The Ties that Bind

The monk Djishin approached master Banzen, troubled.

“The search framework I wrote is currently incapable of handling the tasks assigned to me,” said the monk. “But I still believe it to have great virtue. Will you allow me to develop it further so that these obstacles may be overcome?”

“What is the great virtue of your framework?” asked Banzen absently as he gazed out the window.

The monk replied, “If a database table’s Value Object is annotated appropriately, an entire search form for that table may be created with little or no code!”

“It is certain that the authorship of code is a burden on the Temple,” said Banzen, his eyes following a black-headed finch as it darted to and fro. “If we were not so busy coding, we would have far more time... for coding.”

“The code I would eliminate is only the tedious sort,” said Djishin. “Consider that finch: how high it could fly if it did not have to hunt for insects in the mud!”

The master turned to face the monk.

“Your framework is suitable for simple problems only. It fails when presented with the most minor of complexities—ones that a traditional implementation would easily overcome. How will you remedy this?”

“By giving my framework numerous configuration options and customization hooks,” said the monk.

“Go then,” said Banzen sharply, dismissing the monk with a wave of his hand.

After the monk had departed, Banzen summoned the nun Satou. She approached the master’s desk nervously, keeping well away from the jar upon it.

“When that monk returns to his cubicle,” said Banzen, “Shackle his feet to his desk and leave him there for a day. If tomorrow he complains, free his feet and shackle his hands to the desk instead, telling him that he can now run as fast as he pleases.”