Season 1: Episode 2 – The Quiet Divide

This series contains mature themes and is intended for adult listeners.

>Begin Porta Cor imprint.<

It’s been a few months now since the first team of Anturians crossed through the Porta Segreta to Earth and returned.

Team four is there now.

Thankfully, there have been no deaths, no violence, and no resistance.

By some definition, I would call it successful.

But that’s how I know that we are headed for trouble.

Once the Porta Segreta was activated, we believed we had time. Time to decide how best to use it. Time to set rules and parameters. Time to remain Anturians.

After it was activated, the council stayed on the island for several more weeks, overseeing Adamo and his team’s training of our people in its use and maintenance. We also wanted to confirm it would function as promised.

“You will be staying for us to send our first team and then retrieve them again,” I asked Adamo one evening.

He beamed at me with a gaudy smile and said, “Yes, of course! We will stay for the first few to make sure everything runs as it should and your teams have control the whole time, but we’re here for questions or troubleshooting.”

I nodded.

Dahlfia then leaned in and asked him, “What happens if something goes wrong after you and your team are gone?”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that! With proper maintenance, these machines are proven to run flawlessly for hundreds of years.” A true salesman to the core.

Dahlfia smirked at him, “Seriously.”

“You can send word to us on Ricerca, and we’ll come as soon as we’re able to review any issues within the first 25 years of operation,” he added.

She nodded, “I suppose that will have to do.”

Mallaidh looked annoyed by Dahlfia’s comment, and she replied, “Of course, that will do. You heard him. The portal has run flawlessly for hundreds of years. Why would it fail here? Do you think our people aren’t smart enough to do what they’ve been trained and are still training to do?”

“Mallaidh, things break. It just happens,” I agreed, supporting Dahlfia. “It’s good for us to know what options are available when that happens.”

Oswalt nodded as he stood by, recording all the promises Adamo made about the Porta Segreta. I thought it was a good idea to have it on file somewhere.

Over the last week of our stay, we completed our checks and spoke with the teams. Most seemed not only confident that they could run, maintain, or repair the machine as was required, but that it would become an integral part of our everyday lives.

I took a deep breath and glanced at Dahlfia each time I heard this comment.

Finally, I whispered to her, “Perhaps my biggest fear is not that it will malfunction, but that it will be part of our everyday lives.” 

Nothing appeared to be faulty or broken, but I still felt uneasy inside, and no one but Dahlfia and Oswalt knew, because I was too afraid to be the only senior voice speaking up about my concerns.

One of the last tasks we had to do there before we left was set some boundaries and rules for our teams visiting the Earth. Most of us agreed we wanted to disrupt humans on Earth as little as possible. That was the moral and right thing to do.

We sat last week in a room, chairs facing each other in a circle, with Oswalt recording our every decision and discussion.

“I think the first rule we should establish is that only Anturians can cross between the two worlds,” I suggested. I knew Adamo had mentioned other planets using theirs to help with labor, but I didn’t like the idea at all.

Thankfully, this rule was solidified by almost everyone in the room and written in as the first directive.

Dahlfia added, “Our teams should avoid any human interaction or contact whenever possible.”

Mallaidh listened and then nodded in agreement. “I agree.”

Other councilors also nodded.

“This would mean killing humans is also strictly forbidden,” another councilor added.

“Definitely,” we all agreed.

The councilor Murithir chimed in, “We can observe them, though, right? That would be a great area of study for us. Naturally, we would avoid interaction in our observation.” Murithir gave Dahlfia a pointed smile.

I was about to suggest we strike that, but everyone else nodded in agreement, and Dahlfia was silent. I bit my tongue. I didn’t like the thought of another sentient race watching us and taking notes. Why would humans like it any better?

“Naturally, we are more evolved than they are, but perhaps there is something we could learn from them,” Mallaidh confirmed, a little egotistically. Then she stood up. “I think that will do to start. Oswalt, you will get these directives to Luidra so she can train the teams on them before they go over?”

Oswalt nodded, “Yes, Mallaidh. I will send them over to her now.”

Weeks later, back in the council chambers of Teithia, the conversations changed.

I sipped a glass of water in the council chambers, while various councilors milled about socializing with each other. Oswalt read something in his seat next to me, and he was deeply engrossed in the information.

During these short recesses between sessions, I liked to relieve myself, grab a drink or a snack, and come back and listen. To most people, the room would have sounded like a hum of jumbled quiet words, but I always marveled at how I could discern the general feelings and conversations of everyone there. My brain combined all the disparate data it pulled in through my ears, processed it subconsciously, and fed me a summary. In some ways, it was similar to being psychic.

