TECHNOLOGY HAS UPENDED a lot of things in life—the way we live and communicate, for example—but it has also changed the way we think about legacy. The word legacy used to imply a certain distance—between an event and its importance, between an act and its meaning, between the living and the remembered. It almost always felt like an inheritance or something left behind with intention: a home, a fortune, an art collection, a body of work, exonerating evidence, incriminating letters, a box of old photographs tied with a string. You lived your life, and only later did someone else decide what it all amounted to, for better or for worse. That version of legacy feels vestigial now. Legacy is no longer a marble bust; it’s a running transcript. Legacies are…