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Kevin Kelly has written about the Rosetta Disk — a Long Now project that has microscopically etched text in over a thousand languages onto a nickel disk, encased in a glass sphere. The intent is that it will physically last as long as possible, and also increase the likelihood of readability well into the future. (The disk is analogue rather than digital, and the microscopic nature is implied by text decreasing in size on the opposite side.) Provided that at least one of the existing human languages is still known, the disk should enable future scholars to read the others, as it reproduces several standard texts translated into the variety of languages.

(It’s not explicitly stated, but what might be the probability of a civilization with no prior knowledge of any of the languages being able to decode it, to some extent at least?)

Saving one disk for all time is pretty unlikely. The goal is to produce a sufficient number of these, and have them stored in enough different locations that one or two can be expected to survive. Total cost (as quoted by Kelly) is $25 000. Seems like a lot, if you’re considering buying one for yourself.

But compared to the sort of money that large organizations deal with, it’s hardly anything. Get enough people together, and it would be easy to buy as a group. I’m sure that any number of university libraries, national libraries and archives, and similarly large institutions will be able to pick one or two up without blinking.

And if I can find 99 other people to put $250 in, then no problem!

One of the challenges I encountered last week with the Time Capsule project was the small “collection” of stamps and coins. A set had been placed into the first capsule in 1903, and then again in 1966.

Which of course leaves me cursing the “archival” habits of the 1960s. The stamps were placed flat onto construction paper, contained in a plastic page protector. (Not great, but not as bad as it could have been.) The 1903 coins had been glued to a piece of paper (in 1966 I assume.) The 1966 coins were stuck on with double-sided tape. Lovely. The glue separated away pretty easily without damage or much residue, but the tape was still nastily sticky. I’m assured that this pretty much decimated the value to collectors.

(Not that it’s strictly ethical for me to be thinking in those terms, is it?)

The other thing that made this challenging was my total lack of knowledge of anything relating to stamps or coins. I wasn’t able to find much coverage in my usual sources for preservation and conservation information. Stamps, not mentioned at all; coins listed along with medals in one bulletin.

I’m certain that this is due to the monetization of stamp collecting and coin collecting — as these are two popular hobbies, the artefacts become the province of amateurs and collectors, and are not considered to be of nearly as much interest to archives or museums. (With exceptions of course, stamp museums and currency museums do exist. But I wasn’t able to find much information from them on what I should do.)

Sites directed towards collectors treat the issue very simply: don’t use bare fingers, use protective enclosures that one can buy at your local hobby shop. Not much technical there.

Having hit a dead end doing things the usual way, I followed the advice and headed off to the local hobby shop — and success! Not only did I get lots of very detailed information about history (and aforementioned values) of these very display-friendly objects, but I was also freely given the supplies needed to take care of them a little more properly this time.

I’d been expecting that the special status of these things as collector items, as objects with known monetary value, would make it more difficult for me to deal with them properly. Instead, in a situation where I was the amateur, I found it possible to take advantage of some wonderful expert advice.

Sending stuff into space is cool, no argument. Selecting bits and pieces of human culture to share with the rest of the universe is also cool.

It would be nice if it were done in a way that was actually functional.

The Planetary Society has sent a DVD along with the spacecraft Phoenix, landing on the surface of Mars today. This disc contains text, artwork, audio, and video recordings, carefully curated, reflecting human perspectives of Mars.

“After landing, the spacecraft’s scientific instruments will come alive, and begin their search for water ice in the harsh Martian environment. Nestled among busy instruments, a small and very special DVD will wait patiently for its turn. This unique DVD is made of silica glass, and designed to last hundreds if not thousands of years into the future, when its true mission will commence. It carries nothing less than a message from our world to one centuries away, when humans will roam the Red Planet.”

What’s wrong with this picture?

I know I’m not the first to mention this, but even considering that the physical DVD may last for a very, very long time, the chances that anyone (human, posthuman, or whatnot) will be able to read the information are very slight.

In my ten minutes or so of research, I wasn’t able to find out any information about file formats or anything more technical than “it’s a special DVD.” Perhaps I’m reading the situation wrong.

At the very least, the disc itself will be an interesting artefact — a memorial to our very high hopes for posterity.