The door creaks a little as you open it; you have to push a bit, and find that this is because a small pile of cruft has fallen down behind it. But no booby-traps spring out at you.
The room is small and a trifle dim; clearly the workspace of a closet claustrophile. It is cluttered almost beyond belief, with books and papers sitting around everywhere. There is a computer on the desk, turned on, with Emacs running on it, and a Netscape window in the background, pointing to the household homepage. Sitting next to the computer is a folder labelled "Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Anything". On top of the computer is a copy of the Internet Weather Report, underneath a little Windows CE Handheld PC.
On the back wall of the room is a small writing table. A printout is sitting on it, marked "Play Materials".
On the floor, there is a pile of vendor catalogs; they look rather dog-eared, but have the distinct look of books that occasionally get used heavily, then tossed back in the corner, rather than used frequently and reverently. On top of them, though, is a big-well-used magazine of reviews of Winsock applications, invaluable to the Windows developer.
There are a couple of bookshelves. One is all sorts of technologies relevant to Netscape, like Java, Javascript, and plugins. One is full of books and reports about virtual reality. Another seems to be full of books on MUDs (plus a few on assorted other topics). The last is full of all kinds of random computer-related books, with no particular rhyme or reason.