Pandora’s Gate
Copyright ©
2016 by The Other Sean
This is an
experiment in epistolary fiction. We’ll see how it goes.
My dear nephew,
I call it Pandora’s
Gate. The rest of Earth may call it the Baltic Gate if they wish,
but they haven’t experienced it like I have, and it’s opening was
like the opening of Pandora’s box. But I’m getting ahead of
myself.
I was a child of
seven when it happened, back in 1881. Mother had walked me down to
the strand. The water was too cold for bathing but the strand was a
good place to walk. I remember when it appeared. One minute I was
seeing the sparkling blue waters of the Bay of Køge, glittering in
the early spring sunlight, with a blue sky filled with white puffy
clouds. The next a massive semicircle arced up from the water,
blotting out the sky. It was colorful. It was new and exciting. It
made mother worry. She dragged me back to the house, despite my
protests.
It was in the
newspaper the next day, of course. It was just a statement from the
government asking for calm and promising to investigate. By the time
the navy actually sent a ship some of the local fishermen from Køge
had sailed out to investigate on their own, and the town was abuzz
with the news before the newspapers. They’d discovered that the
semicircle was a gateway to another world, and there were islands
nearby. Denmark was first to claim one, but Sweden and Germany
followed within days. Russia and the other countries were too late
by the time they arrived; all the islands in the archipelago had been
claimed!
I don’t know what
negotiations or threats were made, but Russia managed to to acquire
one of the islands, and France another. That still left everybody
else out, at least as far as the archipelago went. But the
archipelago wasn’t one of the real prizes, as everybody learned
soon enough. There were other islands, and entire continents, on
which no man lived, and no nation yet held claim. There was more
than enough other creatures inhabiting those alien lands, and the
seas.
On land, the worst
were the horned lizards. They are swift, ferocious, and have teeth
that can tear a man to shreds. They’re nearly extinct here in New
Jutland, but you’ll still find one now and again. That first year
the gate opened, one of them devoured the Crown Prince of Germany when he visited the little German island. I imagine that’s not
something those of you in America have to worry about!
In the seas, the
question of what is the deadliest creature is another story, and open
to debate. Some say the giant sea serpents are the worst. They
usually avoid larger steamships, but they regard sailing ships and
smaller steamboats as prey. Worse, they can swim through the gate.
I was ten when I saw one in the Bay of Køge. It took a bit out of
one of the fishing boats, sinking it, but somehow the crew made it to
safety. Bad as they are, though, there are also the pseudo-crocs.
I’ve heard it said they’re not really crocodiles, but that
doesn’t matter, what does is that they’re just as deadly. They
can swim at sea for miles and miles, then crawl ashore and cause
chaos. That’s why the strand near Køge has been abandoned, and
why so much effort has gone into works to stop their spread.
Anyhow, despite the
deadly creatures that had been encountered, no country was content
with just their little island in the archipelago by the gate, not
when so much additional land had been discovered. That’s how the
New Jutland came about.
The King and the
Rigsdag may have organized the colonization, but if they hadn’t a
lot of Danes would have simply--
I’m sorry, I have
to stop here for now. I know you wanted to know more about our
family’s experiences with and beyond the gate, more than what your
mother told you, but I have received a phone call from my boss. They
need me to put in another shift. Give my love to your sister.
Your uncle,
Viggo
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