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The Unix and Internet Fundamentals HOWTO


by Eric S. Raymond

v1.1, 3 December 1998

This document describes the working basics of PC-class computers,

Unix-like operating systems, and the Internet in non-technical lan­

guage.

______________________________________________________________________

Table of Contents

 

1. Introduction

1.1 Purpose of this document

1.2 Related resources

1.3 New versions of this document

1.4 Feedback and corrections

2. Basic anatomy of your computer

3. What happens when you switch on a computer?

4. What happens when you run programs from the shell?

5. How do input devices and interrupts work?

6. How does my computer do several things at once?

7. How does my computer keep processes from stepping on each other?

8. How does my computer store things on disk?

8.1 Low-level disk and file system structure

8.2 File names and directories

8.3 Mount points

8.4 How a file gets looked up

8.5 How things can go wrong

9. How do computer languages work?

9.1 Compiled languages

9.2 Interpreted languages

9.3 P-code languages

10. How does the Internet work?

10.1 Names and locations

10.2 Packets and routers

10.3 TCP and IP

10.4 HTTP, an application protocol

 

______________________________________________________________________

1. Introduction

 

 

1.1. Purpose of this document

This document is intended to help Linux and Internet users who are

learning by doing. While this is a great way to acquire skills,

sometimes it leaves peculiar gaps in one's knowledge of the basics --

gaps which can make it hard to think creatively or troubleshoot

effectively, from lack of a clear mental model of what is really going

on.

I'll try to describe in clear, simple language how it all works. The

presentation will be tuned for people using Unix or Linux on PC-class

hardware. Nevertheless I'll usually refer simply to `Unix' here, as

most of what I will describe is constant across platforms and across

Unix variants.

I'm going to assume you're using an Intel PC. The details differ

slightly if you're running an Alpha or PowerPC or some other Unix box,

but the basic concepts are the same.

I won't repeat things, so you'll have to pay attention, but that also

means you'll learn from every word you read. It's a good idea to just

skim when you first read this; you should come back and reread it a

few times after you've digested what you have learned.

This is an evolving document. I intend to keep adding sections in

response to user feedback, so you should come back and review it

periodically.

 

1.2. Related resources

If you're reading this in order to learn how to hack, you should also

read the How To Become A Hacker FAQ

<http://www.tuxedo.org/~esr/faqs/hacker-howto.html>. It has links to

some other useful resources.

 

1.3. New versions of this document

 

New versions of the Unix and Internet Fundamentals HOWTO will be

periodically posted to comp.os.linux.help and and news.answers

<news:answers>. They will also be uploaded to various Linux WWW and

FTP sites, including the LDP home page.

You can view the latest version of this on the World Wide Web via the

URL <http://sunsite.unc.edu/LDP/HOWTO/Fundamentals-HOWTO.html>.

 

1.4. Feedback and corrections

 

If you have questions or comments about this document, please feel

free to mail Eric S. Raymond, at esr@thyrsus.com. I welcome any

suggestions or criticisms. I especially welcome hyperlinks to more

detailed explanations of individual concepts. If you find a mistake

with this document, please let me know so I can correct it in the next

version. Thanks.

 

2. Basic anatomy of your computer

Your computer has a processor chip inside it that does the actual

computing. It has internal memory (what DOS/Windows people call

``RAM'' and Unix people often call ``core''). The processor and

memory live on the motherboard which is the heart of your computer.

Your computer has a screen and keyboard. It has hard drives and

floppy disks. The screen and your disks have controller cards that

plug into the motherboard and help the computer drive these outboard

devices. (Your keyboard is too simple to need a separate card; the

controller is built into the keyboard chassis itself.)

We'll go into some of the details of how these devices work later.

For now, here are a few basic things to keep in mind about how they

work together:

All the inboard parts of your computer are connected by a bus.

