that we spend so much time thinking about time: setting alarms, making dinner reservations, meeting deadlines, missing deadlines, scheduling due-dates, planning for investments and interest rates… A 30-year mortgage? Will I even be alive then? I mean, I wasted a solid ten minutes between writing the first and second sentences of this very article marvelling at what I imagine must go into the infrastructural maintenance for the Wikipedia entry for “time,” so who’s going to trust me with a mortgage? Sometimes it seems like the whole concept is one big existential prank we’ve conned ourselves into playing along with. Time, that is. Not mortgages. Hell, you know what, them too. It’s around this time that I’ll probably fix myself a drink. It’s five o’ clock somewhere, right?
In my day-to-day work, I’m usually either researching or sitting in archives; little pockets of well-ordered memory objects. The maintenance of an archive implies futurity. One is, after all, saving something for something. Archives are tricky beasts, however, as any archivist might tell you. Who decides what is or isn’t archivable? Who says what is going to have cultural importance or relevance in ten years? Fifty? A hundred? How many concessions can you make in an archive to account for the biases, politics, and instability of the present? There’s no such thing as future-proofing, y’all. I’ve built a PC from scratch. Each component seemed like a good idea at the time, one choice knitted to another with admirable cable-management. They will all come out again eventually.
Here are some games which imagine the past and predict the future.
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