In 1998, my elementary school received new MacIntosh computers with transparent turquoise backs. My family didn’t own a computer yet. I remember learning how to insert a floppy disc and use a mouse to open it as a folder on the desktop. It wasn’t floppy, it was hard, and the mouse was not a mouse. Everyone had their own disc, but they weren’t discs, they were squares. The blue of the computer backs was the blue of processed sugar. The computers were not edible. S invited me over to her house to use her MacIntosh computer, perhaps sensing my desire for an Apple. When we got to her house, she brought me downstairs to the basement where we made a magical potion. We bled black crayola marker into water, then added toothpaste and black pepper to it and stirred. It was not clear why, if we had come for the computer in the upstairs office, we had ended up making a magical potion down in the basement. I expressed I was ready to see the computer. She then ran up the basement stairs, closed the door behind her, and locked it. I don’t know how long I sat on the top step of the basement stairs knocking, asking to be let out. I don’t remember if I cried. Her mother finally found me and opened the door. S was nowhere to be seen. Her mother explained to me that S didn’t always tell the truth. That unfortunately there was no Apple in the upstairs office, but that the potion we made in the basement was magical, and transformation possible.