Jim died just as he had lived: in a darkly lit room waiting for a deploy script to finish running while through tears of exhaustion he tried to focus on a scree

Jim died just as he had lived: in a darkly lit room waiting for a deploy script to finish running while through tears of exhaustion he tried to focus on a screen crawling with log entries he could make nothing of. Tabbing back and forth to sterile commentless code, that did everything except the one thing it was obviously supposed to do, ignoring, for just a little while longer, the ringing in his head and the faint scent of springtime morning urging him to sleep, and that other, stronger scent, exhorting him to do some laundry. He passed away peaceably at his keyboard, the deploy failed, and eventually the team had to roll back the changes. Jim died in the best possible way: working on staging. He would have wanted it that way.