After 6 years of intense study, I’ve finally earned my PhD in Physics (with a Masters along the way) as of last Friday.
That was a heck of a ride. What to do and where to go next?
After 6 years of intense study, I’ve finally earned my PhD in Physics (with a Masters along the way) as of last Friday.
That was a heck of a ride. What to do and where to go next?
Dallas Semiconductor, now owned by Maxim Integrated, is well known for making some excellent real-time clocks (RTCs). Take, for example, the DS1307: it’s simple, works with essentially any cheap 32,768 Hz watch crystal, is easily accessible over I2C, and is extremely power efficient (500nA current when running the oscillator on battery power).
As great as it is, the DS1307 has a major drawback: it relies on an external crystal and lacks any sort of temperature compensation. Thus, any change in temperature will cause the clock to drift. A 20ppm error in the frequency of the crystal adds up to about a minute of error per month. Not so great.
Fortunately, Maxim also offers the DS3231, which is advertised as an “Extremely Accurate I2C-Integrated RTC/TCXO/Crystal”. This chip has the 32kHz crystal integrated into the package itself and uses a built-in temperature sensor to periodically measure the temperature of the crystal and, by switching different internal capacitors in and out of the crystal circuit, can precisely adjust its frequency so it remains constant. It’s specified to keep time within 2ppm from 0°C to +40°C, and 3.5ppm from -40°C to +85°C, which means the clock would only drift 63 and 110 seconds per year, respectively. Very cool.
The one (very minor) downside is that it draws about twice the current, a bit less than 1 μA, than the DS1307. Still, a common 220mAh CR2032 battery could power the chip for at least a decade with no problem. Such a circuit would be mostly limited by the CR2032’s self-discharge rate anyway.
In my case, I wanted to use such RTCs on several of my Raspberry Pis that are not regularly (read: almost never) connected to the internet, and so cannot always get their time from NTP servers.
Some clever person designed a very simple board that fits on the Raspberry Pi’s pin headers for power, ground, and I2C and has the DS3231 chip, pull-up resistors for the I2C bus, and a decoupling capacitor. It even has pads for a backup battery (not included, but adding a battery holder and coin cell is straightforward). Chinese vendors on eBay sell the board for about $1.50, with free shipping. Perfect.
Here’s the board I’m using on one of my Pis, along with the backup battery and holder I added.
Considering that the DS3231 is not a cheap chip, costing ~$3.80 USD per chip in minimum quantities of 1000 from Digi-Key, it’s a bit surprising that complete board only costs $1.50 per board. Like Edward Mallon, I wondered if these were counterfeit chips that were pin and function compatible, QC rejects, or somehow otherwise illegitimate chips.
For science, I ordered a few extra boards and tested them over the last year, where “tested” means “set the time on the chips with a Pi that was NTP synchronized to a GPS timing receiver, disconnected them from the Pi, and left them on the shelf running on battery power for a year”. The chips would be in direct sunlight in the mornings, and the temperature in the room would range between about 15°C and 30°C throughout the year. Not extreme, but not precisely regulated either. I did not adjust the “aging register” in the chip to trim the oscillator before this test, and the register was set to its default value of “0”. After a year, the chip with the largest drift was only 16 seconds off, which is about 0.5 ppm. That’s well within spec, so I’m happy. If these chips were counterfeit, they were at least good counterfeits that worked as advertised.
However, I wanted to look closer so I sacrificed one of the chips for science. Thanks to my friend Jesse for reminding me that I can just snip off the legs of the chip rather than trying to de-solder it. That made things a lot easier.
Here’s the top of the package. It claims to be an SN model, which means it is specced for the full -40°C to +85°C temperature range. The date code says it was made in week 33 of 2011, as part of lot 917AC. The # mark means it’s RoHS compliant.
