Counting · Debug Season · Pulse Beat
Before he told anyone, he did the counting. It was the part he least wanted to do. He wrote a script to search the history of the sync, back to March, and list every page that had ever landed in the…
Before he told anyone, he did the counting.
It was the part he least wanted to do. He wrote a script to search the history of the sync, back to March, and list every page that had ever landed in the wrong account. The script ran for eleven minutes. When it finished it printed a single number.
Nineteen.
Nineteen pages, over seven months, had been copied into the wrong notebook. Nineteen times a stranger had been one tap from reading something private. Eleven of those pages had been deleted by the recipient without a word. Eight were still there.
He read the list of recipients, and the list of authors, and the dates, and then he sat very still, because he knew what he had to do and he knew exactly how it would feel.
He wrote on the sticky note, under the first line: Tell all of them. Tell everyone. Today.