The Word Outlives the Story
Most of the words a programmer uses all day have no traceable birth left. Nobody who says "grep" is thinking about ed's g/re/p command anymore; the syllables survived, the invoking gesture didn't. "Daemon" keeps its mythological spelling but nobody pauses on Maxwell's demon before writing a systemd unit file. "Cookie" for a stored token, "boilerplate" for repeated text, "kill -9" for a forceful stop: each one was, at some point, a decision made by a specific person solving a specific problem, and every one of those decisions has since evaporated into plain convention. You inherit the word the way you inherit a coin. It spends fine. Nobody expects you to know whose face was on it originally.
That's the ordinary fate of jargon. A word doesn't need its origin to keep working, it needs consistent use, which is a much cheaper thing to maintain. The story behind a term is optional cargo, and optional cargo gets thrown overboard first, usually without anyone noticing it went.
Which is what makes the rare exception worth catching while it's still around. Every so often you meet someone whose habit for some completely ordinary technical thing traces back to one identifiable place: a paragraph in a book they read at seventeen, a script they watched run once, a joke that stuck for no defensible reason and never got dropped. This is different from folk etymology, which reconstructs a plausible origin after the fact. Here the person was actually there. They can point at the exact moment the habit formed, and they've had no reason to stop doing it since.
That link is more fragile than the word itself. The pronunciation will outlive the story attached to it by decades, easily, the same way grep doesn't need anyone thinking about ed to keep meaning "search." What's perishable is the fact that right now, in one particular head, the word and its cause are still soldered together. The moment nobody bothers to say the story out loud again, the solder lets go, and the word joins the fossil record with everything else: same sound, same spelling, no more history attached than "cookie" has.
Catch one of those while it's still live and it's worth writing down for its own sake, not because the origin explains anything useful about the technology. It's a fact with a short shelf life. Either it gets copied into someone else's memory before the link gives out, or it doesn't, and the word itself won't notice which.