The Archiver of Obsolete Silicon

When Sarah, the seasoned IT Manager, told Kevin, the eager new recruit, to 'archive the old server' after a major data migration, she meant digitally back it up, wipe it, and send it off for recycling. What she *didn't* account for was Kevin’s exceptionally literal interpretation of 'archive.' Two days later, a strange smell — part ozone, part furniture polish — led her to the rarely-visited server room. There, bathed in the faint glow of a single utility lamp, was Kevin. He wasn't at a console. He was meticulously buffing the decommissioned server's casing with a microfiber cloth, humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like a museum tour guide’s preamble. 'Ah, Sarah!' he chirped, beaming. 'Just ensuring the historical integrity of this magnificent artifact! I’ve cataloged every port, labeled each obsolete cable with its estimated year of manufacture, and I’m just about to seal the primary hard drive in this resin block for posterity. Imagine the future generations of IT archaeologists!' Sarah stared, speechless, at the server rack now adorned with tiny, hand-written tags and a surprisingly shiny exterior. The resin block, intended for a small insect specimen, held what appeared to be a 2TB HDD. 'Kevin,' she managed, 'we were just going to wipe it and send it to the scrapyard.' Kevin’s face fell, then immediately brightened. 'Oh! Well, at least it’ll be the cleanest, most historically documented scrap metal they’ve ever received!'