Are you afraid of the darkives? 

A question we hear a lot in our instruction sessions is, “who decides what gets added to the archives?” Usually, this question comes from undergraduates and first time researchers who are surprised at the complexity of our answer. Looking beyond the concrete processes of the profession, the deed of gift agreements and donor cultivation efforts, Archivists play a large role in memory production. We’re often charged with forging lines of communication between the past and present. We’re as much a part of the life cycle of information as we’re a part of the lives and deaths of individuals represented by the collections we preserve. Being and archivist requires a certain amount of reflection on morality that isn’t necessary in other information professions.  And we think that’s pretty metal.

Phil grumbled loudly.  Moving a leafy branch out of his face.  The leaves weren’t turning yet, and that was annoying.   The outer trees would have turned first.  He could have at least told if they were close to the outside.  It was only getting darker by the minute.  Getting closer to 2 am.  The agent smacked the phone again.  There wasn’t any more signal now than there was over an hour ago.  His battery was holding out, but not nearly enough to work as a flashlight.  If he could see an inch in front of his face, he’d bother to be marking the trees.  Limbs torn down, scratches deep in the bark, whatever he would do.

“Can you see anything?”  Of all the times to not have someone with him that could, he didn’t know, fly.  Or have any kind of useful powers.  Daisy could have jumped them out.  Elena could have scouted ahead and always found her way back to him to see where they should go.  

Nothing can ever be easy for them, can it?