Let me tell you about the bug that made me doubt myself more than any other in this series. I’d fix something — say, a misheard word in a transcript. I’d save the corrected file to the server. I’d open the app on my phone to admire the fix. And the old, wrong word would still be sitting there. So I’d fix it again. Save again. Still wrong. I started to wonder if I’d forgotten how to edit a text file. ...
In the post on search I gave you the clean version: type a word, get every place it was said, tap to jump to that moment. That’s true now. But I made it sound smooth, and for a while it wasn’t. The search had a bug that wore me down — and tracking it down taught me one of the more useful lessons in this series. The symptom was maddening. You’d search a word, see a result, tap “play from here” — and the audio would start playing twenty minutes before the word you searched for. The search found the right thing. It just sent you to the wrong place in the recording. Sometimes by seconds, sometimes by twenty whole minutes. ...
I thought I was done. The tablet was in his hands. The ownership was his — his domain, his account, his server. A lifetime of teaching, gathered and searchable. I’d built a legacy and given it away. The end. And then, at that very handover, the eighty-year-old man told me what was missing. There were teachings, he said, that we didn’t have — recordings that belonged in his life’s work but weren’t in our collection. He knew, because it’s his life’s work, and no one knows it better than the man who lived it. So the “finished” gift wasn’t finished. The tablet is back on my desk right now, plugged in, getting its update. On Sunday I hand it back: Version 2.0. ...