The laser markings seemed a bit dodgy and not like the normal high-quality laser markings I see on other Maxim chips. I contacted Maxim, explained the situation, and sent photos of the package and die (see below). After checking their records, they say the style of the markings, the date code, and lot number are all consistent with that particular lot made in 2011, which strongly suggests the chips are legitimate. They also reminded me that they do not warrant or guarantee any products purchased from unauthorized resellers. Good to know, and not unexpected.
I zoomed in with my USB microscope to examine the markings in more detail. It’s a bit hard to see in this close-up, but you should be able to see the digits “31”. Compare these markings to those on the Maxim MAX3232 chip I investigated earlier and you can see why I was a bit skeptical as to their legitimacy at first. Obviously, Maxim must have different types of laser marking equipment on their different production lines.
I normally would digest the epoxy packaging of the chip in acid at work, butI was at home that day and didn’t have access to the chemicals and safety equipment I have in the lab at work, plus I didn’t want to dissolve the integrated crystal and its metal can. Instead, I embrittled the packaging by heating it in the flame of a common Bic lighter for several seconds and then quenching it in a glass of cool water. I repeated this process several times.
Next, I sanded down the back of the ship (assuming that the interesting parts of the die would face upwards, which they were — if they hadn’t been on the top, I’d sacrifice another chip and sand the top down) with fine sandpaper until I hit metal.
It turns out I was a bit too vigorous in my sanding, and accidentally sanded through the crystal’s metal housing and broke one of the forks of the tuning fork oscillating element. Oops.
In the photos below, the notch on the chip is to the left, so pin 1 is to the top left. The main die is behind the large copper pad to the left. The fuzzy “hair” at the bottom are strands of the epoxy package that I didn’t clean up.
This was interesting, but even after Maxim said the packing and exterior markings looked legitimate, I was curious if the die itself was an actual Dallas/Maxim die or if it was a fake. Using tweezers and a fine, sharp knife I was able to crumble away more of the epoxy package and remove the die. Unfortunately, the bond wires were still embedded in the package and so broke off when I removed the die. I also slightly scratched part of the die and cracked off part of the top-right corner. Clearly, acid digestion is the way to go.
Here’s the first look at the die itself. I had washed it with isopropanol and both the chip and the microscope slide are a bit wet. The die measures ~3.6 x 2.3 mm, and the images below were taken with my USB microscope.
First, I wanted to check to see if the die was actually made by Maxim or if it was a fake. The die clearly says “DALLAS SEMICONDUCTOR”, as well as “©2004 (M) MAXIM”. Looks legit. That’s refreshing.
Here’s some more photos of the die.
In addition to my cheap USB microscope at home, I was later able to take the die into the lab at work and use the (very expensive) Zeiss microscope to take more pictures. I was also able to clean it more thoroughly using the ultrasonic cleaner so the images came out considerably better.
Alas, compatibility issues between the camera mounted on the microscope and my computer prevented me from using the camera to get high-quality photos at this time. I’ve ordered an adapter so I can get better photos,
but it will be several weeks. At that time I will either update this post or link to a new one. I plan on creating large composite images of the die at various levels of zoom, and with different optical filters. In the interim, here are a few photos I took using my smartphone aimed through the eyepiece of the lab microscope. They are nowhere near as clear or stunning in appearance as they are when viewed directly through the eyepiece or via the on-scope camera.
Addendum 2017-07-29: I’ve been able to get the camera on the microscope to cooperate and have gotten several high-quality photos. As the microscope has an extremely short depth of focus, particularly at high magnification, some images have been “focus stacked” by combining several images at different focus depths. Similarly, the large composite images are made from several individual images that may be focused slightly differently from each other. These processes may cause visual artifacts to be present.
In general, images with green and red colored layers use standard reflected microscopy with no filters, while images with blue and gold layers use reflected differential interference contrast (DIC).
That’s all the photos for now. I hope you found this as interesting as I did.
I have a bunch of eBay-sourced DC-DC converters that I use for a bunch of purposes around the house. Most are ordinary “LM2596” (in scare quotes, as most seem to be clones: they’re marked as LM2596 and generally work well, but have different switching frequencies. Supposedly this is an issue with such things.) buck converters configured as adjustable, constant voltage power supplies where the output voltage is set by a multi-turn potentiometer. Very handy.
