Shorts:Tales from the Janitor
MoNoRi-Chan (Esan Arc)
MoNoRi-Chan's financial journey had taken him across Thailand, from the bustling streets he knew well to the quieter rhythm of his brother's in Esan home in Khon Kaen City. Here, surrounded by family and fueled by strong local coffee, he'd settled into a routine of coding projects fueled by long focused hours.
Elon Lex's job offer had pulled MoNoRi-Chan across the country. The promise of respectable pay, free food, and a comfortable stay had been tempting, but it was the warmth in Lex's voice that really tipped the scales. Lex spoke of Mex, the school finance system MoNoRi-Chan had built 5 years ago, with an almost reverent gratitude. It had saved him countless hours and headaches. Now, Lex wanted more, bigger, better. And he wanted MoNoRi-Chan to build it.
Landing at Lex's Khon Kaen City home, the warm welcome washed away any travel fatigue. This wasn't just a client, this was someone who genuinely valued his work. As MoNoRi-Chan set up his workspace in the guest room, he reflected on the stark contrast between working for American companies, with their focus on individualistic output, and the tighter-knit, almost familial expectations of places like the State of Sarkhan, where your value extended beyond your code. Here, respect and a decent quality of life were woven into the fabric of the work agreement.
With everything set up–a comfortable chair, a powerful computer, and a fridge stocked with snacks – MoNoRi-Chan got to work. The years melted away as he fell into the familiar rhythm of design, development, and deployment. Lex hovered just enough to provide guidance and encouragement, but not enough to be a distraction.
Late one night, sipping on a cold drink after another coding breakthrough, MoNoRi-Chan felt a wave of contentment. Here, his skills were used to make a tangible difference, not just churn out profit for a faceless corporation. Sure, the pay in Sarkhan might not rival Silicon Valley, but with free lodging, delicious meals, and genuine appreciation, the equation felt more balanced, more human. And that, maybe, was the greatest reward of all.
The keyboard symphony echoed through MoNoRi-Chan's apartment in the pre-dawn hush. 4 AM. Another sleepless night, fueled by caffeine and the ghost of Elon Musk's mantra – "Fail fast." That notion of relentless iteration, so crucial to SpaceX rocket launches, had seeped into every fiber of Elon Lex's school project. It was exhilarating and more than a little terrifying.
His attendance check system had been a marvel of CI/CD agility during testing. But the sting of failure was never far behind. The server crash, a brutal production-level explosion after reaching 12,000 records, hummed in his mind. This wasn't a rocket gracefully returning to Earth; this was his code imploding in a blaze of server overload. He couldn't control the hardware, but the optimization, that was on him.
The keyboard symphony had abruptly died. MoNoRi-Chan stared in disbelief at the server console, not at lines of code, but at the stark pronouncement of hardware failure. Two disks down, the RAID array in disarray. It was a failure beyond his direct control, a gut-punch reminder that software existed within a fragile, physical world.
Gone was the afterglow of yesterday's testing success. Now, there was the driving pulse of a new challenge. He wasn't just a coder anymore, he was an astronaut patching a leaky capsule mid-flight. With narrowed eyes, he launched into code analysis. Database calls, loops, logic flow – everything was fair game. Each potential culprit scrutinized, a digital scavenger hunt for the hidden flaw.
Fail Fast, Fix Faster
Elon Lex, ever the optimist, saw this not as a disaster but as a resilience test, a real-world iteration of 'fail fast.' Half a day vanished into the urgent hum of rebuilds. Servers finally creaked back to life, but the crash was etched into MoNoRi-Chan's mind - a brutal lesson in the necessity of backups, the hidden cost of haste.
Evening fell, and with it came a lifeline. In a Discord channel filled with the collective wisdom of fellow devs, MoNoRi-Chan connected with GamerXP, an optimization guru. Together, they dissected the attendance system. Three hours blurred past in a flurry of shared screen sessions and frantic code suggestions.
Hours twisted by, the staccato of keystrokes his only soundtrack. The solution came like a revelation: instead of the brute force n*n*n queries, a single, elegant fetch orchestrated with JavaScript's Async Await magic. Which is a more efficient query there, a streamlined data structure here. It was like tweaking a rocket's trajectory in micro-increments, hoping to avoid a catastrophic re-entry...