Physically, the bus is what you plug your controller cards into (the

video card, the disk controller, a sound card if you have one). The

bus is the data highway between your processor, your screen, your

disk, and everything else.

The processor, which makes everything else go, can't actually see any

of the other pieces directly; it has to talk to them over the bus.

The only other subsystem it has really fast, immediate access to is

memory (the core). In order for programs to run, then, they have to

be in core.

When your computer reads a program or data off the disk, what actually

happens is that the processor uses the bus to send a disk read request

to your disk controller. Some time later the disk controller uses the

bus to signal the computer that it has read the data and put it in a

certain location in core. The processor can then use the bus to look

at that memory.

Your keyboard and screen also communicate with the processor via the

bus, but in simpler ways. We'll discuss those later on. For now, you

know enough to understand what happens when you turn on your computer.

 

3. What happens when you switch on a computer?

A computer without a program running is just an inert hunk of

electronics. The first thing a computer has to do when it is turned

on is start up a special program called an operating system. The

operating system's job is to help other computer programs to work by

handling the messy details of controlling the computer's hardware.

The process of bringing up the operating system is called booting

(originally this was bootstrapping and alluded to the difficulty of

pulling yourself up ``by your bootstraps''). Your computer knows how

to boot because instructions for booting are built into one of its

chips, the BIOS (or Basic Input/Output System) chip.

The BIOS chip tells it to look in a fixed place on the lowest-numbered

hard disk (the boot disk) for a special program called a boot loader

(under Linux the boot loader is called LILO). The boot loader is

pulled into core and started. The boot loader's job is to start the

real operating system.

The loader does this by looking for a kernel, loading it into core,

and starting it. When you boot Linux and see "LILO" on the screen

followed by a bunch of dots, it is loading the kernel. (Each dot

means it has loaded another disk block of kernel code.)

(You may wonder why the BIOS doesn't load the kernel directly -- why

the two-step process with the boot loader? Well, the BIOS isn't very

smart. In fact it's very stupid, and Linux doesn't use it at all

after boot time. It was originally written for primitive 8-bit PCs

with tiny disks, and literally can't access enough of the disk to load

the kernel directly. The boot loader step also lets you start one of

several operating systems off different places on your disk, in the

unlikely event that Unix isn't good enough for you.)

Once the kernel starts, it has to look around, find the rest of the

hardware, and get ready to run programs. It does this by poking not

at ordinary memory locations but rather at I/O ports -- special bus

addresses that are likely to have device controller cards listening at

them for commands. The kernel doesn't poke at random; it has a lot of

built-in knowledge about what it's likely to find where, and how

controllers will respond if they're present. This process is called

autoprobing.

Most of the messages you see at boot time are the kernel autoprobing

your hardware through the I/O ports, figuring out what it has

available to it and adapting itself to your machine. The Linux kernel

is extremely good at this, better than most other Unixes and much

better than DOS or Windows. In fact, many Linux old-timers think the

cleverness of Linux's boot-time probes (which made it relatively easy

to install) was a major reason it broke out of the pack of free-Unix

experiments to attract a critical mass of users.

But getting the kernel fully loaded and running isn't the end of the

boot process; it's just the first stage (sometimes called run level

1).

The kernel's next step is to check to make sure your disks are OK.

Disk file systems are fragile things; if they've been damaged by a

hardware failure or a sudden power outage, there are good reasons to

take recovery steps before your Unix is all the way up. We'll go into

some of this later on when we talk about ``how file systems can go

wrong''.

The kernel's next step is to start several daemons. A daemon is a

program like a print spooler, a mail listener or a WWW server that

lurks in the background, waiting for things to do. These special

programs often have to coordinate several requests that could

conflict. They are daemons because it's often easier to write one

program that runs constantly and knows about all requests than it

would be to try to make sure that a flock of copies (each processing

one request and all running at the same time) don't step on each

other. The particular collection of daemons your system starts may

vary, but will almost always include a print spooler (a gatekeeper

daemon for your printer).