Others can be used in either constant voltage mode or constant current mode. For the latter, a serpentine strip of PCB trace acts as a low-value sense resistor. An LM358 dual op-amp integrates the difference between the voltage across the trace and a voltage set by a potentiometer, with the output connected to the regulator’s feedback pin via an LED so you can tell when the regulator is in constant current mode. Another potentiometer sets when the “charging” LED lights up; this is purely cosmetic, and the LED turns off when the current through the regulator drops below the setpoint set by the potentiometer.
Caleb Engineering has an excellent teardown of such a regulator here.
Here’s a few pictures of mine:
Today, I wanted to use one of these modules to charge some supercapacitors in a controlled way, so I grabbed one of the buck modules, set the voltage limit to 2.6V (to stay within the 2.7V maximum limit of the supercapacitor) and the current limit to 500 mA. For testing, I connected the input to a 12V supply and everything worked fine.
I then connected the input to a 5V supply, which is more convenient for most things I do, only to watch the regulator go into current-limiting mode and push out 3.5A (!!). The current limiting potentiometer did nothing, even when turned all the way down to zero. The capacitors and the LM2596 started getting toasty warm (uh-oh), so I unplugged things to investigate.
It turns out I forgot a crucial detail: the op-amp is powered by a 78L05 5V linear regulator connected to the input voltage. Although the LM2596 switching regulator used to power the load has a dropout voltage of less than a volt (and the 2.4V difference between the 5V input and 2.6V output is perfectly suitable in any operating condition), the 78L05 regulator for the op-amp requires at least 7V input to stay in regulation. Supplying it with only 5V input meant the output voltage was less than the regulator needed, and so the feedback loop was broken and the LM2596 tried its hardest to pull the voltage up to 2.6V, maxing out its output current.
As soon as I connected the input of the module to a 9V or 12V supply, it worked great, since the 78L05 had a sufficient voltage difference to stay in regulation.
It’s worth being aware of this issue, particularly if your input power supply doesn’t have a lot of “oomph” behind it: if the input voltage ever drops below 7V (such as when supplying a heavy load) the 78L05 will drop out of regulation and the LM2596 will draw even more current, thus holding down the input voltage and preventing the system from recovering. Fuses are your friend in such conditions.
To prevent such issues, you might consider using some of the buck-boost modules (which are also available in constant voltage only, or CV/CC variants). They use a boost converter to first step up the voltage to a higher voltage (I have several different ones, some with LM2575 boost converters, while others have XL6009 chips, both boost to around 28V), which the LM2596 then bucks down to the desired output voltage. The 78L05 can handle input voltages up to 30V and the op-amp currents are low, so it works fine. There’s some loss of efficiency when using two converters instead of one and the maximum output voltage is slightly lower, but I haven’t found any edge conditions in the buck-boost configuration that cause bizarre failures like with the buck-only converters — one such buck-boost constant current supply has been driving the IR LEDs in my DIY babycam for more than a year from a 5V input without any hitches.
Edit: Although the constant current buck-boost modules commonly found on eBay will work fine with lower input voltages because the linear regulator gets its input from the boosted voltage from the first stage, it seems they cannot start up properly if they’re connected to a dead short when they’re first connected to input power. The switching regulators go into current-limiting mode and the linear regulator doesn’t get enough voltage to properly start the op-amp for constant current mode. I blew a bunch of fuses testing this (better than blowing up components!). Once the switching regulators have started up and the linear regulator is in regulation, the constant current regulation works as expected.
This issue could have been avoided by adding two resistors and a small capacitor to the ON/OFF pin on the LM2596 buck regulator for a delayed startup. This would keep the buck regulator offline for enough time that the boost and linear regulator, as well as the op-amp, would start up and be ready. Alas, due to the layout of the boards from the eBay suppliers, modifying the existing board isn’t really feasible.
