It was very, very early on Monday morning, but James could not sleep. He reached out to the night table, snapped on the light, and picked up his notes on the Stanton story. The interview had gone extremely well yesterday. Now he just had to come up with a great angle for a story. He wanted so badly to write a good story -- just so he could cram it down MacIntyre's throat.
MacIntyre was the newly appointed Director of Public Relations, and he rubbed James the wrong way. Aside from MacIntyre's totally disorganized method of doing things, which James could not abide, was MacIntyre's abominable habit of calling him "Jim" despite the fact that he had specifically asked him not do it on numerous occasions.
The clock read 4:30 am, and since he had no hope of sleeping and could not concentrate on the story, James decided to lose himself in his hobby for a couple of hours before he must shower and dress for the office. He rose from his bed and made his way to the bathroom. He completed his toilette and meticulously cleaned up after himself.
As he passed through the immaculate living room, he reached out to straighten one of the books lying on the end table and looked around to make sure every ornament was in its properly aligned place. Satisfied, he proceeded to his studio. He sat down gingerly on the old easychair and donned his coveralls. Scowling at the old chair, he vowed to himself for the hundredth time: "I am going to get rid of this old eyesore if its the last thing I do."
James slipped a multi-faceted crystal into the holographic computer and retrieved a seascape file he had been working on. The computer hummed as it searched for the file he had selected. Pure white light streaming through the crystal split and rearranged itself into thousands of tiny dancing pixels. As he thrust his left hand into the isomorphic linking unit, each twinkling pinpoint of light moulded itself to conform to the image in his mind.