Once all daemons are started, we're at run level 2. The next step is

to prepare for users. The kernel starts a copy of a program called

getty to watch your console (and maybe more copies to watch dial-in

serial ports). This program is what issues the login prompt to your

console. We're now at run level 3 and ready for you to log in and run

programs.

When you log in (give a name and password) you identify yourself to

getty and the computer. It then runs a program called (naturally

enough) login, which does some housekeeping things and then starts up

a command interpreter, the shell. (Yes, getty and login could be one

program. They're separate for historical reasons not worth going into

here.)

In the next section, we'll talk about what happens when you run

programs from the shell.

 

4. What happens when you run programs from the shell?

The normal shell gives you the '$' prompt that you see after logging

in (unless you've customized it to something else). We won't talk

about shell syntax and the easy things you can see on the screen here;

instead we'll take a look behind the scenes at what's happening from

the computer's point of view.

After boot time and before you run a program, you can think of your

computer of containing a zoo of processes that are all waiting for

something to do. They're all waiting on events. An event can be you

pressing a key or moving a mouse. Or, if your machine is hooked to a

network, an event can be a data packet coming in over that network.

The kernel is one of these processes. It's s special one, because it

controls when the other user processes can run, and it is normally the

only process with direct access to the machine's hardware. In fact,

user processes have to make requests to the kernel when they want to

get keyboard input, write to your screen, read from or write to disk,

or do just about anything other than crunching bits in memory. These

requests are known as system calls.

Normally all I/O goes through the kernel so it can schedule the

operations and prevent processes from stepping on each other. A few

special user processes are allowed to slide around the kernel, usually

by being given direct access to I/O ports. X servers (the programs

that handle other programs' requests to do screen graphics on most

Unix boxes) are the most common example of this. But we haven't

gotten to an X server yet; you're looking at a shell prompt on a

character console.

The shell is just a user process, and not a particularly special one.

It waits on your keystrokes, listening (through the kernel) to the

keyboard I/O port. As the kernel sees them, it echos them to your

screen then passes them to the shell. When the kernel sees an `Enter'

it passes your line of text to the shell. The shell tries to interpret

those keystrokes as commands.

Let's say you type `ls' and Enter to invoke the Unix directory lister.

The shell applies its built-in rules to figure out that you want to

run the executable command in the file `/bin/ls'. It makes a system

call asking the kernel to start /bin/ls as a new child process and

give it access to the screen and keyboard through the kernel. Then

the shell goes to sleep, waiting for ls to finish.

When /bin/ls is done, it tells the kernel it's finished by issuing an

exit system call. The kernel then wakes up the shell and tells it it

can continue running. The shell issues another prompt and waits for

another line of input.

Other things may be going on while your `ls' is executing, however

(we'll have to suppose that you're listing a very long directory).

You might switch to another virtual console, log in there, and start a

game of Quake, for example. Or, suppose you're hooked up to the

Internet. Your machine might be sending or receiving mail while

/bin/ls runs.

 

5. How do input devices and interrupts work?

Your keyboard is a very simple input device; simple because it

generates small amounts of data very slowly (by a computer's

standards). When you press or release a key, that event is signalled

up the keyboard cable to raise a hardware interrupt.

It's the operating system's job to watch for such interrupts. For

each possible kind of interrupt, there will be an interrupt handler, a

part of the operating system that stashes away any data associated

with them (like your keypress/keyrelease value) until it can be

processed.

What the interrupt handler for your keyboard actually does is post the

key value into a system area near the bottom of core. There, it will

be available for inspection when the operating system passes control

to whichever program is currently supposed to be reading from the

keyboard.

More complex input devices like disk or network cards work in a

similar way. Above, we referred to a disk controller using the bus to

signal that a disk request has been fulfilled. What actually happens

is that the disk raises an interrupt. The disk interrupt handler then

copies the retrieved data into memory, for later use by the program

that made the request.

