In this society they had discovered how to record ones life experiences and memories onto computers in a digital format. People would pay to have their life preserved for a future when technology would allow these stored memories to be installed into a new biological vessel. The human races quest for immortality almost achieved. But looking around one can see that this society has met with a catastrophe. It is unnamed, perhaps plague or war, but whatever the cause it happened a long time ago. Just inside the shop are rows upon rows of stored lives on computers that have all ceased to function. Sand, rust and time have conspired to corrode the machines causing them to fail. There is, however, one working machine whose wheels still have continued to turn. Looking behind its dusty glass will reveal the name of the person whose life is recorded digitally onto this still functioning computer. That name is Imogen.
Not far from here lies a partially submerged chair that, with a little prodding, can be coaxed back to life and allow you to fly around the desolate landscape seeking the entrance to Imogen's memories, which begin at the red cube in the sky. There are other ways to reach the start such as a self building walkway as well as a spiral staircase rising above the nuclear silos. It is a difficult path and symbolizes an anthropologists quest to uncover and piece together a long dead civilization. An architectural dig not into soil and stone but rather hacking into code found inside some still functioning technological salvage. This is the prelude to Imogen's story and the next post will be the first steps into her recorded memories.