The production servers for a key system had been
functioning poorly for many weeks. After each restart the
software behaved well, but as the days passed performance
gradually slowed to a crawl until the system became
unusable. Worse, it was common for the application to run
out of memory and crash during the busiest part of the third
day, taking with it all unsaved session data of logged-in
users. Dozens of angry subscribers began phoning the Temple
to register their dissatisfaction; they had very specific
suggestions about what should be done to the developers. A
team of trained watchdogs was acquired to safeguard the
abbeys.
Unable to reproduce the problem in the development
environment, the Java masters begged for a nightly restart
of the system. This was granted by a near-unanimous
consensus. Yishi-Shing, a host master of the Clan of Iron
Bones, remained the lone dissenter.
The restarts were deemed a success: performance remained
good throughout the day, all but the most-violent users were
placated, and the Java masters were able to turn their
attention to more interesting matters.
One night the Java masters and developers awoke to the sound
of frantic barking outside their halls. In the moonlight a
Temple watchdog could be seen, fur bristling, paws spread
wide as it faced down a group of menacing figures clad all
in black. The dog was just about to leap when a whistling
sound pierced the air. The animal whimpered and fell, its
legs snared by the ropes of a thrown dai-chui. The black
figures scattered into darkness.
From the shadows the host master emerged. He knelt before
the helpless dog to retrieve the dai-chui that was clearly
his own.
The Java masters demanded: “Those men may return before
morning. Why did you subdue the watchdog?”
Yishi-Shing replied: “His barking disturbed my sleep.”