In short: the buck-boost regulators with constant current regulation are better in general since they have fewer failure modes once they’re running, but the output current needs to be limited for a few moments when they’re first connected while the constant current regulation circuitry comes online otherwise they just max out their current. Not what you want. Adding some inrush limiting circuitry (e.g. an NTC thermistor and, optionally, a bypass MOSFET for higher efficiency) would work great.
My daughter turns three in June. Yesterday, we were playing and an idea popped into my mind: she likes to help me build various electronic things at my desk, but she’s never really built anything of her own. I asked if she wanted to make something with me and she energetically agreed.
Here it is:
It’s a simple two-transistor astable multivibrator that alternates between the red and green LEDs at around 2Hz. Everything to the right of the red wire is pretty bog-standard: 5% tolerance 470 ohm current-limiting resistors for the LEDs and 100k ohm resistors for charging the 10uF capacitors. Two BC548 transistors do the switching. Some 24 AWG wire connects parts too far apart (or awkwardly placed) for component leads to reach.
In retrospect, I could have laid things out better, but she didn’t mind. The only major thing I’d change is using ceramic capacitors instead of electrolytic, as I’d like to keep this circuit around until she’s older and have it still work without the capacitors drying out, but I didn’t have any 10uF ceramics at hand. I’ll order some, have her pick them out, and swap them out.
On the left is a simple terminal block for connecting a power supply. I wanted the circuit to be robust in terms of polarity, so I used a bridge rectifier so it can operate regardless of how the DC power supply is connected (I could have added a filter cap so AC could be used too, but I don’t have any wall warts with AC out, and she likes batteries, so this was not a major design consideration). I could have used a cheap diode, but the bridge rectifier uses Schottky diodes and so drops only 0.6V compared to a 1N400x’s 0.7V, plus it means the circuit will work (rather than simply not be destroyed) regardless of how it’s connected, so that was an easy and robust choice.
A 50mA polyfuse provides protection from faults (important when using old cellphone Li-Ion batteries as a power source). All the exposed underside contacts of the unfused section (i.e. terminal blocks and rectifier) are liberally coated with hot glue for insulation, with the jumper wires on the top and bottom tacked down with hot glue as well. All solder and components are lead-free, with burrs and other sharp points on connections filed smooth for minimal danger.
My daughter loved picking the components out of the parts drawers, listened attentively while I explained what they did and how they work, and helped me put them in the correct places on the breadboard. After things worked and she (later) went to bed, I moved the same parts over to a protoboard for a bit more durability. Now she’s running around the house waving it (and the 1000mAh cellphone battery stuck to the bottom with double-sided tape) around, blinking it at her baby brother, and integrated it into playing with her other toys.
This makes me happy.
I recently acquired a FLIR ONE thermal camera, which deserves a separate post reviewing it, but for now let’s look at the TP4056 Li-Ion charger with integrated protection circuitry.
This is a pretty bog-standard, dirt-cheap Li-Ion charger that works really well. It does what it says on the tin: CC/CV charging, with charging current adjustable by replacing a specific resistor, 5V MicroUSB input, and pads/holes to accept connections to the cell, the load, and the charging power source (if one doesn’t want to use the USB port). No complaints at all, and no surprises.I like that it has a battery protection circuit as well: the protection chip monitors the charging or discharging current and voltage, and protects the cell against overvoltage (e.g. from over-charging), undervoltage (e.g. from over-discharging), and over-current situations by switching off the MOSFET that connects the battery to the load and charging chip.The FET is arranged in a cool way such that, even if the over-discharge protection has tripped and the FET is open, you can trickle charge through the FET’s body diode at a very low rate in order to slowly charge the cell up without stressing it. Once it reaches the release voltage, the cell will charge at the normal speed.One of the main reasons I bought the FLIR ONE thermal camera is to observe various electronic devices I have and see how hot they get, where the heat is dissipated, etc. Since the TP4056 is a linear charger and produces a modest amount of heat while charging, I figured this would make a great first test. Here’s one of the images I snapped:
As you can see, the chip gets moderately toasty when charging at 1A, and I can’t hold my finger on it for a more than a second or two. This is a top view with the chip and other components visible to the camera. The TP4056 also has a thermal “radiator” (using the language in the datasheet) pad on the bottom that should be connected to a copper plane on the PCB. The board has a bunch of thermal vias under the chip to conduct the heat away to the other side and the backside of the board is about the same temperature as the front. Neat.