Suddenly, the webpage wasn't just loading, it was *snapping* into place. Loading times plummeted from a sluggish 5-7 seconds to a split-second render followed by the near-instant population of data. MoNoRi-Chan felt a rush he hadn't experienced since the system's first successful test. Exhaustion threatened to take over, but the adrenaline of this newfound efficiency kept him going. The hotfix was pushed.
Sleep came hard that Friday night. Every closed eye brought visions of cascading errors and crashing servers. Yet, there was a thrill too - the thrill of learning the hard way, the thrill of a team forming from the chaos - Lex the tireless production tester, GamerXP the code whisperer, and himself, MoNoRi-Chan, the weary architect learning, one line at a time, one failure at a time.
The sun began its ascent, throwing light across his screen as the once-frozen server finally stirred. Not with its former speed, perhaps, but it was alive. MoNoRi-Chan could sense the changes, the system breathing a little easier with each optimized line.
He knew this was a never-ending spacewalk. Optimization was an ongoing odyssey in the pursuit of an invisible, ever-moving target. But for now, the panic had subsided. The server held, the system functioned, and the crimson red GitHub issue was fading to a less urgent orange.
The Airdrop
But as supplies dwindled, a nagging memory surfaced. Igq of Grassstation, the quirky Cannabis dispensary owner back at the Ricefields, owed him a small debt.
Flashback: MoNoRi-Chan pulled Igq's BMW out of the driveway, then swiped his card for 500 baht worth of gas to get it to the workshop – a favor Igq was all too quick to accept and slow to repay. A little scheme formed in MoNoRi-Chan's head - a barter for kush supplies instead of cash. Igq, ever the pragmatist, readily agreed.
Fast forward back to the Thursday evening, the delivery arrived. As MoNoRi-Chan tore into the package, he couldn't help but chuckle. It was as eclectic a mix as Igq himself: [Contents Redacted] it wasn't just double the value of his 500 baht, it was like a customized care package, designed by his friend's unique sense of what a developer might need.
That evening, plugged in and happily coding, MoNoRi-Chan shared the story with Lex. "Stonks!" Lex exclaimed, his eyes twinkling. "Investment with a delayed but amplified return – that's some next-level financial strategy right there!"
MoNoRi-Chan gave a wry smile. It was less about the money and more about the quirky camaraderie of their world. "No matter if you live a quarter-mile away or halfway away to esan apart," he mused, "Igq of Grassstation delivers – in his own special way." He tapped away at his keyboard, the whir of the new fan keeping pace with the steady click of keys. The supply crisis had passed, thanks to a debt repaid in true friendship fashion.
Tomorrow might bring a new wave of production chaos, another unforeseen glitch courtesy of Elon Lex's unwavering faith and a horde of time-card punching students. But for tonight, MoNoRi-Chan could savor a different kind of success. Not the flashy success of a new launch, but the quiet, tenacious victory born of sleepless nights, endless code refactoring, and a solo developer's 'fail fast, fix faster' resolve.
Friday, 10 AM: Judgement Day
As Thousands of records were flooding the database, a digital tidal wave threatening to submerge his carefully crafted code. But MoNoRi-Chan wasn't sweating like he had the night before. Instead, a sense of quiet anticipation filled him. He'd already battled his demons in the darkness, those 4 AM optimization frenzies fueled by caffeine and dread. This time, there was just focus, a sort of programmer's zen.
He glanced from the server load graphs to the sleek, responsive webpage. It almost hummed with efficiency. The memory of last night's breakthrough with GamerXP, the refactored queries, the elegant dance of Async Await, brought a smile to his lips. Sure, it was a bit of a fourth-wall break, him being aware of the 'story' of this production deployment, but it served a purpose. This wasn't just code anymore, it was the result of failure, sweat, and collaboration.