Every kind of interrupts has an associated priority level. Lower-

priority interrupts (like keyboard events) have to wait on higher-

priority interrupts (like clock ticks or disk events). Unix is

designed to give high priority to the kinds of events that need to be

processed rapidly in order to keep the machine's response smooth.

In your OS's boot-time messages, you may see references to IRQ

numbers. You may be aware that one of the common ways to misconfigure

hardware is to have two different devices try to use the same IRQ,

without understanding exactly why.

Here's the answer. IRQ is short for "Interrupt Request". The

operating system needs to know at startup time which numbered

interrupts each hardware device will use, so it can associate the

proper handlers with each one. If two different devices try use the

same IRQ, interrupts will sometimes get dispatched to the wrong

handler. This will usually at least lock up the device, and can

sometimes confuse the OS badly enough that it will flake out or crash.

 

6. How does my computer do several things at once?

It doesn't, actually. Computers can only do one task (or process) at

a time. But a computer can change tasks very rapidly, and fool slow

human beings into thinking it's doing several things at once. This is

called timesharing.

One of the kernel's jobs is to manage timesharing. It has a part

called the scheduler which keeps information inside itself about all

the other (non-kernel) processes in your zoo. Every 1/60th of a

second, a timer goes off in the kernel, generating a clock interrupt.

The scheduler stops whatever process is currently running, suspends it

in place, and hands control to another process.

1/60th of a second may not sound like a lot of time. But on today's

microprocessors it's enough to run tens of thousands of machine

instructions, which can do a great deal of work. So even if you have

many proceses, each one can accomplish quite a bit in each of its

timeslices.

In practice, a program may not get its entire timeslice. If an

interrupt comes in from an I/O device, the kernel effectively stops

the current task, runs the interrupt handler, and then returns to the

current task. A storm of high-priority interrupts can squeeze out

normal processing; this misbehavior is called thrashing and is

fortunately very hard to induce under modern Unixes.

In fact, the speed of programs is only very seldom limited by the

amount of machine time they can get (there are a few exceptions to

this rule, such as sound or 3-D graphics generation). Much more

often, delays are caused when the program has to wait on data from a

disk drive or network connection.

An operating system that can routinely support many simultaneous

processes is called "multitasking". The Unix family of operating

systems was designed from the ground up for multitasking and is very

good at it -- much more effective than Windows or the Mac OS, which

have had multitasking bolted into it as an afterthought and do it

rather poorly. Efficient, reliable multitasking is a large part of

what makes Linux superior for networking, communications, and Web

service.

 

7. How does my computer keep processes from stepping on each other?

The kernel's scheduler takes care of dividing processes in time. Your

operating system also has to divide them in space, so that processes

don't step on each others' working memory. The things your operating

system does to solve this problem are called memory management.

Each process in your zoo needs its own area of core memory, as a place

to run its code from and keep variables and results in. You can think

of this set as consisting of a read-only code segment (containing the

process's instructions) and a writeable data segment (containing all

the process's variable storage). The data segment is truly unique to

each process, but if two processes are running the same code Unix

automatically arranges for them to share a single code segment as an

efficiency measure.

Efficiency is important, because core memory is expensive. Sometimes

you don't have enough to hold the entirety of all the programs the

machine is running, especially if you are using a large program like

an X server. To get around this, Unix uses a strategy called virtual

memory. It doesn't try to hold all the code and data for a process in

core. Instead, it keeps around only a relatively small working set;

the rest of the process's state is left in a special swap space area

on your hard disk.

As the process runs, Unix tries to anticipate how the working set will

change and have only the pieces that are needed in core. Doing this

effectively is both complicated and tricky, so I won't try and

describe it all here -- but it depends on the fact that code and data

references tend to happen in clusters, with each new one likely to

refer to somewhere close to an old one. So if Unix keeps around the

code or data most frequently (or most recently) used, you will usually

succeed in saving time.

