Following the early discovery of RNZ's 1996 time capsule beneath Parliament grounds, a frenzied competition has erupted. Government departments are desperate to cement their historical significance for future generations.

Sources report that the Ministry of Transport has hastily buried 20 traffic cones, three "Road Works Ahead" signs, and a half-finished infrastructure plan beneath the Wellington motorway. "We've labelled it 'do not open until 2075, or whenever they complete the Auckland light rail,'" said an insider who wished to remain anonymous.

Not to be outdone, the Department of Conservation has placed three kiwi feathers, an "optimistic" species recovery plan, and a petition against mining in national parks in a biscuit tin under a tree in the Waitakere Ranges. "We've included a note apologising to future New Zealanders for whatever species we've let go extinct by then," admitted DOC spokesperson Sarah Williams.

The Ministry for Primary Industries reportedly spent yesterday afternoon frantically stuffing Anchor butter packages, Fonterra annual reports, and photographs of cows into an old chilly bin before burying it in a paddock outside Hamilton. "We've also included detailed descriptions of what a cow was, just in case," said one official.

The situation escalated further when the Ministry of Education was spotted burying a mysterious container on school grounds that reportedly contained 200 half-chewed pencils and a collection of confiscated fidget spinners. "We've also included recordings of every school bell sound used since 1990, just so future generations can experience that universal feeling of Monday morning dread," revealed an enthusiastic Ministry spokesperson.

Even local councils have joined the trend. The Wellington City Council reportedly sealing an incomplete proposal for cycle lanes, three parking tickets, and a broken Snapper card in concrete under Cuba Street. "We've labelled it to be opened when the trains run for more than 3 days in a row, so effectively never,” said a council member.

The time-capsule craze has transformed Parliament grounds with mysterious holes appearing everywhere and officials from various ministries staking claims to prime burial spots under cover of darkness. Parliamentary groundskeepers discovered seventeen newly-buried containers in a single morning, with several more suspicious mounds yet to be investigated.

The Speaker of the House has now implemented a "one-in, one-out" time capsule policy, requiring departments to dig up something historical before burying anything new "At this rate, we'll need to rename Parliament grounds the Parliament burial grounds," he sighed.