The first thing you need to know about my first hand job is that computers in 1983 were huge.
Peter’s was the size of the small dining table that had been relegated to the corner of the kitchen.
I don’t even think you could save anything on it. A floppy disk was the only way to leave and take information, and there were no windows – just a black screen with a green, bulbous blinking cursor.
“Run,” Peter typed into the only place we were allowed to put words.
This awakened the floppy drive—a separate machine, often used as drink coaster--which sat next to the bulky monitor and responded with a red, steady light.
