The book was old, beyond old, really. It had been passed down from parent to child for a millennia. It was, now, so thick and large it was carried in a careful satchel and, due to being so ancient, the oldest of the pages yellowing, only carefully opened with gloves. The newest pages, however, were much fresher and had been added to the book almost weekly over the past hundred years. But now, the owner, dying gracefully of old age, called to the Archivaas. They wished to donate this relic to their care. A diary that had been written in by the members of their family for too many generations to count. From time time the first humans went to colonize the stars. They figured, when they were gone, at least these words would live on with these renown librarians. -- Anon Guest
It was, as the Descriptii called it, a Generation book. It, like Wels, was dying. It had been written in by firstborn after firstborn, passed down to each first child for generations. It had within its pages life from the perspective of the Diarykeepers from the time of landing. It described the breaking of first camp, births, deaths, personal drama, and even weather.
Archivaas Leif almost drooled. Hir gloved fingers twitched just to peek. A single perspective archive of an entire colony... it was priceless. An heirloom, of course. Stupidly, ze said, "Are you sure?"
"I gave my children the choice... and they chose not to add. They're... free..." Wels smiled as they struggled for breath. "My ancestors and I devoted themselves to documenting everything. Everything. It's a miracle we got anything done at all. We had to reserve two hours a day for journaling. Like it was sacred." Wils struggled to smile. "I always found it a pain in the butt."
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