Yesterday and today I managed to spend some time with linenoise (http://github.com/antirez/linenoise), a minimal line-editing library designed to be a simple and small replacement for readline. I was trying to merge a few pull requests, to fix issues, and doing some refactoring at the same time. It was some kind of nirvana I was feeling: a complete control of small, self-contained, and useful code. There is something special in simple code. Here I’m not referring to simplicity to fight complexity or over engineering, but to simplicity per se, auto referential, without goals if not beauty, understandability and elegance. After all the programming world has always been fascinated with small programs. For decades programmers challenged in 1k or 4k contexts, from the 6502 assembler to today’s javascript contests. Even the obfuscated C contest, after all, has a big component in the minimalism. Why is it so great to hack a small piece of code? Yes is small and simple, those are two good points. It can be totally understood, dominated. You can use smartness since little code is the only place of the world where coding smartness will pay off, since in large projects obviousness is far better in the long run. However I believe there is more than that, and is that small programs can be perfect. As perfect as a sonnet composed of a few words. The limits in size and in scope, constitute an intellectual stratagem to avoid the “it may be better" trap, when this better is not actually measurable and evident. Under these strict limits, what the program does is far more interesting than what it does not. Actually the constraints are the more fertile ground for creativity of the solutions, otherwise likely useless: at scale there is always a more correct, understood, canonical way to do everything. There is an interview of Bill Gates in the first years of the Microsoft experience where he describes this feeling when writing the famous Microsoft BASIC interpreter. The limits were the same we self impose today to ourselves for fun, in the contests, or just for the sake of it. There was a generation of programmers that was able to experience perfection in their creations, where it was obvious to measure and understand if a change actually lead to an improvement of the program or not, in a territory where space and time were so scarse. There was no room for wastes and not needed complexity. Today’s software is in some way the triumph of the other reality of software: layers of complexities that gave use incredible devices or infrastructure technologies that in the hands of non experts leverage a number of possibilities. However maybe there is still something to preserve from the ancient times where software could be perfect, the feeling that what you are creating has a structure and is not just a pile of code that works. If you zoom out enough, you’ll see your large program is actually quite small again, and at least at this scale, it should resemble perfection, or at least, aim at it.