The room had come to the point where Jim had had to carve winding paths through piles of stuff, in order to be able to enter the room at all. In the far corner of the room was a fair-sized workbench, cluttered in much the same manner as the room itself, illuminated by a fluorescent light which hung from the unfinished ceiling. However, from the door, this workspace was completely invisible; the many huge piles of stuff blocked it from view. Jim loved working here. The sense of seclusion and quietude he felt when he messed with something was a wonderful way to relax.
So Jim started toward his workbench. He passed mounds of old computer equipment, rusty lawn mower parts, broken toaster ovens, random electrical wiring, and ancient light fixtures. He walked by several filing cabinets, three mouse traps, and a cabinet full of chemical mixtures. He picked his way among filthy papers, clocks that didn't work, and even a disused gene splicer.
When he reached his workbench, among microscopes, file printouts, and most of the volumes of a fifteen-year-old encyclopedia, he found the parts and pieces of a project he had been working on for quite a while now. Of course it wasn't constant work; he had a regular job, and he would work on other projects as well. It was just a hobby.
Jim sat down, examined several parts he had been working on, remembered what he was doing, and pulled a book from a shelf above the workbench. The book, he seemed to remember, contained some important information which related to his project. The book was entitled:
Thu Jun 24 19:46:51 1999
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