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Summary
Max had been laboring away for what felt like a month at this point, hoping that, by some miracle, he would be able to get the husk of a time machine to work again. Max was in what was formerly Sam and his apartment. Though he was never the organized type, his apartment was trashed, even by his standards. Max had even begun to neglect himself, in a vain attempt to put all of his focus into fixing the broken machine in the center of the living room-kitchen combo of the small apartment.
