Powerbeats Pros are the best AirPods alternative. That’s according to Avery Hartmans, who wrote about his experience with the wireless headphones for Business Insider after he used them for two months.

Beats really overhauled the look and feel of the Powerbeats with the new Pro model. They’re sleeker, and they feel more premium. The coating on the outside is that kind of smooth-yet-velvety material that’s pleasing to touch, and they have a bit of heft to them (although they’re not so heavy you’ll hate wearing them). Beats also upgraded the case, which is now a hard outer shell that can charge up your headphones, just like the AirPods case. It, too, has a luxurious look and feel, and acts as a good ambassador for the headphones inside: expensive-looking, branded — of course — but not ostentatious.

In the days since Sir Jonny Ive’s imminent departure from Apple was announced, many commented that he had long checked out. The Wall Street Journal published a fascinating, detailed piece outlining his long exit.

As the deadline loomed for the 10th anniversary iPhone, Apple Inc.’s top software designers gathered in the penthouse of an exclusive San Francisco club called The Battery. They had been summoned some 50 miles from the company’s Cupertino, Calif., headquarters to demonstrate planned features of the product to Jony Ive, Apple’s design chief, who seldom came to the office anymore from his San Francisco home. For nearly three hours on that afternoon in January 2017, the group of about 20 designers stood around waiting for Mr. Ive to show, according to people familiar with the episode. After he arrived and listened to the presentations, he left without ruling on their key questions, leaving attendees frustrated. “Many of us were thinking: How did it come to this?” said a person at the meeting. There was a sense “Jony was gone but reluctant to hand over the reins.”

A fascinating feature in Sunday’s New York Times tells the story of Conficker. The giant botnet could have wreaked havoc on the internet, but didn’t. We now have some idea why.

Conficker’s botnet was easily capable of launching any of the above — and far worse. At its height, when it consisted of at least 10 million individual IP addresses, there were few computer networks in the world secure enough to withstand an attack from it. And yet it was used only once, to spread a relatively minor strain of “scareware” intended to frighten unsuspecting users into downloading fake antivirus software. That attack was surprisingly pedestrian, like taking a Formula One racecar for a slow ride around the block. Surely something bigger was coming. But it never did. Why? Who created Conficker, and why bother if they were not going to use it?