I foresee a lot of fun (and useful projects) with both the camera and the battery charger.
I ran into some trouble today getting an HC-05 bluetooth-to-serial module to communicate with my Trimble Resolution T GPS receiver.
The ResT will send some data automatically once per second, but needs to be polled to send other data. Lacking the polling packet, weird things happen.
Some devices have built-in pull-up resistors so the module works fine, but the ResT doesn’t. The HC-05’s TX pin is open-drain, so without a pull-up it does nothing, causing confusion. Putting a >1k pull-up to 3.3v on that pin works wonders.
This is the first of (hopefully) several “notes to self”. They are intended as a record of my various tinkerings and processes that I’ve learned. Although publicly readable, they’re meant as notes to myself in the context of my personal setup and are not really intended as complete “how-to” guides. If you find it useful, awesome! If not, sorry.
The version of NTPd packaged in Raspbian Jessie doesn’t have support for PPS (why?!) or the Motorola Oncore driver enabled. It needs to be recompiled to support those options. The Oncore hardware is quite old, so I understand them not wasting a bit of space by enabling the Oncore driver at compile-time (though really, disk space is cheap and abundant), but no PPS? C’mon.
Continue reading “Note to Self: Raspberry Pi & Motorola Oncore UT+ setup”
I’m pretty sure that it’s some sort of universal law that all Certificate Authority websites must be filled with obfuscating marketing-ese wording, links to “white papers”, contradictory and uninformative text, and content generally tailored for manager-types.
Honestly, I don’t know why they do this: TLS certificates are essentially always handled by technical staff — not management — at companies. Smaller organizations typically leave the administration of TLS certs to their commercial web hosts (again, technical staff). Individual site operators either know how to handle certs or don’t, but for those who don’t the marketing fluff on a CA website isn’t likely to help at all.
There may be some very specific reason why a particular CA is required, such as needing to support particular software or devices that only include a limited selection of roots, and while these reasons may be decided by managers and executives, the actual deployment is done by technical staff. The CA websites should really be tailored for technical people, not managers.
In addition to the typical manager-speak found on CA websites, the amount of confusing information is shocking. Some of it is merely misleading (e.g. implying that a particular certificate enables 128/256-bit symmetric ciphers rather than merely vouching for the identity of the server; the supported symmetric ciphers are set in the server configuration independently of the certificate and are negotiated with the client), while others are outright deceptive: Symantec/Thawte go so far as to claim that Server-Gated Cryptography is still relevant in this day and age (hint: it isn’t). In addition to being absurdly insecure and out of date, 16+ year old “export-grade” browsers that require SGC for strong cryptography are likely completely incapable of rendering modern websites in a comprehensible manner. Supporting such ancient browsers is a Bad Thing.
I’m also surprised at how hideous some of the CA websites appear: quite a few look like they haven’t been updated in at least a decade.
Lastly, there’s just way too many options presented by CAs. Domain-validated certificates are cheap and easy, though there’s no reason why phishing websites and the like can’t get perfectly-valid DV certs for their misleading or fraudulent sites: they do, after all, legitimately control their domain.
Still, DV certs provide reasonable protection from man-in-the-middle attacks, and CAs like Let’s Encrypt make DV certs available for free in an easily automated and installed way. If Let’s Encrypt’s ACME validation system won’t work for certain purposes, commercial CAs like Comodo and GeoTrust offer incredibly cheap DV certs in the form of PositiveSSL ($5/year) and RapidSSL ($9/year), respectively. Even Thawte offers relatively cheap “SSL123” DV certs for $31/year. There’s really no excuse for not using HTTPS.
