No. 8 — Archaeotechnologists
- Miriam Tocino
- Aug 11
- 3 min read
Updated: Sep 4
Machines have both skeleton and soul: the parts you can touch, and the spark that brings them to life.
We use machines all the time — light switches, toasters, computers — without thinking too much about what’s inside.
And that’s okay.
But sometimes, when we stop and take a closer look, the magic becomes something else: a story.
This story is about that.
About Zerus and Ona finding an old computer, and treating it like a relic — a creature that once had life.
They explore what’s inside. Its skeleton. Its circuits. And that tiny spark that once made it run.
Because the digital world isn’t made of mystery. It’s made of choices. Of parts. Of people.
And when we learn to see that, we don’t lose the wonder: we gain the power to build what’s next.
Archaeotechnologists
At the Atapuer-Bit Dig Site, Zerus and Ona were covered in white dust sparkling with digital bits.
Right in front of them lay the Miguelón-PET: a prehistoric computer from 1977, disassembled as if it had been stomped on by an electric diplodocus.
"A massive archaeo-technological relic!"
A motherboard here, a fan over there, and cables tangled like a plate of spaghetti. Long live history that smells like electricity!
As proper archaeo-technologists (which sounds super pro, though it’s mostly about digging up old things while looking very serious), Zerus and Ona were brushing off each piece with their little tools, gently revealing the past.
Zerus liked to show off his technique, which was very professional—except he sometimes forgot where he had already cleaned and ended up brushing Ona’s circuits instead.
Suddenly, he shouted:
“Onaaaa! I found a speaker in the ruins!”
“A legendary piece of hardware!” Ona almost fell over from excitement. “It had sound, Zerus! SOUND!”
“Hardware?” asked Zerus, looking completely pixel-lost.
“Hardware is the skeleton of the machine. The stuff you can touch. It’s solid — that’s why the English called it ‘hard’.”
“So… the Miguelón-PET must have had software too?!” Zerus exclaimed, activating his detective-poet face.
“Exactly. Software is the soft stuff — what makes it run, what brings it to life. Like a music app!”
Zerus brought the speaker close to his antennas, like grandparents do with an old radio.
“Do you think it still works, Ona?”
“Only one way to find out…”
And then Zerus heard it:
Piu‑paaa‑pa, pu‑pu‑péeee, pi‑pu‑pí…
His eyes lit up like LEDs.
“It works! It’s like a seashell that still remembers the sound of the waves!”
“Zerus, this is amazing! The first computer in the universe that could sing!”
“Straight to the museum!” they both cheered.
And just like that, the speaker became the star of Atapuer-Bit. They placed it in the central display case with lights and labels. Endless lines of bits came to see it, like the Rosetta Stone of digital sound.
The day before opening, Zerus was polishing off the last bit of dust, deep in thought:
“So machines need a hard part and a soft part…”
“Exactly, Zerus. Just like us — we’ve got a skeleton to hold us up, something that powers us inside… and a wild heart that sets it all on fire!”
Big Questions for Small Thinkers
What would happen if a computer had a body… but no brain?
If you could look inside your tablet or game console, what do you think you’d see?
Why do you think it’s important to understand how the things we use every day actually work?
