Worldbuilding Prompt #910 - The Archive of Abbados IVB

This post was inspired by a writing prompt in the Worldbuilding community - Worldbuilding Prompt #910 - Record Storage

At least two of the characters are people who have popped up in previous stories I've told. Enjoy !

Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio

Imperial Infomancer Dranton swept along the brightly lit corridor like an irresistible iceberg. Steady, sedate, neither tardy nor in an unseemly rush. Junior staff moved aside for him. He was important. He knew it, and everyone else knew it.

Here, in the behind-the-scenes section of the Imperial Halls of Information, where he didn't need to wear the cumbersome robes that were necessary to maintain a public image, just clad in his customary charcoal grey suit, it was obvious that he was in charge.

A small gaggle of junior infomancers, recordists and databods trailed after him, ready to do his bidding if called upon.

Finally he stopped in front of a door. It was a plain slab of plasteel, identical to hundreds of others in this mile-long corridor. On the wall to it's right was a small golden plaque. It read;

Archaeoarchivology Research Department

Dranton didn't knock; the door recognised him and slid open automatically.

It opened onto a fairly large room, mostly filled with protective crates. The lids of some had been removed and were stacked in a corner, although the contents were hidden by liquid foam which had provided safety on their long journey.

At the far end of the chamber was a long workbench, covered in data terminals and assorted equipment. The centre was occupied by a chipped and battered device which was clearly of ancient and alien origin. It looked totally out of place in this clinically clean place.

Hunched over the machine were two technicians.

"Well ? Have you got it working, Archaeotech Fraddle ?"

One of the two looked up. He was shorter than his colleague, and a little plumper. Purple hair and the mauve tint to his skin gave away his species; he was originally from the world of Giva.

He nodded nervously. "Yes, sir. We had to take it apart and put it back together again. It was strange to work on a purely mechanical single-dimensional machine, but we worked out it was powered by electrons that turned drive bands of some organic mate..."

Fraddle stopped as Dranton held up an imperious hand. He thought perhaps he should have just stopped after saying yes.

At the back of the room, one of the junior infomancers could be heard murmuring to his neighbour "Strange lot these archaeotechs. I think they spend too much time on their own."

Dranton didn't need to say anything. He just waved his hand in the universal gesture that indicated from a senior scientist to a junior one that it was time to proceed.

Picking up a grey disk that was in a rack on the desk, Fraddle carefully wiped it with an inert cloth and inserted it into a slot in the front of the device.

He explained, this time keeping it brief. "These are the data disks that match the machine. They were sent back to us by Infomancer Baran, from the archive he discovered on Abbados IVB."

The machined whirred quietly and a screen on the wall behind it lit up.

Everyone in the room stared at it intently, waiting for the screen to fill with whatever images and data the disk contained. Hopefully it would reveal much about the little known race who had lived on Abbados IVB. It would be a shame if it was just a set of holiday images made by a member of that enigmatic civilisation.

Five minutes later, nothing had happened. The screen stayed lit, and there was a hint of something on it, but it was nothing more than a slight grey static on a fractionally lighter grey background.

"Is it faulty ? Try another," Dranton demanded, a hint of impatience and frustration in his voice.

So Fraddle pressed a button to eject the disk and put another in. The same thing happened. And with a third and fourth.

By now, Fraddle was looking frazzled. Dranton's annoyance was obvious, as were the consequences to the Givan's career in the Imperial Halls of Knowledge.

Composing himself with a visible effort, Dranton asked, "So we know this archive is at least five thousand years old. Have you established the format used by these disks to store the data ?"

Shaking his head, Fraddle admitted they hadn't. "We assumed it was through some kind of molecular imprint only readable by this machine."

"And what kind of receptor or detector does the machine use ?"

"Electromagnets, sir.... oh."

It was suddenly clear to everyone in the room. The disks stored their data magnetically, not through molecular imprinting. Over a span of five thousand years, that magnetism would have faded away to virtually nothing.

They'd have been unreadable after a century, let alone fifty centuries. Thousands of disks, and all the knowledge on them was lost forever.