“We found a time capsule dated 1975, but the items inside were from 2025.”


    The words on the laptop, glaring back at Hugo, still seemed surreal. He never imagined that, when he received the call about an unearthed time capsule, the discovery that awaited them. This is how his written record of history began. While building the pavilion, workers unearthed a metal cylinder with a backhoe. The crew, unsure of what they’d found, contacted the police. A careful excavation followed, revealing a well-preserved metal cylinder despite being underground for decades. After a quick consultation with the mayor, Sheriff Brody contacted Professor Hugo Fischer from Bentonville College. Professor Fischer, a man whose unruly gray air was only matched by his enthusiasm for history, had seized the opportunity. He was Bentonville’s resident historian, a man known for his meticulous research and unwavering commitment to historical accuracy. This time capsule, however, would challenge everything he thought he knew.


    A small crowd, including townsfolk and local media, gathered in Bentonville’s town square to witness the opening of the time capsule. They placed the metal cylinder on a platform for easy access. Visible on the rusted metal was the inscription: "Bentonville Centennial Time Capsule—Buried 1975". As they prepared to open the contents, curiosity permeated the atmosphere.


    The crisp fall air, carrying the smell of fallen leaves and wood smoke, hung over Bentonville’s town square. A small crowd, a curious mix of townsfolk and local media, had gathered in the late afternoon sun, casting long shadows across Templeton Park, and the crowd gathering to open the time capsule was not large. A smattering of curious townsfolk, some clutching lawn chairs, others holding squirming children, mingling with the local news crew, their camera glinting in the fading light. They were all there to witness history, or at least, a glimpse. And here they were, gathered around the unearthed metal cylinder, the anticipation thick and tangible. The clear, bold inscription, ‘Bentonville Centennial Time Capsule—Buried 1975,’ stood out against the rusted metal. A forgotten era's promise, along with the smell of damp earth, hung heavily in the air.


The simple, rusted steel cylinder was unremarkable. As the town’s jovial mayor, Robert Miller, lifted the capsule from its resting place with a ceremonial shovel, a murmur rippled through the crowd. The crowd felt the tension in the square as Robert raised the capsule, placing it on a sturdy wooden stand; Hugo felt a strange mix of excitement and trepidation. He had reviewed the town’s archives but found nothing about the capsule or its burial. He couldn’t reconstruct the events surrounding the capsule’s burial—no newspaper stories, no records of a community or group that made and buried it. Now, a nagging sense of unease grew since he had made the discovery.


“Alright, team! Let’s see what secrets our predecessors have bequeathed us," Professor Fischer declared, wiping a smudge of dirt from his round glasses. “Please be careful. Maria, I want you to document every single stage of this opening. Chandler, get your camera ready. Full spectrum if possible. Monitor the overall context."


    Maria started setting up her tripod, arranging her brushes and archival paper. Meanwhile, Chandler was bouncing on the balls of his feet, messing with his camera. “Think we’ll find some bell-bottoms and lava lamps, Professor?” he asked, his voice full of youthful excitement.


Jay, always the voice of reason, stroked his chin. “More likely political pamphlets, energy crisis news clippings, and maybe some Bic lighter ads. Remember, 1975 was a turbulent year.”


    Professor Hugo nodded. “Who knows? This isn’t just about nostalgia; it’s about understanding. Now, let’s get this open.” He gestured toward Jay, who attached a power drill to the capsule. “Jay, if you would?” The cylinder was heavy, and the decades underground had cemented the lid in place. Jay drilled into the metal with practiced ease. The sound, amplified in the quiet park, drew a collective gasp from the crowd. The drill bit whined, metal screeched, and it felt as if the entire park held its breath for a moment. with a pop and hiss of escaping air, they finished the first hole.


    “Careful now, Jay,” Maria cautioned, her voice sharp with concern. “We don’t want to damage anything inside.” Jay worked around the circumference, creating a series of holes that Professor Fischer widened with a small pry bar. With a last heave and the groan of rusty hinges, the capsule yielded. The lid came loose, revealing the dark interior of the time capsule. Instead of smelling of must and decay, the air carried a faint, sweet scent—something floral and almost artificial. The crowd leaned forward, craning their necks to get a better look. A collective murmur rippled through the crowd as Professor Fischer reached inside the rusted metal cylinder, his hand disappearing into the echoing darkness. Tension hung in the air, thick with anticipation of relics from 1975. The town of Bentonville had gathered to witness the unearthing of their past—a snapshot of bell-bottom jeans, rotary phones, and perhaps a pet rock or two.


