When I was a boy, my cousin and I would go out into the woods to bury capsules predominately filled with garbage: a scraped-up G.I. Joe (obviously victim to a war casualty—later to be revealed as a possible conspiracy set forth by the government to make war appealing and exciting to young kids), a broken watch (my favorite one, another casualty), a mixed tape (The Smashing Pumpkins, Guns n Roses, Blind Melon, Nirvana). All hard to give up, but a small sacrifice to make for the "future".

Sealed, stashed, and buried in the woods under two feet of dirt and rock. We marked the location mentally and planned on digging it up 15 years later when we were married with two children (or maybe three, since twins ran in the family) where we would say "Wow, those were the days," and "They don't even make those anymore!" The more exciting thought was of someone else stumbling across it. Being 14 was fun, mostly due to the fact that we were so naive.

Enter the new family computer. Exit tree forts (replaced with a personal Web page). Back then, our selves (and ultimately the cultural times we were growing up in) were contained in those time capsules. Such containers have recently evolved to myriad digital recordings. Expect to see digital archaeology offered in technical institutes in the forthcoming years. History has just transcended the books. Or at least, that's my theory.

Observe thousands of personal Web pages from people in centralized areas. They record their thoughts, daily activities, recent purchases, and relationships. Parchment, scrolls, journals (all biodegradable) have now been replaced with something more permanent: digital bytes. MPEG formatting has not only spread music easily to citizens worldwide, but also made it possible for musical tracks to be stored efficiently, thanks to the large compression rate. Mark down one historical point for cultural music. Art is also captured digitally now, transcending prior mediums and becoming fully interactive—another point for cultural expression. These are the times of recording where both you and I play the historian.

Now older, but still a boy, I fall back to time capsule planting all over again. Granted, it lacks mixed tapes and limbless G.I. Joes, but most historical evidence wasn't necessarily created to be looked upon by futurists. Now that you've read this, your digital history might be tainted as well. But hey, there's no stopping it now.

Copyright © 2001 David Ball. All Rights Reserved.

David Ball is currently a graphic design student stashed away in a buried time capsule near the vicinity of Orlando, Florida. One day he'll hopefully be found.