The Time Capsule

The Time Capsule

It had been 50 years since I graduated from Stony Brook University. The time had come to visit my old alma mater. I’d returned to Stony Brook University many times since graduating, but this day was different. This was the 50th anniversary of the burying of the time capsule. 

My friends and I had decided that on graduating day, we would put together some of the remembrances of our 4 years there and bury them in closed boxes somewhere on campus that had meaning for us. We didn’t share where we were burying this box with anyone else. We never planned on meeting up; we just hoped that we would remember where we buried our own memories so that we could dig them up by ourselves. We were sure we wouldn’t be in contact with each other 50 years after graduating.

I chose to bury my capsule on the grounds of Benedict College, where I had spent most of my time in the dorm and having meals. Surprisingly enough, with all the new buildings and renovations that had occurred over the past 50 years at Stony Brook, Benedict College stood exactly the same way it had been back in 1972. It was easy to find the spot where I had buried my treasure. 

I waited until dark when I could not be seen digging a hole in the ground. I didn’t have to dig far. Two feet down, I hit a hard object. I dug around the object, pulled it to the surface, filled my hole, threw what I had found into my car, and drove home. 

The funny thing about time capsules is that they are supposed to contain objects and memorabilia from your past. After all, you were the one that put it there. And this sure looked like my box. But the locking mechanism was different. First of all, I don’t remember putting a lock on it. And it wasn’t a combination or key lock. It had a place on the front of the box where I could put my hand, but no other way I could see to open it. 

Being curious, I placed my hand on the spot where my hand fit, and it opened. I slowly lifted the lid. It looked like the box I had buried, but nothing I had put in it was there. I did recognize the handwriting on the letter that was in the box. It was my own handwriting. It read:

Hey Harvey,

Sorry for swapping out the junk we put into this box in 1972. But I thought you would prefer to see where you are going rather than where you’ve been. I mean, who cares about old records and pictures of your hockey team (they never won anything anyway, besides you quit the team after the cheating scandal)? As for your college ID, you are welcome to it.

Don’t worry about your health. You’ll have some issues in 2023, but within a few years, they will create some awesome organic/android hybrid parts that, trust me, you’ll live forever.

Instead, I put some of your real accomplishments from here in the 2050s.

Enjoy a copy of your first novel. I added an old-time DVD of your interview with the President and when you received the medal of honor to play on the equipment you have available in 2022.

You’ve got a lot to look forward to, Christina and David, too. I’ll let you learn about those things on your own. Enjoy.

I’ll be seeing you…or should I say, I’ll be being you. Either way, you might want to look out for some of my other future presents that I buried in different spots for you. You’ve still got a lot to learn.

Your self,

Me

May 25, 2050

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