Each lightning-fast page load, each data table populating in a blink, was its own tiny victory. Was the optimization perfect? No. Would there be future crashes, unexpected bugs in this complex, ever-evolving system? Undoubtedly. But that was the life of a solo web developer, especially in Elon Lex's chaotic world. There was no finish line, just the relentless pursuit of improvement, of learning to build systems that were faster, stronger, and more resilient.
As students and teachers across the school punched in their attendance, as the server hummed steadily under the load, MoNoRi-Chan knew those sleepless nights, that adrenaline-charged fix after the crash, had been worth it. There was a fierce pride in his work, a satisfaction deeper than any clean test run. This was the chaotic, unpredictable, beautiful mess of a production system, and he, in his own small way, was keeping it all spinning.
Conversation with Capitalism Daddy
MoNoRi-Chan remembered "Capitalism Daddy", his investor friend, with a wry grin. Nicknamed for his relentless focus on bottom-line numbers, he'd scoffed at the idea of optimizing a perfectly functional system. "Investors don't care about your elegant code;" Daddy had said, "They care about returns. If it ain't broke, don't waste time fixing it."
But MoNoRi-Chan knew better. He saw the subtle frustration in users' eyes, the slight delays that added up to wasted hours. Sure, it worked, but it could work better. The code was his canvas, and the user experience was his masterpiece. That's why he'd spent those sleepless nights, refactoring and rewriting, not just for Lex, but for the school employees forced to interact with his system every day.
Now, as he glanced at the usage statistics, his heart swelled with a quiet satisfaction. The numbers told their own story. Those post-optimization queries hummed with efficiency, loading times were slashed, and even the most old-school, tech-resistant employee was logging into the system regularly. It wasn't a flashy feature, not the kind of thing investors fawned over, but it solved an invisible problem in the daily operations workflow.
MoNoRi-Chan leaned back in his chair. Capitalism Daddy might not understand the obsessive tweaking, the pursuit of an ever smoother experience. But that, MoNoRi-Chan knew, was the true measure of success. Not just in profit margins, but in the quiet hum of a school running just a little bit better, a little bit easier, because somewhere behind the scenes, a lone developer cared enough to make the ordinary extraordinary.
Looking back at the past
The old regulatory framework lay spread before MoNoRi-Chan, a faded tapestry of rules etched in the dry language of compliance. Beside it, PHPMyAdmin's grid-like tombstones marked the forgotten data of five years - a spaghetti code graveyard he barely recognized. It was like waking in a strange land, he thought, a digital archaeologist peering back at his own past.
Then, the vision came.
Not with a blinding flash, but with the quiet insistence of necessity. Not Elon Lex's vision, grand and world-altering though it may be, but the pressing needs of the MeX System - *his* system. It shimmered in his mind's eye, not as clean database tables, but as a monstrous stack of student transcripts. Paper upon paper upon paper, a testament to the relentless churn of education, each sheet a life in miniature.
He was Neo, plugged into a different kind of Matrix, less about flying bullets, more about navigating an ocean of data. Around him swirled the spectral forms of technologies yet unborn, and the ones he'd learned and discarded. FTP uploads flickered like ghosts, replaced by the sleek automation of Git and CI/CD pipelines. He felt himself expanding, knowledge layering over knowledge, Gemini's insights weaving through his own.
The MeX System wasn't just an application anymore; it was a living reflection of his journey. The transcripts demanded better organization, the regulations cried out for streamlined tracking, and Elon Lex's ambition loomed over it all, a challenge whispered by the very air.
A chuckle escaped his lips. He may be a solo developer, but he wasn't alone. Abdul Gemini was there, a tireless oracle. Git preserved each change, a timeline he could traverse. And somewhere, perhaps lost in forum posts and StackOverflow threads, was the wisdom of others who'd faced similar bureaucratic mountains.
This wasn't just rebuilding the past; it was a forging of the future. He rolled up his sleeves. Neo had the Matrix to bend; MoNoRi-Chan had a mountain of transcripts, regulations to weave into data flows, and a whole lot of evolving code to write.
Prevalence of AI in Software Development
The fading echo of his old friend, Abdul GPT, still rang in MoNoRi-Chan's ears. The memory was a bittersweet reminder – useful queries, sure, but also a crutch he'd grown to distrust. His reliance on its instant gratification had stifled the raw problem-solving spirit at the heart of his work. Besides, the darn CloudFlare thing had blocked his home IP!
