In the sprawling empire of Codegon, where algorithms dance and functions intertwine in an elaborate ballet of logic, there exists a notorious guild known to all but seen by few: The Order of No Documentation. This clandestine collective thrives in the shadows of repositories and archives, bound by a singular creed—that to document one's code is to strip away the mystery and challenge of programming. "Where's the fun in just knowing what the code is supposed to do?" they proclaim, a mantra that echoes through the halls of development forums and chat rooms.
Our tale follows the journey of a young coder named Alex, who, upon completing a monumental project—a labyrinth of code so intricate it was said to contain the secrets of the universe itself—faced the daunting task of documentation. Alex, a silent sympathizer of The Order of No Documentation, found themselves at a crossroads. To document, or not to document? That was the question.
With the deadline for the project's unveiling looming, Alex crafted a series of excuses, each more creative than the last, to justify the absence of documentation:
1. The Code is Self-Documenting: Alex's first excuse was a classic, a tribute to the belief that well-written code needs no explanation. "The variables and functions are named so clearly, they tell a story of their own," Alex argued, ignoring the silent cries of future maintainers navigating the code's cryptic corridors.
2. Documentation Stifles Creativity: In a spirited defense of the undocumented approach, Alex suggested that too much clarity could hinder the imaginative process of understanding the code. "Must we cage the wild beast of innovation with the rigid bars of documentation?" they pondered aloud, conveniently overlooking the wild goose chases that often ensued from such freedom.
3. It's on My To-Do List: A favorite among developers, this excuse promised documentation in the nebulous future—a future that, much like the horizon, receded ever further with each step taken toward it.
4. The Code Will Change Anyway: With the winds of development ever-shifting, Alex posited that any documentation would soon be outdated, a relic of a bygone era in the fast-paced world of software evolution. "Why write what will only change tomorrow?" they mused, a valid point marred by the eternal cycle of updates and revisions.
5. Real Coders Don't Need Documentation: In a bold declaration of elite status, Alex asserted that true masters of the craft could navigate the code by intuition alone, a claim that left many a mere mortal coder wandering the maze of functions without a thread of guidance.
As the day of reckoning arrived, and Alex's masterpiece was unveiled to the world, the absence of documentation became the subject of legend. While some hailed the work as a triumph of code-as-art, others lamented the impenetrable nature of the project, a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma, coded in JavaScript.
And so, the tale of "Excuses for Not Writing Documentation" became a cautionary fable in Codegon, a reminder of the delicate balance between the artistry of coding and the pragmatism of communication. It taught that while the quest for elegance and efficiency in code is noble, the true measure of a developer's skill lies not just in the code they write but in the clarity with which they share their creations with the world.
In the end, Alex learned the hard way that documentation, far from being a mere afterthought, is the map that guides explorers through the code, ensuring that the genius of today can be understood, appreciated, and built upon by the coders of tomorrow. And in this realization, the Order of No Documentation found its creed challenged, its members forced to confront the truth that the greatest fun in knowing what the code is supposed to do lies in sharing that knowledge with others.