Growing up in the late 80s, there was nothing quite so magical as a computer. Even unicorns, which really existed for a while back then, were completely ignored and disappeared as our eyes were all glued to our shiny 386s IBM PCs with their 16 colors and dozens of megabytes of hard drive space.Computers weren’t (yet) like Hollywood or Netflix where you’d just sit and watch content.“Entertain me, machine!” I commanded as I plugged it in, yet it just replied humbly with “C:\>”. What does one reply to this cryptic, yet wonderful exhortation? I was supposed to type commands, direct it, program it. I was supposed to make things.