The Canary Code

PREFACE

I stepped out of the women’s inclusion conference reception into the hotel garden. Ahh, the quiet, the cool evening air. Except there was someone who seemed to be struggling to breathe. The person was vaguely familiar—we might have been in some sessions together. Anne? I thought her name might have been Anne.

I approached her, and she held up her EpiPen. I hung near just in case. When she finally caught her breath, Anne said she was sure she had mentioned her food allergies on the sign-up form. But evidently, the reception options had not been safe. Ah, yes, one of the main dishes filled the room with the smell of peanuts, but I did not pay attention. I don’t have allergies. Perhaps the organizers also did not have allergies. We humans ...