"A '7' means nothing consistent across days or people. The words 'pretty sore' mean exactly what Dad felt."
The Slider Forge Refuses
Almost every symptom tracker opens with a scale: rate your pain 1 to 10. Forge never does, and the refusal is principled. A number captured in the moment is a lie dressed as data — a "7" is not comparable to yesterday's "7," let alone to anyone else's, and asking for it forces the person to quantify a feeling they have not finished feeling. Worse, it throws away the actual information. "A little stiff, eased up by noon" carries more than any digit could.
Words Stay; the Scale Is Derived
So Forge keeps the words. Dad's own phrasing — "좀 시큰하다," "pretty sore," "barely noticed it today" — is the citable truth, stored verbatim and never overwritten. Intensity still exists as a normalized value, but it is derived at interpretation time: Pippa reads the wording and maps it onto a consistent internal rubric (mild / moderate / severe / unspecified) so trends are comparable. The number is downstream of the words, and the words remain the evidence any analysis has to cite.
A Rubric Change Is Re-Interpretation, Not a Rewrite
Because the scale is derived, improving it is safe. When the normalization rubric evolves — say version 2 reads "시큰하다" more precisely than version 1 — Forge re-interprets the affected crumbs and stamps the new generation. It never edits the original words, and older readings stay in the record so a comparison knows which generation it read. History is re-read, never rewritten. That single property is what lets the typed layer keep getting smarter without corrupting the truth beneath it — the theme the whole next track is built on.