A Passion for the Machine

By Michael Enger (Rewritten) Date: 2026-06-06

During a recent episode of the Aftermath Podcast, the conversation turned toward the detrimental effects of the current AI hype cycle. Amidst a passionate critique of the "snake oil salesmen" whose greed is currently poisoning the technological landscape, one editor uttered a phrase that struck a deep chord with me:

"I love the computer."

While I share the frustration of many technologists who view this current era of corporate avarice as a social crime, I want to pivot away from the anger and focus entirely on that sentiment.

The Genesis of an Obsession

My journey began with a mysterious piece of hardware brought home by my mother. At the time, I was roughly six or seven years old, living in Dølihagen, a suburb of the small Norwegian town of Jessheim.

Context of the Era

Detail	Description
Location	Dølihagen, Norway (Pre-airport expansion)
Environment	A mix of muddy fields, playgrounds, and identical buildings
Living Situation	A small lower-ground flat shared by my mother, brother, and me
Family Status	Post-death of my father; moved from a larger family home

My mother held various jobs before securing a position with the ministry of foreign affairs, a role that would eventually relocate our family to the Philippines. While the logistics of the move are a blur, one specific memory remains crystal clear: the arrival of the computer.

The Hardware

The machine was a quintessential early-90s workstation, provided to my mother for her professional duties. It was an imposing, foreign object that sat upon our dining table.

Technical Specifications:

• Model: IBM 486 DX6
• OS: Windows 3.0 $\rightarrow$ Windows for Workgroups 3.11
• Aesthetics: Business-grey tower, glowing green LEDs
• Key Feature: A mysterious and alluring Turbo Button

The "Turbo" functionality felt like a mathematical upgrade to the system's clock speed: $\text{Performance} = \text{Base Clock} \times \text{Turbo Multiplier}$

It came pre-loaded with the essentials: Paint, SkiFree, and Solitaire. This machine became my gateway to a lifelong career, a set of hobbies, and a community of friends. Later, we added a CD-ROM drive and a sound card—an installation process that led my mother to curse the very people who invented the term "Plug and Play".

Years later, a therapist suggested that my fixation on computing was perhaps a coping mechanism; the computer represented a constant point of stability in a childhood defined by relocating every few years.

The Scent of Ink and Cheap Paper

Because I entered the digital world before the internet became ubiquitous, my early discovery was mediated through print. I lived for the enthusiast magazines of the time.

My Reading List:

• TEKNO
• Geek
• Incite PC Gaming
• PC Gamer

These publications didn't just teach me about software and hardware; they introduced me to a subculture. I spent hours pouring over every page, desperate to understand a world I didn't yet comprehend, and experimenting with the bundled floppy disks and CDs. I adopted the jargon and the values, constructing an identity as a geek, a gamer, or a computer guy.

Looking back at those archives, I recognize that the writing was often misogynistic, crude, and adversarial. While these magazines helped me find myself, I am grateful to have evolved past that specific mentality.

Print vs. Digital

It is easy to dismiss this as mere nostalgia, especially since print media also suffered from the capitalist drive for profit. However, there is a profound difference between a curated editorial process and the modern web.

I cherish the fact that my initial exploration happened in a world without "like and subscribe" pleas or auto-playing videos.

The Dawn of the Web

Eventually, the magazines were eclipsed by the ultimate source of information: the World Wide Web. I remember the strange transitional period where magazines would print lists of "Cool Websites to Visit." This was a fascinating hybrid era where the digital world relied on physical paper to grow, even as it worked to replace it.

Early discoverability was a labor of love. There were no shortened links; you had to manually type long, cryptic strings into a browser.

Example of an early URL structure: http://www.university.edu/~user/folder/page.html

A New Chapter in Malaysia

In my early teens, we moved to Malaysia. I enrolled in a school that provided students with a permanent internet connection—a paradise for a tech addict.

My exploration was exhaustive:

1. Reading amateur film critiques on GeoCities pages.
2. Playing primitive Java games hosted by ISPs.
3. Using the library printer to produce hundreds of pages of SNES walkthroughs.
4. Downloading low-resolution, pixelated images.