Save icon: why does an extinct object remain on your screen?
It stopped representing an object and became a learned symbol, like a letter of the alphabet. The same thing happened with the telephone, the hourglass, and the email envelope.
The save icon remains a floppy disk because it's no longer just a drawing of a floppy disk. It's become a learned symbol, like the plus sign or the traffic arrow. Anyone born after 2005 learned its meaning without ever having seen the object—and that doesn't hinder anything.
Changing the design would be more costly than keeping it. A new icon would require retraining billions of users who already recognize that square with a rectangle inside. Software companies prefer to keep the symbol and change what's behind it.
From a copy of reality to an abstract sign.
The floppy disk in the toolbar is an example of skeuomorphism: when a digital object mimics the appearance of a physical object to make it understandable.
The logic made sense in the 1980s. Anyone who had never used a computer needed familiar visual cues: folders, a work desk, a trash can, a notepad.
What changed was the function of the drawing. In the theory of signs, an icon works by resemblance to what it represents. A symbol works by convention, by learned agreement.
The floppy disk has crossed that boundary. It no longer reminds anyone of anything—it simply means "save," and that's it.
The object that most people have never held.
The floppy disk was commercially released by IBM in 1971, measuring 8 inches in diameter and made of flexible plastic, hence the name.
It shrank to 5,25 inches in 1976 and reached the 3,5-inch format, with a rigid casing, in 1983 [CHECK]. It is this last one, with the most remembered capacity of 1,44 MB, that became the design on your screen.
To put things in perspective: a single photo taken with a modern cell phone, measuring 4 MB, wouldn't fit on three floppy disks.
Hard drives began disappearing from home computers in the 2000s. Anyone who is 20 years old today probably never even touched one.
The other fossils on your screen
The floppy disk isn't alone. Your phone's interface is full of objects that have disappeared from the real world.
The dial-up icon is a landline telephone handset, with a separate mouthpiece and receiver. Devices like this disappeared from Brazilian homes decades ago.
The camera icon in many apps still features a rectangular body with a protruding lens and, sometimes, a drawing of bellows or an optical viewfinder — camera components that the cell phone camera does not have.
The hourglass indicates waiting time in various systems, although no one has measured time that way for centuries. The envelope means email, even for those who have never licked the flap of one.
There's more: scissors for cutting, a clipboard for gluing, a shopping cart for shopping. And the play, pause, and stop buttons came from cassette and reel-to-reel tape recorders.
In Brazil, floppy disks decided elections until 2010.
Here, the object had a specific and little-remembered afterlife.
The first Brazilian electronic voting machine, the UE96 model, ran on a 40 MHz Intel 386SX processor, had 2 MB of memory, and two 1,44 MB floppy disks for storage, according to the Superior Electoral Court.
And the format didn't disappear quickly. The 2006 model voting machines used a floppy disk drive until the 2010 elections, according to records from the Electoral Court. From 2012 onwards, these machines were updated and the floppy disk drive was replaced by a USB port.
In other words: while the floppy disk was already an internet joke, it was still being used to record votes in Brazil.