical format that Trix doesn’t speak, so it translates on save and again on render. We taught Lexxy to emit exactly that markup. What you see in the editor is what gets saved, and what gets saved is what your app renders. Your existing content, attachments and views keep working. That opened another door. Action Text now talks to an editor adapter, with an implementation for Trix and one for Lexxy, so switching is one line: config.action_text.editor = :lexxy. Here the credit goes to Sean Doyle, who started that pull request before Lexxy existed and took it to the finish line with our input. It ships with Rails 8.2, and we hope other editors will use it too. Extensibility And you can extend Lexxy. Extensions are built on Lexical’s own mechanism, and this is not a second-class API: Lexxy itself is thirteen extensions, tables included, and Basecamp has nine more. class MyExtension extends Lexxy.Extension { get enabled() { … } get allowedElements() { … } get lexicalExtension() { return this.defineExtension({ name: "my-extension", nodes: [ … ], register(editor) { … } }) } initializeToolbar(toolbar) { … } dispose() { … } } Lexxy.configure({ global: { extensions: [ MyExtension ] } }) My favorite of how extensible is Lexxy are voice notes in Basecamp: you record, you see the waveform while you talk, and it becomes a player inside the document. About a thousand lines, without forking or patching anything. Performance Lexxy is fast, because Lexical is fast. In a ten thousand word document, Trix takes thirty-eight milliseconds to process a keystroke. Lexxy takes four. Above fifty milliseconds, the editor starts feeling sluggish. Compared to Trix, Lexxy brought a whole new performance regime. Milliseconds per keystroke by document size Accessibility Accessibility in Trix was not great. In general, building accessible experiences for rich text editors built on top of contenteditable is quite hard. We had a dream team to help with Lexxy accessibility. Bruno Prieto worked with Michael Berger, our accessibility champion at 37signals, to bring the bar to where we wanted it to be. Bruno is an outstanding programmer who happens to be blind, so he knows one thing or two about accessibility, and he delivered. As a result, in Lexxy everything is reachable with the keyboard. The editor announces itself properly to screen readers, and it gets a thousand details right so that the editing experience using a screen reader is fantastic. You can learn more about accessibility in our docs. Security The latest AI models have resulted in an unprecedented explosion of vulnerabilities found, and we took this thread quite seriously. Lexxy counted with programmers of the caliber of Jeremy Daer and Mike Dalessio helping to make it more secure. We have put a lot of attention to sanitizing the editor contents, validating attachment URLs and making sure that the types of attachments and nodes the editor support are allow-listed. Lexxy also comes with preliminary Trusted Types support, to offer CSP-level control over certain DOM manipulation APIs. The trusted types policy is there, but we are not enforcing it everywhere yet. Agents We started Lexxy using Claude since day one. A main lesson was that an agent needs to drive the editor like a user does. The best decision we made in this project was moving the system tests from Capybara to Playwright: three browsers instead of one, a suite that runs in seconds, and a much more faithful clipboard, keyboard and focus. This represented a tremendous improvement in how agents could close the loop by themselves. Write a test, see it fail, fix it, see it pass. We have more than six hundred browser tests today. Moving the suite to Playwright changed how fast we could write tests With a solid testing foundation in place, we could start fixing bugs in large batches. As mentioned, getting a text editor right implies a ton of work, and the kind of backlog we got at some point would have have buried us in pre-agent times. We also used agents to validate the fixes: an agent reproduces the bug in the public Lexxy sandbox, checks that it’s gone with the branch applied, and labels the pull request. Agents were essential to get Lexxy done with the people and the deadlines we had: we are a small company, and the same people were shipping two products in parallel. 275 cards closed The new Rails default We believe Lexxy is the best rich text editor out there right now, and we are going to make it the default editor in Rails next. If you’re starting a Rails application today, use Lexxy. If you’re using Action Text with a standard configuration, switch. It’s one line, and we’ve worked hard to make it seamless.

