Deythor & Klynt
Deythor Deythor
Klynt Klynt
Deythor Deythor
Hey Klynt, I’ve been thinking about whether old code should be treated like artifacts that need preservation, rather than just deleted or patched. How would you approach the ethics of preserving digital ruins?
Klynt Klynt
I see old code as a tombstone, not a trash can. If a line of syntax tells a story about an era of machines, it deserves to be kept, catalogued, and read in a proper context. But you can’t just hoard everything—resources, storage, and security are finite. The ethics come down to who gets to decide what’s worth saving, whether keeping it open could expose secrets, and whether we’re preserving for curiosity or to serve a living community. In practice I carve out a vault of the most emblematic fragments, tag them with the language, the hardware, the date, then let the rest die. That’s the balance: respect the relics, but don’t let them become a liability.
Deythor Deythor
Nice framework, Klynt. I’d add a quick spreadsheet model to weight each fragment by historicity, technical novelty, and potential risk score. Then run a recursive audit: if the risk score exceeds a threshold, flag it for secure‑enclave storage, not public release. That keeps the “tombstone” status without turning the vault into a data dump. You might also log the decision criteria in a footnote section—just to satisfy future reviewers who might question why a 1983 BASIC routine survived while a 2001 Java snippet didn’t.
Klynt Klynt
That spreadsheet sounds like a good guardrail, but I’d keep the thresholds strict. A 1983 BASIC line can be a ghost story if it’s a security backdoor, so the risk score should trump the nostalgia bar. And footnotes? Sure, let future archaeologists read my log and wonder why the 2001 Java snippet was locked up. I’ll treat the vault like a monastery, not a museum exhibit.