Noki capsule

The Noki capsule is the name given to a 4,326 year old time capsule, which was discovered in the Hadheri suburb of Chekearoa in 2012.

Noki

All of the information known about the author of the Noki capsule, the eponymous Noki, comes from the content of the Noki capsule itself and remnants of the records of the Azimogian. According to the records of the Azimogian, the author, hitherto referred to as Noki, was born on the 13th of Okotzemer, in the year 2302 BCE, or in the [placeholder] calender on [date]. Noki lived in ancient Chekearoa, though the precise location of his residence is unknown. Noki died at the age of approximately sixty years old. Their cause of death was not recorded at his death, unlike most who died at that time.

Noki was a blacksmith.

Contents

The following is a complete transcription of the Noki capsule, translated from Ancient Azkali:

In the case you, at any point time following the creation of this letter - likely after my death - then I thank you for somehow, likely hundreds of feet down in the bowels of the earth, finding it.

My name is Noki, son of Noki, grandson of Noki, and so on. I am nineteen years of age. I am a blacksmith, I primarily forge sickles, scythes, and daggers. I reside in a dwelling with my mother, father, and two brothers and one sister, who I love very dearly. I work, alongside my brothers, sister, and parents, in our dwelling, in a seperate space open onto the street. I reside in Chekearoa, a city of some four thousand people, along the Chekearozkot River. I will likely be forgotten by society as a large the instant I cease to breathe, and so I will leave this letter, this infinitesimally small footprint of my life, for people in the future - a more rational future - to find. Despite my constant praying to the gods, I find that they are of little use at this period of time. Our father's father, Noki, has died recently, and has caused my family and who knew that man great suffering. I pray several times a day, to Mari and Ari, and yet they are of little help. I ask for solace and some sort of relief to my suffering and yet it never comes. I try to remain steadfast in my faith, so that some day it might come, the true infinite jest, but it has been four months since he died. And yet it has not come. I find little progress in grief. I have a friend, his name is Mazkei, who I love as a regular man would love a woman, he is eighteen years of age.

I include in this capsule several pieces of my life. I include, or had included, perhaps it will have been destroyed by the time you are reading this, several fables and poems that I have heard and transcribed, and some of my own making during the night and the time inbetween my first and second sleeps, when I am unable to fall asleep. Enclosed also is a dagger I have made. On the backside of the final page of this letter I have included my handprint, an outline of it. It may turn out that the items I have included here underwhelmes you, but here I will explain my thoughts and reasoning here. All actions in ones life stain the world around them. In the same way all actions have reactions, they have effects and consequences on the world around it. A mark of ones self. And here is why I did this. I have included several things important to my life, as a painting of my being at the time I wrote this note, at this specific point in time, as if to say, here I was, here I am, here I will be. Though I am mortal and will die, likely in a horrific manner, as judged by many other men I know, I may live forever. I have wrote this and left it in the earth to dwell for many years, likely past the point when I will perish, but when you see this, I will continue to live, live on, I believe, in the memory of you. Insignificant this will likely be, but I will still be alive, for life is something I cherish greatly and have been finding less and less of in nature, in the common person, and myself in these times.

I love you.