Note that in the past, that "Sometimes" two paragraphs ago was "Almost

always," -- the size of core was typically small relative to the size

of running programs, so swapping was frequent. Memory is far less

expensive nowadays and even low-end machines have quite a lot of it.

On modern single-user machines with 64MB of core and up, it's possible

to run X and a typical mix of jobs without ever swapping.

Even in this happy situation, the part of the operating system called

the memory manager still has important work to do. It has to make

sure that programs can only alter their own data segments -- that is,

prevent erroneous or malicious code in one program from garbaging the

data in another. To do this, it keeps a table of data and code

segments. The table is updated whenever a process either requests

more memory or releases memory (the latter usually when it exits).

This table is used to pass commands to a specialized part of the

underlying hardware called an MMU or memory management unit. Modern

processor chips have MMUs built right onto them. The MMU has the

special ability to put fences around areas of memory, so an out-of-

bound reference will be refused and cause a special interrupt to be

raised.

If you ever see a Unix message that says "Segmentation fault", "core

dumped" or something similar, this is exactly what has happened; an

attempt by the running program to access memory outside its segment

has raised a fatal interrupt. This indicates a bug in the program

code; the core dump it leaves behind is diagnostic information

intended to help a programmer track it down.

8. How does my computer store things on disk?

When you look at a hard disk under Unix, you see a tree of named

directories and files. Normally you won't need to look any deeper

than that, but it does become useful to know what's going on

underneath if you have a disk crash and need to try to salvage files.

Unfortunately, there's no good way to describe disk organization from

the file level downwards, so I'll have to describe it from the

hardware up.

 

8.1. Low-level disk and file system structure

The surface area of your disk, where it stores data, is divided up

something like a dartboard -- into circular tracks which are then pie-

sliced into sectors. Because tracks near the outer edge have more

area than those close to the spindle at the center of the disk, the

outer tracks have more sector slices in them than the inner ones.

Each sector (or disk block) has the same size, which under modern

Unixes is generally 1 binary K (1024 8-bit words). Each disk block

has a unique address or disk block number.

Unix divides the disk into disk partitions. Each partition is a

continuous span of blocks that's used separately from any other

partition, either as a file system or as swap space. The lowest-

numbered partition is often treated specially, as a boot partition

where you can put a kernel to be booted.

Each partition is either swap space (used to implement ``virtual

memory'' or a file system used to hold files. Swap-space partitions

are just treated as a linear sequence of blocks. File systems, on the

other hand, need a way to map file names to sequences of disk blocks.

Because files grow, shrink, and change over time, a file's data blocks

will not be a linear sequence but may be scattered all over its

partition (from wherever the operating system can find a free block

when it needs one).

 

8.2. File names and directories

Within each file system, the mapping from names to blocks is handled

through a structure called an i-node. There's a pool of these things

near the ``bottom'' (lowest-numbered blocks) of each file system (the

very lowest ones are used for housekeeping and labeling purposes we

won't describe here). Each i-node describes one file. File data

blocks live above the inodes.

Every i-node contains a list of the disk block numbers in the file it

describes. (Actually this is a half-truth, only correct for small

files, but the rest of the details aren't important here.) Note that

the i-node does not contain the name of the file.

Names of files live in directory structures. A directory structure

just maps names to i-node numbers. This is why, in Unix, a file can

have multiple true names (or hard links); they're just multiple

directory entries that happen to point to the same inode.

 

8.3. Mount points

In the simplest case, your entire Unix file system lives in just one

disk partition. While you'll see this arrangement on some small

personal Unix systems, it's unusual. More typical is for it to be

spread across several disk partitions, possibly on different physical

disks. So, for example, your system may one small partition where

the kernel lives, a slightly larger one where OS utilities live, and a

much bigger one where user home directories live.

The only partition you'll have access to immediately after system boot

is your root partition, which is (almost always) the one you booted

from. It holds the root directory of the file system, the top node

from which everything else hangs.