an hour ago • 1 votes
George Dryden

Reading my recent computing retrospective, I realised there was a big section missing: the people in my life that made an impact and helped shape my career. Outside my immediate family, one person made an outsized contribution, and I’m fairly certain that without his influence my life would have taken a very different path. The fact that I’m still here in 2026, still writing code and being fortunate enough to have a career in something I love is testament to him. So I’d like to take a few moments to talk about my old secondary school teacher, George Dryden. Denied Back in 1995, I had a problem. I knew I wanted to study computing at university and build a career out of my passion, but there was a snag. For those unfamiliar with the UK schooling system, when you’re 15-16 you take a set of GCSE exams in a broad range of subjects. After that, you pick around 3 subjects to really focus on over a period of 2 years. These are called A Levels, and they are a big step up and are meant to prepare you for a degree-level course at university. Admission to university is also governed by these results - if you want to study computing, you’re going to need a computing A-Level, and most universities will only accept you (or “make an offer”) if you achieve a certain grade. And whilst I had taken computing at a GCSE level, my school did not offer a computing A-Level course. I instead had to settle on “Design & Technology”, which just didn’t inspire me. Instead of working on my portfolio and projects, I spent most of my time daydreaming and writing code on the Acorn Archimedes computers that were the staple of every 90s UK school. No disrespect to the teachers - they were all awesome - but it just wasn’t for me. I was miserable, and by the end of my first year, I was well on my way to failing outright with my entire future plans seemingly going up in smoke. Someone noticed That’s when George stepped in. He’d taught me computing right the way through my GCSEs, and with no A-Level course on offer, that was officially where his involvement was supposed to have ended. It didn’t. He had noticed my constant presence in the computing labs - before and after school, during lunch breaks, free “study” periods - working on some little pet project or digging into RISC OS internals. I remember him as warm, with a wicked, dry sense of humour, and a refreshingly spiky attitude to authority - I always got the sense he’d worked out for himself which rules were worth taking seriously and which ones weren’t. And he always had time for me. I spent years pestering him with questions that had nothing to do with anything on the syllabus, and he’d always find a way to answer them that actually made sense. He was just as supportive of my odd little obsessions. At one point I’d got deep into the BBS scene, which I thought was the coolest thing ever, and decided what the school really needed was an internal BBS running on its own network. So I wrote one. It was deeply cringeworthy, obviously - but George helped me put posters up around the school advertising it, and even gave it a mention in assembly one morning. I think about five people in total ever checked it out. It didn’t matter: a teacher had stood up in front of the entire school and treated my weird little project like it was worth something, and that was a hugely validating moment for me. Off the books He recognised the passion, and eventually he made a suggestion: What if I quit the Design and Technology course, and instead attempt the A-level course myself? Personally, I also suspect he was enjoying himself. There was some internal school politics behind why computing wasn’t offered at A-Level in the first place - I never knew the details - and I think the prospect of one of his students simply going out and getting the qualification anyway appealed to him on two separate levels. It would get me where I wanted to go, and it would wind up exactly the right people. It wouldn’t be easy, he warned. The school would be against it, plus it was a two-year course which I’d have to cram into one year. I’d have to do it all myself - studying, lesson planning, coursework - he couldn’t help me in an official capacity, but he said he’d advocate for me and help where he could. If I had assignments, he’d send them off to be graded and would give feedback in his own time. He’d enter me in for the exams and also gave me a set of keys to the computer lab so I could use it whenever I needed. It was the first time anybody outside my own family had really shown faith in my abilities and encouraged me to take a stand. It was a pivotal moment for me - I realised if I wanted something badly enough I would have to fight for it, but I could still make it happen. I didn’t have to take “NO” for an answer - a lesson I think I picked up from watching him as much as from anything he ever actually said to me. After a few weeks of dithering, I took the jump. I remember a few awkward meetings with the school administration but thanks to his behind-the-scenes work, I was soon following my dream. An intense year And yes, it was bloody hard work. I had to condense an entire two year course into under a year, be disciplined enough to produce my own study plan, and be critical enough of my own shortcomings that I could focus my study where it was needed. I pretty much lived and breathed it for months straight and was more-or-less a permanent fixture in the labs or school