Why I Document
A Short Story
By Hallett German
.01c2 December 22nd 2013
Copyright 2013 Hallett German
Written by Hallett German
Illustrated by Alessandra R. German
License Notes
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Works by Author:
Amazi Chronicles:
Story #1: How I Overcame My Inventor’s Block
Book #1: Automatons for Peace
Book #2: Translators for Peace (Future)
Corporate Intent
Story #1: Missing Profits?
Book #1: Missing Employees?
Book #2: Missing Owner?
Book #3: Missing Company?
Book #4: Missing Syndicate? (Future)
Olivia Plymouth, International Traveler, and Fashion Consultant:
Story #1: Joyous Travel with the Wrong Suitcase
Book #1: Brazilian Quest
Book #2: Boston Wedding
Book #3 The Year Fashion Changed (Future)
Non-Series Books
Combustible Networks
Ghosts vs. Robots!
In Small Doses (A Collection of Short Stories)
In Small Doses 2 (A Collection of Short Stories)
In Small Doses 3 (A Collection of Short Stories) (Underway)
Killing Thoreau
More details can be found at https://sites.google.com/site/hallettgermanfiction/
[These two very short stories are a present for all the support that you the reader provided throughout the year. Thank you!]
Chapter 1: Why I Document
After reviewing the lengthy catalog of technical documents created by one person, a Reader sought out the Author. They had to know why the Author spent a good part of their workday producing technical documentation. So, the two arranged a meeting. Over coffee, the Reader asked the Author what was their motivation behind creating so many technical documents. The Author responded with the following story:
Once upon a time, large computers called mainframes ruled the land. Desktop computers were still quite new. Portable computers were luggables, hard to move between two points. Smartphones, laptops, tablets, e-readers and other portable electronic devices were seen as unimaginable. These mainframes had various programming languages including command languages. These could run on the file system and did not need to be compiled first.
A young person had just started a new job. Within hours of arriving at the company site, they were given a tall stack of thick manuals and were expected to program in this command language. The new employee stared at the large pile of programming tomes and dug in. But first, they vowed that no one else would ever be in this situation. They learned the command language by reading and programming. All went on well and the employee changed jobs. But, they never forgot their vow and decided later to write a book on this command language. Even though they had never written a chapter, never mind a book before, they had complete faith in themselves that they could complete this task. They created a proposal and sent it to three prospective publishers. Of the three publishers, they heard back from two. One wanted a full chapter and then they would decide. But the second saw the promise and discussions went back and forth. They submitted the idea to some reviewers. One said that the book would take two years or more to complete. The young writer responded that it will be done under a year. And with the assistance of the force of caffeine and a non-stop stream of eclectic music, it was accepted and completed in time.
Sometime after publication, another person came up to the new technical author. They explained that they had been in a similar situation of trying to complete a programming project using this command language. They looked at the large pile of vendor books on this topic and felt lost. They asked the fellow programmers in the next room for assistance and were severely rebuffed. But the lost soul found the author’s book and very happily all became clear.
When the Author heard this story, they felt renewed that their improbable effort had been not for naught. Since that time, they have put in great effort to clarify any technical topics that they encountered which was unclear and filled with documentation holes. This is because they wanted to do all in their power to bring clarity and light over the confusion and uncertainty that is so common on various technical topics. And so, dear Reader, that’s why I document.
Satisfied, the Reader got up, thanked the Author for his good works, and asked him to continue doing so. The Author spoke back, “For as long as I can.” Then they both left to carry on with their lives.
Chapter 2: First Concert
Time and memories can be a funny thing. Even when we reflect on past events, still we may not know if they were important or not. Or how the story ended. For some reason, I started to think back about an insignificant past encounter. I was cooped in for some time during that snowy and extremely cold winter in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. So once the winds died down and the white drifts were starting to melt, it seemed like a good idea to take a healthy stroll. My goal was to go across the Walnut Street Bridge, stroll around the island looking at Susquehanna River, and head back. I could see that others had the same idea of liberation. I walked around the pathway, which was still icy in some parts. Then I came upon an earnest young man. He was sitting on a bench playing songs. It looked like he had not been playing that long but had managed to sing quite listenable works. He sang these original songs from the heart. Although raw, there was an untapped beauty there as he explored vocal compositions about his loves, his longing, and his lifelong goals. I listened for twenty minutes, thanked him, and moved on. I came back to City Island many times but never saw him again. Did he get better and become famous? Or did he give up and now only pulls his battered guitar at nights when the rare desire to express himself overtakes him? I will never know because I never asked his name. No matter. I will likely forget the whole encounter anyway. Time and memories will do that to you.
