The Archive

For three hundred and fifty years, we have researched. The plant rooted here by the First Archivist, centuries ago, has grown and spread wide, fronds unfurling into a city unlike any other. Where else do stories, past and present, walk so closely hand in hand? Where else does tangible, forward-moving progress coexist so contentedly with the strength and depth of history? I invite you all to walk the streets, enjoy the parks, venture out into the world beyond – and to keep your eyes open as you do. There is always more to record.

I congratulate you all on a very happy anniversary. May the next decades bring only greater joys.

– Extract from a speech broadcast by Head Archivist Dr. Alethea Acevedo to mark the Archive's sesquarcentennial year, 01.01.350.

Nestled in a lush, green valley on the Petu (pronounced “PEH-too”) Peninsula, in the southern central part of the continent of Dyzia, the Archive is a powerful city-state of delicate bridges and spiralling walls. The city is centred around the Beginning, a central, glass-domed atrium, in front of which sits the Source, a fountain into which is projected a video reel of stories from world history, different every day. From here branch out the “arms” of the building: each one an enormous archive specific to a different polity, holding all the records the Archive possesses on that part of the world. These regions include Nemeus, Endring, Mayton Greynes, and the Archive itself, but these are far from the only ones. The oldest records are kept closest to the Beginning, with the most recent records stored at the far ends of each arm. Building work is continually ongoing, extending each arm as new records are made. It is not truly believed that the work will ever be finished: the task of the Archivists and VAAs is to compile records for as long as there are records to be compiled, preserving the world as it is and was for the world that is yet to come.

The Archive's inhabitants live above the records, in a system of apartments, shops, services and schools stacked several stories high and linked with shining metal bridges. The most affluent areas are in the centre, while poorer residences tend to be located in the outskirts.

Atop it all is a system of green roofs, parks, and allotments, trailing leafy tendrils down the walls and providing spaces for rest and relaxation. At intervals, staircases spiral to the ground, where the height of the buildings and narrowness of the cobbled alleys create a shadier alternative to walking along the bridges during the heat of summer days. It is largely a pedestrian city (although there is a small-scale railway within the stacks, for Archivists needing to move from one end to the other at speed), with no roads accessible to cars. As such, those wishing to enter and leave do so on foot or by air; a few helipads dotted around the city facilitate the latter.

The Archive enjoys hot summers and mild winters, with frequent rainfall. It is surrounded by an area of green, rolling moorland, stretching to the peninsular coast in the south, east and west, and as far as Mayton Greynes in the north.

Although the precise date of the Archive's foundation – on the first day of what would become the first month, 354 years ago – is known, the precise sequence of events is, ironically, lost to time, as is the identity of the First Archivist. Always intended as a hub of knowledge, the buildings have developed from the original plan without significant changes, although they have been periodically updated and modernised and – of course – continue to grow. Although the Archive was not the first civilisation to occupy the Petu Peninsula, records of its predecessor are sparse: it is believed that it was a predominantly oral culture, and as such left little by way of physical documentation. Researching this predecessor is considered an important objective by many of those focused on the investigation of Archival history.

Although a relatively young institution, the Archive uses the deep and detailed histories available to it – which, for many polities, reach back to well before its own foundation – to govern in a way that allows as many people as possible to live as comfortably as possible. While law codes have been written down, these are strongly based on precedent and custom; the Archive regularly reviews current practice around the city to ensure that its laws remain relevant. This loose government is led by the Head Archivist, while, unusually, a general legal department (ie. one that is not linked to the history of any specific polity) exists to facilitate the review and synthesis of custom and common practice. There is also a general bureaucratic department, responsible for the organisation of the Archive's systems and structures.

The Head Archivist, while ultimately responsible for everything, is not directly responsible for the vast majority of the Archive. Each polity has a lead researcher; working under these Heads of Region, meanwhile, are Heads of Period, focusing on a more manageable chunk of time in the history of the polity in which they specialise.

The full clearance system is as follows:

PCs will play as Volunteer Assistant Archivists, rather than being employed as Archivists; those from the Archive will either be employed in another capacity (as a bureaucrat, a lawyer, or in another reasonable position – say, a cleaner who also happens to enjoy research), or work elsewhere in the city. PCs from the Archive may choose to specialise in any region, including the Archive.

While the Archive is the predominant employer in the city, it is far from the only one. People work in shops, schools, hospitals, and all the other amenities that might be found in any given city, while members of the bureaucratic or juridical branches of the Archive may also work as VAAs. Education is considered highly valuable, and many people spend their free time using the resources all around them to research areas of interest; however, there are also recreational areas. Amongst these, the system of parks on the roof of the city stands out, but there are also sports facilities, cinemas, and a wide variety of other social hubs. Notable amongst these is the Mundmix café, located within the Beginning and welcoming everyone from bleary-eyed Archivists each morning, to readers, to members of the general public who just fancy a slice of cake.

Those who break the law, meanwhile, are likely to be cut off from access to these places and the wider society around them, rather than face prison time or any other punishments that we (OC) may view as traditional. The Archive's control of data is such that it can leave people effectively anonymous: a threat that has, historically, successfully prevented major misdemeanours.

The Archive has agents all over the world, searching for any and all documents considered worthy of preservation, whether produced yesterday or two thousand years ago. Nonetheless, its relations with other governments vary. It cooperates closely with Mayton Greynes and its university in order to facilitate students’ research, while – although senior management appears wary of Endring's religiosity – most ordinary Archivists are grateful for the steady stream of contributions the priesthood makes to the Archive. The Archive maintains close trade links with Nemeus, through a specially-constructed port on the eastern coast of the Petu Peninsula (Port Nemeus, in an area currently not under national government), while also sponsoring its archaeological work.