KingTrex101

You open the door. The dim, yellowish lighting of the record room paints over you. Rows upon rows of boxes, letters, reports, pictures, and other unnamed things sit before you, all in a coat of dust. You walk into the room, seeing all the dates you’re to pay attention to over the next week. 1942, 1966, 1979, 2003, 2011, 2025, 2040, and so on. Protected casings hold the film reels. Analog tapes and their VCRs sit in unwanted corners and carts. Floppy disks stacked on top of on another. It’s obvious that this place is something most people would rather forget than remember. You have a busy schedule ahead of you, and unpassionately grab Box 1983 from the shelf. Such is the life of an Archivist. You move to the other room, the whole VCR and ancient TV set ready to go, and open the box. It’s mostly empty, save for a half-burned newspaper, a gold-colored locket, and a VHS tape. You grab the tape, the words “1983 New Year’s Party” written in faded black marker eyeing you in the face. And