Software engineers know that the bug does not care about what we believe.
Prayers naught, passion naught, purpose naught. It does not care.
The bug is the difference between what we wish we had told the computer to do and the instructions it actually received.
In the film The Last Emperor Of China. The child emperor hides a cricket in the cushions of his throne. It slumbers in the dark for decades. Then, as an old man, the former child comes to retrieve it. Then, in the sunlight, it chirps.
A bug can be like that. A Sleeping Beauty, waiting for the princes’ kiss.
It cares not what the author feels, wishes, suffers. The safe space, the hallowed grounds, the silent prayer, it cares not.
When birds flock, it looks like magic, a grand plan of communicated knowledge. But actually, each bird just clues its movements from the bird nearby.
So it is with the bug, lying in wait, it’s action to trigger, with no conscious malice.
