“What I first remember was the light.
It was November 1983, and after some Byzantine negotiations, I was admitted to the inner sanctum – a low-slung building in Cupertino, California, containing the most whispered-about secret since the Enigma, or at least Who shot J.R.? Upon confirming my identity, the receptionist directed me to a small conference room named after a French painter. A short, energetic woman in a suede jumpsuit entered carrying an awkward canvas bag. She set the bag on the table, unzipped the top and reached in, grabbing something by a recessed handle.
The shape is now a familiar component of our culture, as instantly recognizable as a Volkswagen or a Coke bottle. Back then, I had never seen anything like it. All I knew was its name: Macintosh. And that it was supposed to change the world. It certainly looked different.
In about thirty seconds, the woman had everything plugged in and connected. She reached behind it and turned it on. The disk drive ground and whirred. And the small screen turned milky white. In the middle was a sharp little machine self-portrait, with a blinking question mark inside on the screen inside the screen. Then the disk drive whirred once more and the question mark evaporated. In its place was a happy face. Macintosh was happy.
I was witnessing a revolution”.