The other partitions in the system have to be attached to this root in

order for your entire, multiple-partition file system to be

accessible. About midway through the boot process, your Unix will

make these non-root partitions accessible. It will mount each one

onto a directory on the root partition.

For example, if you have a Unix directory called `/usr', it is

probably a mount point to a partition that contains many programs

installed with your Unix but not required during initial boot.

 

8.4. How a file gets looked up

Now we can look at the file system from the top down. When you open a

file (such as, say, /home/esr/WWW/ldp/fundamentals.sgml) here is what

happens:

Your kernel starts at the root of your Unix file system (in the root

partition). It looks for a directory there called `home'. Usually

`home' is a mount point to a large user partition elsewhere, so it

will go there. In the top-level directory structure of that user

partition, it will look for a entry called `esr' and extract an inode

number. It will go to that i-node, notice it is a directory

structure, and look up `WWW'. Extracting that i-node, it will go to

the corresponding subdirectory and look up `ldp'. That will take it

to yet another directory inode. Opening that one, it will find an i-

node number for `fundamentals.sgml'. That inode is not a directory,

but instead holds the list of disk blocks associated with the file.

 

8.5. How things can go wrong

Earlier we hinted that file systems can be fragile things. Now we

know that to get to file you have to hopscotch through what may be an

arbitrarily long chain of directory and i-node references. Now

suppose your hard disk develops a bad spot?

If you're lucky, it will only trash some file data. If you're

unlucky, it could corrupt a directory structure or i-node number and

leave an entire subtree of your system hanging in limbo -- or, worse,

result in a corrupted structure that points multiple ways at the same

disk block or inode. Such corruption can be spread by normal file

operations, trashing data that was bot in the original bad spot.

Fortunately, this kind of contingency has become quite uncommon as

disk hardware has become more reliable. Still, it means that your

Unix will want to integrity-check the file system periodically to make

sure nothing is amiss. Modern Unixes do a fast integrity check on

each partition at boot time, just before mounting it. Every few

reboots they'll do a much more thorough check that takes a few minutes

longer.

If all of this sounds like Unix is terribly complex and failure-prone,

it may be reassuring to know that these boot-time checks typically

catch and correct normal problems before they become really

disasterous. Other operating systems don't have these facilities,

which speeds up booting a bit but can leave you much more seriously

screwed when attempting to recover by hand (and that's assuming you

have a copy of Norton Utilities or whatever in the first place...).

9. How do computer languages work?

We've already discussed ``how programs are run''. Every program

ultimately has to execute as a stream of bytes that are instructions

in your computer's machine language. But human beings don't deal with

machine language very well; doing so has become a rare, black art even

among hackers.

Almost all Unix code except a small amount of direct hardware-

interface support in the kernel itself is nowadays written in a high-

level language. (The `high-level' in this term is a historical relic

meant to distinguish these from `low-level' assembler languages, which

are basically thin wrappers around machine code.)

There are several different kinds of high-level languages. In order

to talk about these, you'll find it useful to bear in mind that the

source code of a program (the human-created, editable version) has to

go through some kind of translation into machine code that the machine

can actually run.

 

9.1. Compiled languages

The most conventional kind of language is a compiled language.

Compiled languages get translated into runnable files of binary

machine code by a special program called (logically enough) a

compiler. Once the binary has been generated, you can run it directly

without looking at the source code again. (Most software is delivered

as compiled binaries made from code you don't see.)

Compiled languages tend to give excellent performance and have the

most complete access to the OS, but also to be difficult to program

in.

C, the language in which Unix itself is written, is by far the most

important of these (with its variant C++). FORTRAN is another

compiled language still used among engineers and scientists but years

older and much more primitive. In the Unix world no other compiled

languages are in mainstream use. Outide it, COBOL is very widely used

for financial and business software.

