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"It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live." —Marcus Aurelius
One step through the portal, and your life is changed forever. With the Advancement, your body is transfigured. But this is only the beginning, for stepping out into Middara is to emerge into a life of eternal, ageless youth. The reflection you see after walking out of the portal is the same one you will see forever, unless you act to change it. This eternal life isn't the inheritance of the kings and queens, but freely given to all.
For many emigrants to Middara, this change represents the most difficult transition, even more than their Advancement. A tail or some weird ears will soon fade into the background, but not the constant reminders that things just work differently here. To live in Middara is to abandon short-term thinking, and realize that the future isn’t something you give to your children. All of us will be there.
Middara represents the achievement of a fundamental human desire; your days are no longer an urgent, finite resource, to be carefully managed as they fade and flutter away. You can always take your time, because a second chance is coming. If that isn’t enough, then a third or a fourth, or a fifth…
Society is thus radically transformed from a newcomer’s expectations. Just look at the structure of a human life on Earth: educate enough to work, work until you’re too old, then survive on what you put away until you die. This makes grim sense on Earth, but none at all on Middara. No career will ever be ‘complete’ nor will anyone naturally wear out and become too weak to continue working. There is no promise of some future day beyond which no further labor is required, because the period after is just as numberless as the one before.
A mortal human life might resemble that of an insect, transforming from one phase to the next in a linear cycle that ultimately leads to death. On Middara, a life is more like the structure of a song, transitioning from chorus to verse and back again until accident, illness, or violence finally ends the composition.
In a world without age, it’s still easy to guess who has recently arrived, and who has lived on Middara for centuries; risk-taking. On Earth it might make sense to spend a few grueling years working under terrible conditions, earning enough money to set you up for a better future. On Middara, the damage inflicted by such a life would be unacceptable to employer and worker alike. Likewise, the allure of glory won in battle and the youthful passion for a cause are far less likely to motivate someone with full comprehension of their eternal worth.
Though every portal on Middara connects with a different part of Earth, and thus produces a distinct culture, the trend is one towards caution, conservatism, and peace. Any action you take, no matter how impassioned in the moment, will be your companion for the rest of your eternal life. Choose carefully…
What is immortality?
The first task of every teacher to new arrivals in Middara is to communicate this difference; agelessness is not the same as immortality. The Advancement is the ultimate equalizer—to suffer through it is to emerge restored. Old scars vanish, old wounds heal, and physical disabilities vanish. Even the most devastating Earth disease is cured, and the body healed.
This equality is fleeting, however. Middara is a dangerous place, filled with numberless dangers. Its predators are powerful, its diseases virulent, and its wilderness untamed and poorly understood. Nor is vice cured by the Advancement. Just as on Earth, the greatest danger of all often comes from other people. We are our own most successful predator.
Middaran civilization is the physical embodiment of the survivorship bias. Over the decades and centuries, people still die. The largest number of new arrivals will be killed in their first decade, either by carelessness, ignorance, or poor risk assessment. The young think themselves immortal, and Middara is a swift and unforgiving teacher. Every error is likely to have permanent, if not fatal, consequences.
But past this filter, the survivors become wiser, more hardened, and more cautious. Why should you risk a dangerous job, even for exceptional pay? The factory or the farm might not pay as well, but you can always afford to spend more time there. Sure, going out into the wilderness or braving some newly discovered ruin might reward incredible wealth, but it could also put a premature end. This group represents the majority of Middarans; people who recognize their value and have gained the patience one might expect of an immortal.
For those who work long enough, who avoid accidents and aren't killed by disease or random violence, there eventually comes a third class of people. They become peerless experts in their chosen fields, masters far beyond what any human on Earth could reach. Craftsmen with centuries of experience, warriors of incalculable lethality, summoners with mastery of numberless disciplines. In their long lives, they have probably built thousands of connections, old friendships, and relationships of loyalty to call upon.