Extended validation certs are useful for major companies, banks, etc. as the CA actually verifies the legitimacy of the entity behind the domain name. It should be extremely unlikely for any EV certificate to be issued illegitimately, though users might not actually check for anything more than the “green bar” (if they do that at all), so I generally think EV certs are a good idea.
That said, I’m not sure why there’s such an extreme price difference for EV certs. For example, compare Comodo ($101/year) and GeoTrust ($125/year) with Symantec ($600/year to $900/year) — the roots are equally ubiquitous and trusted, perform the same validation, and users never bother to check which CA actually issued a cert. So long as the green bar appears and the browser doesn’t yell at them, they don’t care.
Organizational and individually-validated certs are essentially worthless. They appear the same as DV certs in browser interfaces (no green bar), and essentially nobody bothers to check the O and OU fields in a certificate.
Charging more for wildcards is annoying, as it doesn’t cost the CA anything extra to issue; one of the reasons I liked StartSSL (before their WoSign-related drama) was that they only charged for things that required human action. Domain-validated certificates for non-commercial purposes are completely free of charge. OV and IV certs require a human to perform the validation, and customers pay an annual fee to be validated. Once validated, customers could issue an unlimited number of certificates — including wildcards — for any domains they controlled. EV certs were a bit different, but still quite cheap. That was a refreshing change from the business-as-usual of the CA industry, though StartSSL seem to have screwed themselves over with shady behavior after being acquired by WoSign.
Simply put, CA websites and their offerings suck. They’ve always sucked, currently suck, and likely will always suck in the future. I have no idea why such wildly-profitable organizations can’t design a website that doesn’t suck and is targeted to the relevant technical people.
Edit: It’s been brought to my attention that SSLs.com no longer offers GeoTrust, Thawte, Symantec certificates, and instead only offer Comodo certificates. I’ll keep the links here for historical purposes, but if you want to get such certificates you’ll need to find another vendor.
Last year, StartSSL, a popular Israeli certificate authority of which I myself have been a customer, was quietly purchased by WoSign, a CA in China. All well and good, such things happen fairly often in the industry.
However, they cut some corners: WoSign didn’t disclose the purchase to Mozilla, in violation of Mozilla’s policy. On its own, that’s not a super-critical issue, but that’s not all they did: based on information provided in a Mozilla report, WoSign has been caught backdating SHA1-signed certificates to avoid an industry-wide ban on that hash algorithm due to its cryptographic weakness, going so far as to provide a standardized internal framework for issuing backdated certificates. Additionally, they used the newly-acquired StartSSL to issue at least one backdated certificate.
Evidently they did this because Windows XP SP2 (a long-outdated version of XP, which is itself in end-of-life status) is quite popular in China and does not support SHA256 signatures, so there is a demand for SHA1-signed certificates. In addition, some payment processors in the US didn’t plan ahead and found some of their old payment terminals only supported SHA1 and were unprepared for the deadline and so got WoSign to backdate some new certificates to avoid any issues.
In addition, WoSign’s back-end software used for validating domains, issuing certificates, etc. has evidently had a series of bugs that have resulted in them improperly issuing certificates for GitHub and the University of Central Florida without the approval of either organization. A bug also allowed an attacker to bypass domain validation entirely and have WoSign issue certificates for unvalidated domains. While bugs are an unavoidable part of software development, such critical bugs should have been found very early in testing and never made it to production.
Their internal policies seemed geared toward “issue first, validate later and revoke if necessary”, which is absolutely the wrong way to issue certificates and which is in violation of the CA/Browser Forum Baseline Requirements.
Shockingly, WoSign’s auditor, Ernst & Young (Hong Kong), didn’t catch any of these glaring issues.
Needless to say, Mozilla isn’t happy and is discussing what to do. Right now, the most likely response is to untrust new WoSign and StartSSL-issued certificates for a period of at least one year, after which time they could reapply for trusted status by undergoing both the standard audits as well as some extra, Mozilla-specified scrutiny. Existing certificates from the CAs would continue to be recognized, but no new trusted certificates could be issued by those companies.