There used to be many other compiler languages, but most of them have

either gone extinct or are strictly research tools. If you are a new

Unix developer using a compiled language, it is overwhelmingly likely

to be C or C++.

 

9.2. Interpreted languages

An interpreted language depends on an interpreter program that reads

the source code and translates it on the fly into computations and

system calls. The source has to be re-interpreted (and the

interpreter present) each time the code is executed.

Interpreted languages tend to be slower than compiled languages, and

often have limited access to the underlying operating system and

hardware. On the other hand, they tend to be easier to program and

more forgiving of coding errors than compiled languages.

Many Unix utilities, including the shell and bc(1) and sed(1) and

awk(1), are effectively small interpreted languages. BASICs are

usually interpreted. So is Tcl. Historically, the most important

interpretive language has been LISP (a major improvement over most of

its successors). Today Perl is very widely used and steadily growing

more popular.

9.3. P-code languages

Since 1990 a kind of hybrid language that uses both compilation and

interpretation has become increasingly important. P-code languages

are like compiled languages in that the source is translated to a

compact binary form which is what you actually execute, but that form

is not machine code. Instead it's pseudocode (or p-code), which is

usually a lot simpler but more powerful than a real machine language.

When you run the program, you interpret the p-code.

P-code can can run nearly as fast as a compiled binary (p-code

interpreters can be made quite simple, small and speedy). But p-code

languages can keep the flexibility and power of a good interpreter.

Important p-code languages include Python and Java.

 

10. How does the Internet work?

To help you understand how the Internet works, we'll look at the

things that happen when you do a typical Internet operation --

pointing a browser at the front page of this document at its home on

the Web at the Linux Documentation Project. This document is

 

http://sunsite.unc.edu/LDP/HOWTO/Fundamentals.html

 

 

which means it lives in the file LDP/HOWTO/Fundamentals.html under the

World Wide Web export directory of the host sunsite.unc.edu.

 

10.1. Names and locations

 

The first thing your browser has to do is to establish a network

connection to the machine where the document lives. To do that, it

first has to find the network location of the host sunsite.unc.edu

(`host' is short for `host machine' or `network host'; sunsite.unc.edu

is a typical hostname). The corresponding location is actually a

number called an IP address (we'll explain the `IP' part of this term

later).

To do this, your browser queries a program called a name server. The

name server may live on your machine, but it's more likely to run on a

service machine that yours talks to. When you sign up with an ISP,

part of your setup procedure will almost certainly involve telling

your Internet software the IP address of a nameserver on the ISP's

network.

The name servers on different machines talk to each other, exchanging

and keeping up to date all the information needed to resolve hostnames

(map them to IP addresses). Your nameserver may query three or four

different sites across the network in the process of resolving

sunsite.unc.edu, but this usually happens very quickly (as in less

than a second).

The nameserver will tell your browser that Sunsite's IP address is

152.2.22.81; knowing this, your machine will be able to exchange bits

with sunsite directly.

 

 

 

 

10.2. Packets and routers

 

What the browser wants to do is send a command to the Web server on

Sunsite that looks like this:

 

GET /LDP/HOWTO/Fundamentals.html HTTP/1.0

 

 

Here's how that happens. The command is made into a packet, a block

of bits like a telegram that is wrapped with three important things;

the source address (the IP address of your machine), the destination

address (152.2.22.81), and a service number or port number (80, in

this case) that indicates that it's a World Wide Web request.

Your machine then ships the packet down the wire (modem connection to

your ISP, or local network) until it gets to a specialized machine

called a router. The router has a map of the Internet in its memory

-- not always a complete one, but one that completely describes your

network neighborhood and knows how to get to the routers for other

neighborhoods on the Internet.

Your packet may pass through several routers on the way to its

destination. Routers are smart. They watch how long it takes for

other routers to acknowledge having received a packet. They use that

information to direct traffic over fast links. They use it to notice

when another routers (or a cable) have dropped off the network, and

compensate if possible by finding another route.

