The Scientific Perspective

Gathered with bated breath, you and your Calcularian colleagues stare intently at the swaying arch of branches over the path ahead. As the wind slows, the branches of either side nearly contact at their apex. With each approach, a palpable tension, followed by a sigh as they drift apart. Then, with one final gust, the branches meet. You flinch at the sudden eruption of light as a Portal swirls to life in the formerly vacant space. While you envy those the Calcularia assigned to the engineering marvel that is the Fourth Transept, you now relish the opportunity presented to you. 1867 had marked an incredible leap forward in mankind’s capabilities, and yet these natural Portals form the building blocks of it all. A much more revelatory experiment than their laboratory counterparts. With a grin, you ready yourself for the dive.

Despite your eagerness, you cannot shake the fear of what may lie in the Realm beyond. It has been many years since your last dive, and the wisdom of age is little benefit in the face of unknown horrors. One glance back toward the gathered crowd, their nodding heads urging you forward. A deep breath, then you march. As you emerge from the inter-Realmic space, you cannot help but notice just how similar this Realm is to where you stood moments ago. The last Portal you observed led to a Realm of coiled cerulean trees bearing acorns the size of dogs. Now, you could swear you stood in an English plum grove. As you collect your bearings, you notice something even stranger. The echoing of human voices, laughter, carried on the wind. You are far from the first visitor.

Heading away from the village to your East, you understand why others would choose to stay. Temperate climate, bountiful harvests—it truly is picturesque. Lost in thought, you nearly miss the baffling sight at your feet. You jump back with a start, transfixed by the shifting golden shimmer. A distant whisper fills the air around you, both dreamlike and familiar. As quickly as you can manage, you draw from your pack a Pocketwatch and Guidebook—Realmwalker’s tools. A great honour given to you for your accomplishments in Portal research. You intend to record the coordinates of the mystery before you, but, as you hold your tools outstretched, the golden light funnels itself into the pages of your book. Scrawled text in an unfamiliar hand spells out the thoughts of some forgotten stranger. A morsel of their being, now yours.

The eager faces of your colleagues rush toward you as you step from the Portal, already recounting the journey. With talk of the village, each face brightens, then at the mention of the golden shimmer, they crowd raucously around your open Guidebook. ‘A Hope Echo. I hear of more sightings each year.’ ‘You came upon it swiftly, as if you were led…’ The discussion rages. Could Hope shape the mechanical aether of space, as Newton suggested, pushing us with invisible currents toward a destination? Or as Kepler proposed, it may share the ‘mutual corporeal disposition among kindred bodies to unite’. Hope within one’s own spirit, compelled by proximity to kindred Hope. Despite the boisterous enthusiasm of the crowd, something dampens your mood. You were pulled without notice, no will of your own, and, regardless of method, had there been intent?