No Stars

Bill Joy used to look at the stars before writing code.

He built BSD, vi, csh. A legendary programmer. He spent far more time thinking than typing. He assembled the structure of a problem in his head. Only when the solution appeared did he touch the keyboard. He thought while stargazing. He thought while walking. He thought until thinking was done. The writing was short.

I loved that kind of time. Sitting with a problem for days. Drawing diagrams on a whiteboard, erasing them, walking, bathing, sleeping, waking, thinking again. Then the moment the structure finally reveals itself, writing it all at once. I knew that rush.

Lately I type a rough spec and throw it at an AI. A plan comes back. I scan it. Looks fine. I let it implement. In the time it takes a star to blink, the design is done.

I want that time back. The silence of assembling structure in my own head. I want to feel it again. This is probably hubris.

But laziness whispers "let the AI handle it," and impatience snaps "stop overthinking, just ship." Laziness, impatience, hubris — the three virtues of a programmer. Yet hubris is the only one losing. I can't wait anymore. My hands move before I've thought it through. I can still review. I can still judge. But that silent time of finding structure from nothing — I don't think it's coming back.

When I lose this hubris, am I still a programmer?