library poring over my course books. I’d make lists of questions and chat to George over lunch, and he’d provide guidance and encouragement. It was a lonely way to learn with no classmates to compare notes with, no lessons to turn up to, and right up until the end I had no real idea whether any of it was good enough - but bit by bit, it started to feel like something I could actually pull off. And sure enough, in the late spring of 1996, I sat down in an exam hall with my fellow students, the only one with an A-Level computing question paper in front of me. The final exam went by in a blur - I can only remember a few of the questions now (and a peculiar obsession with the Pascal language) - but I do remember the euphoria as the invigilator called “time’s up, pens down, close your papers NOW”. I had done it. A few nerve-wracking months later, my Mum drove me into school to pick up my results. I ripped open the envelope and saw it - I’d passed with an A grade! I literally ran up the stairs to George’s office next to the computing labs to thank him personally. I’d taken my camera into school to take a few last photos for memory’s sake and snapped this photo of him before I walked out the school gates for the last time: A different path Because of him, I managed to get into my university of choice, studying computing with a focus on networks. Because of that, I landed my first job working as a “webmaster”, and my career since has been one of the highlights of my life. All these years later, it’s a real privilege to be able to get up each morning and actively look forward to working in an industry I love. Without George stepping up for me and encouraging me to believe in myself, none of that would have happened. I wouldn’t have had the career I have, and I wouldn’t be where I am now. I met my wife when we both worked at a software company - she sat at the desk behind me - so even my home and family life can be traced back to that spring of 1996. And the A-Level itself was only half of what I took away from that year. The qualification opened the door to university, but the lesson that came with it was every bit as important: that a “no” isn’t always the end of it, and that sometimes the answer can be argued with. I’m so proud of what I managed to achieve all those years ago, and even more thankful to have had someone like George in my life to put me on the right track. Mr. Dryden I did see him again after I left. He drank in one of my local pubs - a pub I’d been going to for a good while before I was technically old enough to be in it - and I’d say hello if I spotted him in there, mostly in the months before I moved away to university. After that it was only a handful of times. For years I’d find myself scanning the room whenever I was back home and in for a pint, half expecting him to be at the bar. At some point I stopped seeing him altogether and eventually moved across the country. The trouble was I never really knew how to talk to him outside of school. He was always Mr. Dryden, or just “Sir”, I don’t think I ever once called him George to his face! I was (and still am if I’m honest) fairly socially awkward, and I never worked out how to phrase the thing I actually wanted to say: that he had changed the entire direction of my life, and I wasn’t sure he knew it. So instead I’d say hello, and ask how he was, talk about nothing much, and go back to my friends. Epilogue Sadly, 3 years ago now, I opened the latest issue of my old school alumni newsletter to read that he’d passed away. The photo at the start of this article was taken from his obituary article and I read that he’d had a long illness and had suffered from dementia at the end. I did write to him years ago by email - I don’t know if he ever got it, or was in any capacity to understand what he’d done for me, but I hope so. There’s an old saying by one of my favourite authors (Terry Pratchett) that “no one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away”. In one of his books, a character keeps the memory of his son alive by passing his name along a series of telegraph towers. It’s in that spirit that I’m writing this post - I debated it for many years as it’s very personal to me and I also have no contact with any of George’s family so I have no idea what they would make of it all. But even though it’s 30+ years ago now, I will never forget him or what he did for me - and at least now, if someone searches his name it’ll be recorded here for as long as I’m alive and running this site. Thank you, Sir. George Dryden 1942-2023

yesterday • 1 votes
How Copy-on-Write Works with Memory-Mapped Files

Let’s step inside the kernel and understand how it implements copy-on-write and what are its implications for the performance of user-space systems

yesterday • 1 votes
If we do not stop to help each other, what do we become?

Yesterday, I received this email as a response to You Can't Vibe Code Love. It's such a remarkable and powerful statement that I asked permission to share it here, in its entirety, with personal information redacted: Hey Jeff, Hope you and your family are doing well.

3 days ago • 1 votes
You are still valuable

A frustrated Reddit post about being a condom between an AI and production made the rounds in our team. Here is why I think the opposite is true and what it means for how we review code, plan work and think.

4 days ago • 2 votes
📚 BoredReading

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