"The ancient maps, the real maps, were the best ones. Not like those kinds of “Information stick” we could find nowadays.
Now you can communicate with a great range of objects. With the fake post-natural fat key of the steak purchased in the subway kiosk, you can tell to the person who produced it that your electronic dog preferred to remain fasting.
Yet, it’s very little. Little, in terms of Universal History, I mean.
I work - as you all know - underground in the City of the Elderly n.38, in the Desert. The desert is an unbearable place. The City of the Elderly is static and monotonous. Living underground is depressing, above all for you: administrative managerial and strong little robots who work in such a bright skyscraper.
And yet under that incandescent ground, lilting by unsteady steps, dusty documents attest stories of the city that are carried on the shoulders of the old men of the city.
An archivist has a soul. An archivist who works with the cards has a real one, not made of paper - as I have heard from someone - but is flammable. So do not giggle, or the fire increases, I get nervous!... and an elderly and frustrated archivist has all the world’s histories on his side."
Extract from the lesson of Doctor Spittgard “Archives in the course of TIME –NON-Yo-Yo-Fe”