As for why a top-tier engineer like Taku Itakura still used floppy disks to store information, several clients who had worked with him for years knew a thing or two about it.
"Habit, probably. Like those enthusiasts who go out of their way to use cassette tapes. This guy's been in the business for over twenty years." As they opened one of the files, Ryusuke Soma answered absentmindedly. He paused at that point before slowly continuing, "Old men like us can't help holding on to some habits from the past."
His gaze fell on the reader connected to Taku Itakura's computer, dimness in his eyes.
In the past, floppy disk drives had been standard on many computer towers. Now, they had gradually become something that needed to be installed separately.
As storage media and data capacities continued to rise, one day, they would inevitably be left in the dust of history, with young people staring at them in confusion and asking what they were.
Just like the dream he had set aside for twenty years, long since faded and warped.
Ryusuke Soma looked away and added to what he had just said, "These days, floppy disks can't really hold anything besides text. He probably kept using them because he was just that particular."
Calling Taku Itakura particular was already putting it kindly. The man was full of strange quirks and incredibly difficult to deal with.
"Then let's take a look. Maybe there'll be some clue..."
Juzo Megure agreed verbally, but honestly took a step back and handed all operations over to Wataru Takagi.
He did not find digital or electronic things particularly difficult to understand, but actually operating them was asking too much of him.
After confirming things once more with the forensic staff, Wataru Takagi finally opened this much-anticipated