Back in Mac. Apparently hard drives are like tires – you need to replace them every few years, but it doesn’t mean the car is dead. I’m staring into the big blue rectangular eye of the same laptop body that’s traveled with me for two years, but it’s got a brand-new hard drive, enviably empty of memory.
I asked the nice man at the Apple store if he could do the same thing for humans: destroy all the data and give me a new brain. He says it’s a few years off.