I find the solution to be quite elegant: CAs have occasionally played a bit fast and loose, and have relied upon their “too big to fail” status. Revoking the trust bits outright for a major CA like Symantec/VeriSign, Comodo, or even relatively smaller ones like StartSSL and WoSign, would cause a massive disruption for innocent customers of that CA and was generally only considered for the most extreme cases (see DigiNotar).
Instead, the solution proposed by Mozilla allows innocent customers to continue to use their certificates without disruption until they come time for renewal, at which point they’ll need to find some other option. The CA, however, is penalized by being unable to issue new certificates (if they do issue new certificates they’ll be untrusted, and Mozilla has threatened to blacklist the entire CA immediately if the backdates certs to avoid the restriction) and thus loses both reputation and business.
I suspect that Google, Microsoft, and Apple will follow Mozilla’s lead, so the penalty will be essentially universal.
Ars Technica has more details on the situation.
Personally, I’m saddened by the whole situation: other than a somewhat-clunky web interface, StartSSL had been a solid CA for years prior to their acquisition. The one black mark was their response to Heartbleed (they were charging for revoking compromised certificates) which, although in accordance with their policies, was a bit of a dick move and bad PR. I used StartSSL certs on many of my sites and had recommended them to others.
After the acquisition by WoSign (which had not been pointed out for nearly a year), StartSSL’s website switched to a poorly-translated version made in their China office (according to StartSSL). Although the speed of certificate issuance improved, the overall change was negative, with the web interface being laughably bad to use. The quality of customer service also decreased.
Still, StartSSL brought it on themselves. I no longer use StartSSL certs and don’t recommend anyone use them going forward. I may change my mind at some point in the future once they prove they’re trustworthy again, but not now.
Currently, I recommend using Let’s Encrypt, an open, automated and free CA — this site uses LE-issued certs. Installation and server configuration is automatic and easy, and renewals are handled automatically by cron job. It couldn’t be easier and I’m extremely happy.
For certain other, internal services I maintain that don’t play nice with Let’s Encrypt, I like Comodo PositiveSSL certificates sold by the reseller SSLs.com. Certs are cheap (around $5/year), issued in minutes, with a validity period up to 3 years. Unlimited reissues are included. Customer service is responsive and clueful. The one downside is their self-service interface only supports RSA certificates; if you want to use ECC certificates (Comodo PositiveSSL offers both all-RSA and all-ECC chains, which is nice) you’ll need to send the CSR to their customer service staff, who will manually submit it to the CA. They usually do this quite quickly.
A while back I needed to interface a GPS timing receiver that only has an RS-232 serial connection with one of my Raspberry Pis. The Pi only supports TTL-level serial and only tolerates voltages between 0-3.3V its the UART pins.
Enter the MAX3232, a chip from Maxim Integrated that converts between RS-232 and TTL serial with supply voltages from 3.0 to 5.5V. It produces “true” RS-232-level voltages (both positive and negative) using built-in charge pumps and some small external capacitors. Just the ticket for what I needed.
Alas, the MAX3232 isn’t really something one can run down to the local electronics shop (and there isn’t any such shop where I live in Switzerland, as far as I know) and pick up. Typically it’s purchased by manufacturers in quantity from major suppliers. Hobbyists like myself need to turn to the internet where such things are available in abundance for cheap from China, though one must be wary of counterfeits. Of course, I could order from legitimate Swiss distributors, but small-quantity pricing and shipping are extremely high (>$10 USD per chip!) compared to major US distributors like DigiKey and Mouser.
In my case, I ended up buying a few boards like this one from an online vendor in China. The listing specifically states it had a MAX3232 chip. My thought was that if it was a legitimate chip, cool. If not, it’d be an interesting experiment and I’d get some cheap DE-9 connectors out of the deal.
