I wish I could tell you about a time before, so long ago that memory, mother of the muses, was herself a maiden.
Long before the art of writing altered time and space.
Back before even poetry, even speech.
Would that we could go back a few seconds before the first expression, just before the big bang that brings the first intellectual property into being.
Does a symphony cease to exist when the only remaining I/O for its data format bleeps its last?
From what I hear, communication runs deep. Our planet was wired for it long before we got here. Our brains since the chordata fork.