There's an urban legend that the Internet was designed to survive

nuclear war. This is not true, but the Internet's design is extremely

good at getting reliable performance out of flaky hardware in am

uncertain world.. This is directly due to the fact that its

intelligence is distributed through thousands of routers rather than a

few massive switches (like the phone network). This means that

failures tend to be well localized and the network can route around

them.

Once your packet gets to its destination machine, that machine uses

the service number to feed the packet to the web server. The web

server can tell where to reply to by looking at the command packet's

source IP address. When the web server returns this document, it will

be broken up into a number of packets. The size of the packets will

vary according to the transmission media in the network and the type

of service.

 

10.3. TCP and IP

To understand how multiple-packet transmissions are handled, you need

to know that the Internet actually uses two protocols, stacked one on

top of the other.

The lower level, IP (Internet Protocol), knows how to get individual

packets from a source address to a destination address (this is why

these are called IP addresses). However, IP is not reliable; if a

packet gets lost or dropped, the source and destination machines may

never know it. In network jargon, IP is a connectionless protocol;

the sender just fires a packet at the receiver and doesn't expect an

acknowledgement.

IP is fast and cheap, though. Sometimes fast, cheap and unreliable is

OK. When you play networked Doom or Quake, each bullet is represented

by an IP packet. If a few of those get lost, that's OK.

The upper level, TCP (Transmission Control Protocol), gives you

reliability. When two machines negotiate a TCP connection (which they

do using IP), the receiver knows to send acknowledgements of the

packets it sees back to the sender. If the sender doesn't see an

acknowledgement for a packet within some timeout period, it resends

that packet. Furthermore, the sender gives each TCP packet has a

sequence number, which the receiver can use you reassemble packets in

case they show up out of order. (This can happen if network links go

up or down during a connection.)

TCP/IP packets also contain a checksum to enable detection of data

corrupted by bad links. So, from the point of view of anyone using

TCP/IP and nameservers, it looks like a reliable way to pass streams

of bytes between hostname/service-number pairs. People who write

network protocols almost never have to think about all the

packetizing, packet reassembly, error checking, checksumming, and

retransmission that goes on below that level.

 

10.4. HTTP, an application protocol

Now let's get back to our example. Web browsers and servers speak an

application protocol that runs on top of TCP/IP, using it simply as a

way to pass strings of bytes back and forth. This protocol is called

HTTP (Hyper-Text Transfer Protocol) and we've already seen one command

in it -- the GET shown above.

When the GET command goes to sunsite.unc.edu's webserver with service

number 80, it will dispatched to a server daemon listening on port 80.

Most Internet services are implemented by server daemons that do

nothing but wait on ports, watching for and executing incoming

commands.

If the design of the Internet has one overall rule, it's that all the

parts should be as simple and human-accessible as possible. HTTP, and

its relatives (like the Simple Mail Transfer Protocol, SMTP, that is

used to move electronic mail between hosts) tend to use simple

printable-text commands that end with a carriage-return/line feed.

This is marginally inefficient; in some circumstances you could get

more speed by using a tightly-coded binary protocol. But experience

has shown that the benefits of having commands be easy for human

beings to describe and understand outweigh any marginal gain in

efficiency that you might get at the cost of making things tricky and

opaque.

Therefore, what the server daemon ships back to you via TCP/IP is also

text. The beginning of the response will look something like this (a

few headers have been suppressed):

 

HTTP/1.1 200 OK

Date: Sat, 10 Oct 1998 18:43:35 GMT

Server: Apache/1.2.6 Red Hat

Last-Modified: Thu, 27 Aug 1998 17:55:15 GMT

Content-Length: 2982

Content-Type: text/html

 

 

These headers will be followed by a blank line and the text of the web

page (after which the connection is dropped). Your browser just

displays that page. The headers tell it how (in particular, the

Content-Type header tells it the returned data is really HTML).


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