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Debra Mae was an astonishingly good programmer.   Her code always worked correctly the first time, and she never missed a deadline.  Her workspace was immaculate, but curiously devoid of personal effects.  No framed pictures, no toys, just her small collection of pens lined up according to color and an inbox for the occasional old-school paper input. Her computer was equally immaculate.  Nothing extra on her desktop, no stray icons.  If one peeked at her browser history there’d be nothing there but work-related google searches and company stuff. She dressed neatly but very plainly.  I suspected she had four dresses in her wardrobe an