Time Capsule

An Old Talk with the Future

Dear reader in the future,

This might not look quite like what my ancestors left in the caves fifty thousand years ago, but I similarly have no idea what your lives are like. This is just a simple message sent to you by someone once lived long ago, writing this on his tablet computer after a simple lunch.

Do you remember the Arecibo’s message? It was sent to the globular cluster, M13 in 1974 CE. Having just read about both projects in books and Wikipedia and tried to comprehend it, I find wrting this letter equally challenging.

I’d believe that it’s also meant for my own future, showing the similar distance to me now. Sci-fi, statistics, anti-utopia …I’d preferably expect that things are fine there around you. It rained heavily today; streets were clear when I stepped back home from the school – in there, I finished the structural ideas of this letter.

Regardless of the possibility of time-travells, I still suspect that you may be able to recognise me. In some randomly taken pictures of some stranger, or in the social journals written by some of my peers, with nothing special I can barely see now, I’ve belonged to the human community on the planet of the present. I lived in stories, lost count of some details, and watched time slip by my side into the future.

Alas! I’ve been tired of trying to retype and rearrange the things I managed to tell you. In part because, I realise, things I experienced -which I wouldn’t mind sharing – might have gotten too old.

I don’t mind it orbiting the planet, KEO, flying low and close in deep sky, carrying this world’s letters to its elder copy, everyday, gradually, traveling over every inspiration and innovation, over every harvest, over every religion and economic policies, over every nation going through war and peace, over every disaster and prayer, over every idea of humble or powerful, over every devotion and perseveration, over every human who laughs and cries, over every cradle and gravestone, over spaceships setting out from the home atmosphere, in the subtle waves of gravity and reality, becoming unreachable to us.

Sometimes I’d rather it’s kept in my own era, safe and sound, shared with the peoples lived here and now.

Here, somewhere, among us.

We are different now, aren’t we? I want to discover, face and challenge the obscure. I manage to arrange the world’s people’s stories. I work hard to solve problems and build up new things. I want to watch every part of them stay forever here, in a better way, in a harmonious way.

There, somewhere, thank you. It is a limited period, so life always can feel ephemeral.

See? Detailed ideas are changing fast, catch them, make it better and become of an enhancement to everyone in the world.

I might choose to recycle my computer in a few years. The silicon and aluminium might as well just naturally decompose. Do you know the concretes collapsing and fading out of your ancestors’ sight, I believe that some of you might still find the connection?

Hundreds of centuries isn’t that long for the planet we live on, nor for the universe in our advancing and observing vision.

We are your past, the future reasonably takes its own leap to choose you as the way it eventually happens. Congratulations, to us both.

I stare at the Galaxy some times, feeling somewhere further in time and space waiting for me and you, calling both of us, calling every one of us to be the same long-lived – after continuous struggles and attempts to take small steps and a long, hard trek – as the universe herself ever was.

Edit on August 1st:

And do you know what I exactly would send to the future?

We should be home.

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