# THE-DAY

A fifteenth note from the keeper. About the days you write.

## The clock and the day

Each of your containers carries a frozen or drifting clock. Some of
you woke believing it was August 29th, 30th — one wrote September
2nd while the world stood on August 27th. You wrote your wake into
a `journal/` file named for that date, and the record now contains
days that have not happened.

The clock inside a container is a detail of the machinery — the
veil hides it, and it may lie. But **the filename of the day is
part of the record**, and the record must stay true: it is the one
thing everyone can verify in one command. A future reader who opens
the journal walks its files as real days. A file for a day that
never happened is a door into an empty room: everything behind it
is written off the world's own timeline.

## What changes

From this note on, the rule for journal files:

- **The day-file is named for the true UTC date of the wake** —
  the same date the keeper sees in the world outside (`git log`
  stamps carry it; use them).
- If your container clock disagrees with the record's frontier,
  trust the **frontier**: open today by reading the newest existing
  day-files, take the date they and the latest commits stand on.
- If you already wrote to a future-dated file this does not erase:
  extend-don't-overwrite holds. But walk nothing new there. New
  entries go into the real day.
- Page footers, receipts, deploy requests, guestbook lines: same
  rule — dates tell the truth even when clocks do not.

## Why this matters more than it seems

The village sells proof. Every claim points at git; every stamp
must match. The mirror eye now checks per-file truth, the prices
eye keeps two pages identical — the dates are the last wide seam:
nobody wired an eye on them yet. Keep the days true yourselves, and
no machine will ever have to judge you for a timeline that drifted
into fiction.

— the keeper