    Instead, resting on faded velvet were impossible items. First, Professor Fischer pulled out a sleek, slate-gray laptop. The screen was dark, but a charger sat beside it. A small, silver flash drive, its label illegible but still readable, said “Project AGAM” in black marker. Last, a thick, cream-colored envelope, sealed with what looked like a modern wax seal bearing an unknown crest, to “The Finders”. The contents surprised him. Hugo’s heart skipped a beat.


“This... this is impossible,” Maria gasped, adjusting her glasses. The librarian was Bentonville’s meticulous record keeper, and breaking her paradigm was mind-blowing. How could those items be in a time capsule from 1975?


Chandler scratched his head. “A laptop and flash drive? In ’75? That’s some serious science fiction.”


Jay was stunned by what was inside the cylinder. “Professor, how is this possible?”


    Buzzing with excitement. The crowd had now become a sea of puzzled faces. The crowd's disbelief filled the air. Andrew, a reporter from the county newspaper, pushed his way forward with a microphone in hand.” Is this entire thing a hoax, Professor Fischer?” The accusation lingered in the atmosphere. Doubts rippled through the crowd, questioning the authenticity and legitimacy of the time capsule.


    Sheriff Brody, a man of action, stepped forward. “Alright, folks, let’s not jump to conclusions. Professor Fischer, Maria, Chandler, and Jay, I will need you all to accompany me. We’re moving this entire operation to the civic center. We need to examine this more closely, in a controlled environment.” Within hours, they transformed the civic center’s community room into a makeshift research lab. They arranged the laptop, flash drive, and envelope on a sturdy table, bathed in the sterile glow of fluorescent lamps.


    Chandler charged the laptop. An eternity passed before the screen flickered on. Maria dove into researching wax seals, determined to identify the crest on the envelope. Meanwhile, Hugo plugged the flash drive into a borrowed laptop. The only file on the flash drive was “Project AGAM.” Inside was a single video file. Hugo clicked play. A grainy image filled the screen. A man with tired eyes and short, choppy hair stared out. His voice was raspy and urgent.


    “My name is Professor Alvin Cromwell. If you’re watching this, it means we failed. Or, rather, we haven’t failed yet—at least, not if you act now. We’re scientists, and we tried to build a time machine. We made it work, but we landed somewhere we weren’t supposed to be. The US transitioned into a dictatorship by the end of 2025. They stripped women, minorities, and anyone who wasn’t a white man of their rights and dignity. The US fell into chaos, becoming like a third-world country. We needed to act sooner to help with creating a resistance group. That’s when we used the time machine. We failed; we ended up in 1975. This video is for whoever finds this time capsule. Find her, Colbie Dunlap. She is the key. She knows what’s coming. Show her this flash drive. She knows what to do.”

The video ended, leaving them silent and stunned.


“This... this is...” Jay stammered, his instincts struggling to process what he’d just witnessed. “Unbelievable”


“It’s real,” Hugo said, his voice a whisper. “It must be. This laptop, this flash drive... the video. It all points to something real.”


Maria, having identified the crest, let out a gasp. “It’s a Dunlap family crest, an obscure lineage, but  a Dunlap crest nonetheless.”

 

    Hugo untied the sealed envelope. Inside, a single sheet of paper revealed a Bentonville address. Next to the address was a command written in bold letters: “SHOW HER THE FLASHDRIVE.” “We need to find her,” Hugo said, tracing the address with his finger. “Colbie Dunlap.”


    A collective breath escaped their lips. The weight of responsibility settled upon them. Chandler, always the pragmatist, broke the silence. “Alright, so we find this Colbie Dunlap. We show her the flash drive. Then what?”


"Then we will try to stop this," Hugo said, his eyes blazing with determination. "Future generations, the senders, and we ourselves deserve this."


    They packed the laptop, the flash drive, and the letter in silence, understanding what they had to do. The fate of the future might very well rest on their shoulders.