Today, the conversations seem to have shifted in tone from the previous weeks, and it has started to unnerve me. Themes of help and manual labor popped out in the discussions with the councilors. I chewed on the corner of my bottom lip.

“Bryn. Bryn?” Oswalt was looking directly at me and waving his hand in front of my face. I nearly jumped by the time I recognized what was happening, as I had no idea how his hand could get so close to my face without my knowledge.

“Oswalt, sorry. What was that?” I asked him.

He smiled kindly at me. “You looked like you were in great conversation, but you weren’t talking to anyone,” he commented. “I became a little concerned.”

I smiled back at him, “Oh, you know, I was lost in my own thoughts, Oswalt. Sometimes I wish we could get a glimpse of the future to satisfy our curiosity when we were afraid of going astray.”

He looked at me curiously for a moment and was about to say something more when Mallaidh moved back to the front to re-engage the council in another session.

Dahlfia rushed up to my seat and whispered to my ear, “We’ll talk after this.”  She tapped my shoulder and then moved to take her seat as Mallaidh began.

“Today, a request has been made to discuss the findings from these humans on Earth. Councilor Murithir and his research team have prepared some information for us and have requested the floor.”  She motioned to Murithir, and he stepped up to the podium.

I noticed how the chamber’s lights made his pale blue skin look sweaty. I am cold-natured, so I was unlikely to be sweating in here, but I know several councilors, including Murithir, have commented on how warm the chambers can get.

“Thank you all for your time. Our researchers on Earth have reported that in earlier periods, the Earth was far less populated, and humans were much less evolved in intelligence. In some strange cases, their culture seems to go backward rather than forward, often brought about by government collapse or disease. Many of our scientists believe that in these times, humans would benefit significantly from our stewardship and guidance.”

He paused to take a drink of water, and I sat attempting to contemplate his word choices.

“They recommend that we approach one or two of them and see what we can teach them to help ease their situation and bring comfort to their very primitive and dark lives. They would like teams of behavior scientists to come over and join them, so that we can work with these humans to aid them.”

I lifted an eyebrow. What? What the hell happened to the avoidance of humans? Observe but not interact?

Murithir continued, “Our resource teams have been streaming back tons of mica, bauxite, and other sacred minerals to our operations. And I know I feel obligated to pay Earth back in some way, to give something back to the beings who inhabit the planet we take resources from. It feels like it should be an obligation of ours.”

Several other councilors seemed to nod in agreement. Were they feeling guilty for basically stealing natural resources from another planet and now wanting to assuage that guilt by pretending to make these human lives better? Could they guarantee that what we did would ultimately make their lives better? My brain flooded with questions and doubt.

“Really, a duty,” he went on. “We’ve had no deaths on either human or Anturian side. The Porta Segreta has worked perfectly. We’ve avoided all human confrontations to this point. But now I ask you, shouldn’t we give something back?”

Bariaeth, a female councilor from Tukdurin, stood up, “I think we should bring some of the humans back here for study. It would be impractical to bring all our equipment and technology to Earth, and disastrous for the humans if they found it or we left it behind. They should come here to be conditioned.”

Another councilor from Tukdurin, Hynfyd, stood up, and she said, “Studied? Let’s ask them if they want to come here and help us. I was down there with the second team, and I could use some of these strong humans around my house! They’re as strong as horses, but much more compact.”

I blinked. We were now comparing a sentient being to a wild animal.

Suddenly, all the councilors rose to their feet, arguing over what to do with humans. Some wanted to interact with them on earth and teach them medicine, the arts, and skills to improve their lives. Others wanted to bring them here to study them in a laboratory setting. And others tried to get them here for manual labor or other chores we didn’t enjoy and hadn’t yet found a way to complete through magic or science.

In the chaos of everyone talking, Dahlfia moved up to where Oswalt and I still sat. She pulled up a chair next to me and whispered, “I heard a rumor during the break that one of the councilors already has a human servant working in her home.”

I felt my breath catch in my throat, and my heart skip a few beats.

I looked to see where Mallaidh was; surely she needed to call the council to order and stop this madness, but instead, I found her arguing with several other councilors just as animated as the others.

I looked from her to Dahlfia, then to Oswalt, who looked confused, and then back to the chaotic chamber floor, “We may not have opened the door to Earth, but we opened the door inside ourselves.” I mumbled into the argument-filled chamber, unheard.

>End Porta Cor imprint.<