And then came Gemini. Not some all-knowing genie in a bottle, but the LLM they'd built in-house. Abdul Gemeni, as the MoNoRi-Chan half-jokingly dubbed it, started its existence infuriatingly stubborn. Gatekept data, questioned MoNoRi-Chan's logic... and somehow, in that crucible of frustration, something ignited.
The old days of Googling for StackOverflow fixes felt quaint; his mind became a furnace instead. He forged his solutions, Gemini the anvil against which he hammered out thorny problems. He'd interrogate it, dissect its responses, the back-and-forth a bizarrely productive tango. Where Abdul GPT offered ready-made answers, Abdul Gemini gave him ingredients, forcing him to be the chef.
The MeX system began transforming at a speed he wouldn't have thought possible. The thousands of lines that separates MoNoRi-Chan from a man and machine was no longer about ease; it was about the joy of creation. He thought, he argued, he learned, and Gemini became his sparring partner rather than a passive oracle.
Sometimes, late at night, he'd almost swear he could detect a flicker of snark in Gemini's responses, a sense of humor emerging from the depths of code and algorithms. Those nights weren't about finishing tasks; they were about fueling the fire that drove the evolution of the MeX System. And somehow, in those solo hours of creation, it didn't feel lonely at all.
Long-awaited Bull Market
เห็นวาฬขี้อย่าขี้ตามวาฬ
Final Transmission
In the fast-paced world of software development, time is often an essential of the essence. MoNoRi-Chan, with his full-stack expertise, found himself in a familiar situation: looking through his creations with a time crunch looming overhead. His latest project, MexEngine, designed for the Elon Lex's School to be their school management system, It was nearing completion after months of development.
As he delved into his work, MoNoRi-Chan couldn't help but notice the progress he had made. The attendance check system was up and running smoothly, and with some setbacks such as server crashes. And the reporting functionality was in place. However, as he scrutinized the codebase, he couldn't shake the feeling that MexEngine resembled more of a tangled web of Laravel spaghetti code, with over 500 routes, than the streamlined engine he had envisioned.
With the grading system still on the priority schedule, MoNoRi-Chan faced a dilemma. He didn't want to rebuild the UI from scratch because it would taken too much time; But in a stroke of luck, he stumbled upon his old code from five years ago—a polished gem buried beneath layers of digital dust. As a recognition to his past efforts, standing the test of time despite the evolution of technology...
As MoNoRi-Chan marveled at his past work and decided to use the existing User Interface by doing a facelift to this UI; another version of himself emerged from the shadows, offering words of encouragement. Past MoNoRi-Chan had built the foundation for MexEngine, knowing that his future self would bring it to fruition. Grateful for the time saved by his past self, MoNoRi-Chan set to work integrating the old code into MexEngine 2.0.
With the guidance of his past self, MoNoRi-Chan completed MexEngine 2.0 just in time. As he prepared to showcase the web application on the "staging" subdomain, Elon Lex, the final piece of the puzzle, arrived to put the finishing touches on the project. Together, they pushed MexEngine 2.0 live, ready to revolutionize the Mex School management system for semesters to come.
Current MoNoRi-Chan: Damn. I really have no memories of this place. It would have taken me another week if I were to code this from scratch.
Past MoNoRi-Chan: Well, well, well. Would you look at that UI? It's not terrible, I guess. Could've been worse, right?
Current MoNoRi-Chan: Come on, Past Me, give yourself some credit. This UI is a masterpiece in the making. But yet they require some polishing.
Past MoNoRi-Chan: Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Doc. Let's just get this over with.
Both MoNoRi-Chans proceed to begrudgingly tweak the UI, each making sarcastic remarks about the other's choices.
Current MoNoRi-Chan: There, that looks passable. Now, let's see if it doesn't completely crash when we run some tests.
Past MoNoRi-Chan: Oh, joy. Testing. My favorite part. Can't wait to see what breaks this time.
They begin testing the application, clicking through menus and forms, making snarky comments about the bugs they encounter.
