# I didn’t own it. I couldn’t touch it. I could sort-of see it through layers of special glass at my college.
I could type out punch cards, which white jacketed (and masked?) techs collected.
My clumsy Fortran IV card deck would return to my mailbox marked “syntax error”.
The computer was a leased IBM 1130.
The punch card chaff (punched out pieces) made terrific confetti.
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