To the naked eye, everything seemed to be reasonable. The chip did have markings identifying it as a MAX3232 (falsely, as I later discovered; read on!). The board worked and the chip functioned within the specs in the Maxim datasheet and it even broke out the chip’s second RS-232-to-TTL channel on the header pins.
However, the first board failed after a few weeks, drew significant current, and dramatically overheated. By “overheated” I mean “blister-raising burn on my fingertip”-level-hot. Also, the data-transfer LEDs were glowing faintly all the time rather than flickering on and off when data was flowing.
Figuring this was just some bad luck on my part (this is before I got the anti-static mat on my desk), I swapped it out for another board. I was particularly careful with anti-static precautions, and put the board over a small glass container just in case it overheated and caught fire. Although it didn’t catch fire (thankfully!), it did fail after a few weeks and overheated just like the first one.
Ok, so something’s going on, but what? Since the chips had obviously failed, I figured I couldn’t harm them with some ham-fisted SMD desoldering, so I took them off their respective boards.
Here’s the results of my handiwork, as viewed under a petrographic microscope in the lab (I used a handheld camera aimed through the microscope eyepiece for all the microscope photos, hence the weird vignetting at the edges):
All right, quit laughing! De-soldering SOIC chips using a handheld soldering iron is no fun.
Anyway, the markings are inconsistent and seem pretty low-quality. Definitely not something I’d expect from Maxim. For comparison, I had ordered a free MAX3232 sample directly from Maxim (thanks, guys!) and it arrived a few days later. Here’s the legit chip:
According to the date code, I ended up killing this chip in the name of science about 2-4 weeks after it was made. Sorry, little guy. Anyway, you can see the markings of the real chip are distinctly different from the fake chips. The differences are striking even with a handheld magnifying glass: the real chip has distinct laser-etched markings with a textured surface. The fake chips have much “weaker” etching with a much flatter, duller surface.
Next, I decapsulated all three chips (two fake and one genuine) by dissolving them in hot nitric acid followed by an acetone wash and a few minutes in the ultrasonic cleaner. Don’t try this at home (or at least not in my home!): I did it in a controlled environment with a fume hood, proper ventilation, protective gear, etc. Zeptobars and the CCC have some interesting guides on how to do this if you’re interested. Be careful.
Alas, I wasn’t able to do the preferred method of just dissolving the package over the silicon die itself. Instead, I decided to dissolve the entire chip package, legs and all. Interestingly, the genuine one dissolved much more rapidly (but at a consistent rate) than the fakes; the fakes resisted the acid for nearly an hour, then quickly dissolved in a few minutes. The package seemed to be the same blackish epoxy that most chips are encased in, so I have no idea why they would behave so differently in acid. Any materials-type people have any ideas?
Here’s what the real MAX3232 die looks like:
Note the gold bond wires are still attached and didn’t dissolve in the acid bath. I’m not a semiconductor expert, so I can’t tell you what the actual regions of the chip actually are, but it’s a pretty picture and serves as a good reference for comparing the others. Also, the genuine die is about 50% longer than the fakes so it couldn’t fit entirely in the field of view of the microscope.
Here’s a closeup of the “Maxim” marking on the genuine chip as well as a date code. Presumably it refers to when the chip design was finalized.
Now, let’s look at the fakes. Both fakes were, unsurprisingly, identical.
Without magnification, the dies are pretty small and it’s hard to make out any detail.
Under the microscope, we can see the die quite well.
The above photo was taken at the same magnification as the genuine MAX3232 die photo: you can see the fake die is much smaller, has a much different appearance, and didn’t use gold bond wires. Whatever metal was used for the wire dissolved away in the acid.
Both chips had the same markings: they appear to have been designed in November 2009, and the marking on the second line appears to be “WWW01” (though I’m not sure if it’s the number zero or the letter “O”). I’ve had no luck figuring out what that means.
As I mentioned above, I’m not an expert on low-level chip design or failure analysis and I was unable to find any obvious-to-the-layman failure in the chips that would have resulted in them passing significant current and overheating. Any ideas?