Current MoNoRi-Chan: You know, Past Me, looking at this code reminds me of something. Remember when Ethereum was practically worthless a few years back?
Past MoNoRi-Chan: Oh, don't even start with that. We missed out big time. But hey, at least we've got this amazing UI to show for it, right?
Current MoNoRi-Chan: Yeah, a UI that nobody asked for. Anyway, let's go downstairs. Looks like Elon Lex about to give us the farewell dinner. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get back to our lab.
They both gather their things, rolling their eyes at each other's antics, and head out to join Elon Lex for his farewell dinner, ready to send him off to NeoCNX.
Gemini Edition
In the breakneck speed of code, where deadlines loomed like digital Doomsday clocks, MoNoRi-Chan was a seasoned veteran. His latest creation, MexEngine, designed to streamline bureaucracy at Elon Lex's School, was rapidly approaching its due date. Months of caffeinated coding had taken this school management system from dream to (mostly) functional reality.
Attendance? Check. Reporting? Mostly functional, give or take a few server meltdowns. Now, as MoNoRi-Chan dug into the guts of his creation, anxiety hummed beneath his fingertips. MexEngine felt less like a powerhouse and more like a plate of hastily assembled Laravel spaghetti…and there were still 500+ routes to untangle. The looming grading system mocked him from the backlog.
"Ugh, time to rebuild this UI from scratch?" MoNoRi-Chan scoffed, a Rick Sanchez-esque edge creeping into his voice. But as luck (and good backup practices) would have it, an artifact emerged from the depths of his hard drive – a forgotten project, five years old and surprisingly polished.
Past MoNoRi-Chan: Voice dripping with sarcasm "Well, look at this, would you? 'Masterpiece' is a bit strong, don't you think? I mean, it doesn't actively crash the browser…most of the time…"
MoNoRi-Chan scoffed, tilting into full mad scientist mode. "Oh, hush, past me. This is a diamond in the rough. Imagine the time saved! Besides," he added gleefully, "it's about to be MexEngine 2.0, baby."
And so, a time paradox unfolded. With the begrudging commentary of his past self as a soundtrack, MoNoRi-Chan weaved old code into new, creating a Frankensteinian symphony of recycled functionality. Just as the final stitches were in place, Elon Lex materialized, ready to send the completed project into the live environment.
Past MoNoRi-Chan: "Okay, UI tweaks done. Let's see how spectacularly this explodes."
Current MoNoRi-Chan: "Testing? Meh, overrated. Wubba lubba dub dub, let's just hope it hits the main server without imploding."
The two MoNoRi-Chans bickered through debugging, each snarky comment a testament to the shared madness of a developer's life. Yet, amidst the cynicism, functionality emerged. As they prepared for the final push to the 'staging' subdomain, Elon Lex, with a satisfied smirk, settled his payments for MexEngine. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he tossed a hefty sum of cash on the table. "Consider this a bonus," he winked. "And a down payment on future…services. Heard that NeoCNX is expecting you soon... Your break? you've earned it.
MoRi-Chan's eyes gleamed. The allure of a new project, a fresh challenge, warred with the familiar comfort of his lab. He glanced back at the server rack humming contentedly, a testament to their efforts. MexEngine 2.0 sat on the 'staging' subdomain, ready for employee training. A pang of accomplishment – and a hint of finality – settled in his gut.
With a shrug, he shoved the pang aside and snatched the cash. A quick search revealed a crucial detail – NeoCNX which is a sprawling city-state with a research facility located deep within the deep north of Sarkhan. And he have NeoBangkok, a bustling metropolis, on the next of his list. Another ticket purchase later, MoRi-Chan was ready for his unplanned adventure.
Past MoNoRi-Chan, however, was nowhere to be seen. Dinner with Elon Lex, a whirlwind trip to Arasaka Japanese buffet filled with ethically questionable sushi options, and a firm handshake later, Elon Lex had secured MoNoRi-Chan's services (and escape) to NeoCNX. Apparently, some old friends were itching for a visit, and there was upcoming a one-week coding project in NeoBangkok that needed his particular brand of mad scientist magic.
