A gust through the study window has scattered the pages of pixel Leonardo's newest notebook across his desk, every sketch face down. Each drawing was made twice, once to keep and once to send to a friend, so every page has a twin. Before the candle burns out, the pages must be paired and bound again into the Mirror Codex.
There is one small problem: pixel Leonardo writes backwards, from right to left, so every note reads like a reflection. Lose your place too often and the whole desk seems to turn around in the mirror, left becoming right. Gears, wings, eyes and snails wait in neat rows, and each bound bundle brings a thicker one. When the candle goes out, the night's work is done. How much of the notebook can be saved?
