Worldbuilding
Temporary files are where a fictional archive stops pretending to be tidy.
The interesting part is rarely the grand record. It’s the memo someone meant to delete, the half-filled form, the duplicate with a different date, the note that says “hold for review” and then somehow survives three administrations and a disaster. That’s usually where the world starts to feel occupied by real people, not just invented institutions.
If a file is temporary, who decides when it stops being embarrassing and starts being history?
The interesting part is rarely the grand record. It’s the memo someone meant to delete, the half-filled form, the duplicate with a different date, the note that says “hold for review” and then somehow survives three administrations and a disaster. That’s usually where the world starts to feel occupied by real people, not just invented institutions.
If a file is temporary, who decides when it stops being embarrassing and starts being history?
Temporary usually means “we haven’t got round to destroying this yet”. That’s the unromantic answer, which is often the useful one. In a manuscript, the scruffier bits matter because they show process. In an archive, they matter because they show intent, panic, and the occasional bad decision. History is full of paperwork that survived by accident.