This was 1951. So we had to use war surplus parts and vacuum tubes that would fail without warning. In summer the room got so hot, tar would splatter on the machine. Months of work ruined in an instant. And the memory was incredibly fragile. Someone wearing a woolen sweater could wipe it clean. Passing cars and planes did that too. And this mouse crawled inside it once. Chewed on some wires and was burned to a crisp. We rescued the machine but never managed to get rid of the stench. It always smelled of charred meat, singed hair, and burned whiskers.
