"We can take it back if you don't like it. But you will not not like it, you will love it. I predict: YOUR mind, and THIS machine . . ."
"You bought a machine? At the grocery-store? How big is it?"
"It's sort of a grocery. It's an Apple."
"Richard, your thought is very sweet but are you sure I need-an apple-at this time?"
"By the time you pop out of the shower, wook, you are going to see a miracle, right here in our trailer.' I promise."
"We have so much to do, already, and there isn't enough space. ... Is it big?" But I said not another word, and at last she laughed and went for her shower.
I hefted boxes down the narrow hallway, moved the typewriter off the shelf-turned-desk, put books on the floor, then lifted the computer from its foam packing and set it where the typewriter had been. I put the toaster and the blender in the broom closet to make room for the printer on the kitchen counter. In minutes, two disk drives were connected, the video-screen glowed softly.
Word-processing program inserted into one drive, I turned the machine on. The disk whirred, made whisking breathing sounds for a minute, then went still. I typed a message, scrolled it out of sight, till only a small square of light remained on the screen, blinking.
She came out of the bathroom fresh and clean, her hair gathered under a towel-turban to dry.
"OK, Richie, I can't stand the suspense! Where is it?"
I unveiled the computer from under the dish-towel. "Ta-da!"
"Richard?" she said. "What is it?"
"Your very own . . . COMPUTER!"
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She looked at me, wordless.
"Sit you down right here," I urged, "and then press the key marked 'Control' and at the same time press the 'B.' That's called 'Control-B.'"
"Like this?" she said.
The light-square vanished, and in its place the screen filled with words:
GOOD AFTERNOON, LESLIE! I AM YOUR NEW COMPUTER. I AM DELIGHTED TO HAVE THIS OPPORTUNITY TO MEET YOU AND TO SERVE YOU. YOU ARE GOING TO LOVE ME I THINK. YOUR NEW,
APPLE.
WON'T YOU TRY WRITING SOMETHING IN THE SPACE THAT FOLLOWS?
"Isn't that sweet," she said.
She typed.a tentative line: NOW IS THE TIME FOR ALL GOOD PERSONS TO CAME TO THE
"I made a mistake."
"Move the cursor to the right of the mistake, then type Left-Arrow." She did, and the mistake disappeared.
"Does it have instructions?"
"It teaches you itself. Press the Escape key twice, then the M key a few times, and follow what the screen tells you. ..."
That was the last I spoke with Leslie for the next ten hours. She sat tranced in front of the machine, learning the
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system. Then she typed things-to-remember flies into it, building schedules, idea-lists; attacked correspondence.