In 1964 my parents took me to a restaurant in New York called an Automat (see <a href="http:&#x2F;&#x2F;cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com&#x2F;2012&#x2F;06&#x2F;17&#x2F;revisiting-the-era-of-automatic-dining&#x2F;" rel="nofollow">http:&#x2F;&#x2F;cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com&#x2F;2012&#x2F;06&#x2F;17&#x2F;revisiting-the-...</a>). It had a wall with little windowed doors that would open for a few coins. Inside were dishes of food that one could take to your own table.<p>Off topic aside: we were in New York to go to the 1964 World&#x27;s Fair. All I remember of that was the IBM pavilion. There I wrote handwritten digits on a card (in little boxes) that a machine read and printed out. Even then I was fascinated with computers.