Historians piece together ancient civilizations using official records for the timeline and personal accounts for the details. Tax burdens, farming, culture—it’s all in everyday writings and letters. These firsthand accounts show us what life was really like.

The people writing this stuff probably didn’t think it was important, or even bother saving it. But it was on paper. Physical. It didn’t need some company or technology to survive. Empires came and went, but the paper stuck around. It could rot, sure, but even trivial bits had a shot at making it to us centuries later.

Today, everything’s centralized. Your messages, writings, photos—they’re on your phone, your computer, or some company’s server.

How long will your phone’s data last? Maybe your lifetime, if you are lucky. How much survives after switching devices? And a lifetime later, will those old devices even work?

Server data? You’re at the mercy of whoever runs it. Company goes bust, service shuts down? Your data’s probably gone. Businesses don’t have to keep it. The good ones might let you export it, but who actually does that? And stores it safely? Things change fast. This could all happen before you die. A lot of your digital life could just vanish.

Ironic, isn’t it? I made this point years ago, tried to find the post, and… poof. Gone. Had to rewrite it.

A century from now, official records—medical, ID, residency, education, taxes—might prove you existed. But your life story? Your passions? The ups and downs? Future historians might find a big, blank nothing.

Reconstructing our time could get tricky. The big, official stuff will be there, but firsthand accounts of daily life? Slim pickings.

Electronic media made information spread like wildfire, but also made it incredibly fragile. Here today, gone tomorrow.