With every passing year, they continue to improve, albeit with frequent large breaks between their work. They have the resources to never work again, but to what end? They have already experienced every pleasure they might desire, visited every exotic location they were ever curious to go. Their ageless lives did not require them to sacrifice these to become successful; there was enough time for both.
On Earth, time itself is the equalizer, ultimately returning whatever the old have gathered to the young. That does not happen on Middara. Those who survive to become the most skilled, most wealthy, most dangerous—these have lived because they understand Middara best. The longer they live, the less likely they are to die with each new year. They're survivors.
When a new arrival through the portal looks up at their city's high street, they'll see the homes of the wealthy. Many of these will not be inheritors of unearned wealth from superior ancestors; they often belong to the revered heroes and ancient ancestors themselves, still living and more powerful than ever. That new arrival can't just wait for their chance, because time will never just hand it to them.
The best weapons in the city are made by someone who's been making weapons since before the new arrival's nation was founded. Fine art hanging on the walls was probably painted by some renaissance master, still creating masterpieces since Da Vinci taught them in the streets of Florence. These ancients promise a life of similar success, if only you can work as long and as diligently as they did.
But even that is no guarantee. They might not be smart enough, talented enough, or dedicated enough. Hell, they might not be lucky enough, and die from some random accident or sickness centuries before they rise to the positions they covet. On Middara, people have two resources to bargain. What if they don't want to trade centuries of their time? As they soon realize, a new arrival has something else to offer.
Your first few years on Middara will likely be spent learning about its dangers, cloistered far away from risk or responsibility. When this brief, second childhood comes to an end, there are two types of people who emerge from that safety. A small number are the children of the wealthy, who ascend to inherit the legacy that their parents built. Do not envy their wealth—their life was planned for them decades before they were born, maybe much longer. They trade stability for freedom.
The majority have no such ease waiting for them—their parents are ordinary people who saved for many years to bring them, not ancients or royals. Their parents work hard, but they've probably been doing the same thing for decades, if not centuries. Suddenly the exciting immortal life the Harbingers promised feels more like an eternity in the Amazon wage cage.
Or maybe their parents aren't on Middara at all. Maybe the Harbingers convinced them to come for some other reason, maybe their family was discovered and killed by Angels. For whatever reason, maybe there's no life at all waiting after their time in the Institute. You could build something new, it's true. You could find a thankless job on a farm or a factory somewhere and start at the bottom. It will take a very long time for you to learn enough to be useful. But if you have the willpower, maybe you could do it that way. You could climb the ladder as slowly as everyone else.
There's another option, though. You saw it before you even graduated; recruiting posters from your nation's military, from private contractors and adventuring groups. Now that you're out on your own, you take another look at those fliers. You compare the huge numbers promised for each year of labor, compared to the very small ones you can expect in the factory or working the fields.
Maybe the people all around you stop seeming wise and begin to feel cowardly. These offers of employment seem too good to be true! A decade in the city watch could set you up with the same wages you'd earn after a century in the fields! And if you're even braver, a single interesting artifact could give you the wealth for an estate of your own. Why should you sweat and suffer for so long when there's another way?
Middara is not some tamed and tempered land—beyond the city walls and the village boundaries are monsters that devour, horrific supernatural plagues, and demons thirsting for the immortal soul. Yet there are also incredible resources out there, artifacts beyond the skill of any modern craftsman to create, rare herbs and minerals, and useful creatures to domesticate.
Someone has to go out there and risk it all to bring them back. When civilization wants to expand, someone has to burn the ancient forest down and face the wrath of the Loas inside as their homes are destroyed. Even within the safety of city walls, there are entirely human dangers to face. Someone has to protect shopkeepers, someone has to keep killers off the street, and hunt down wild animals when they get inside the walls.
Few are willing to take such risks. What cause is worth an eternal life, or suffering permanent injury? In nations where citizens are free to choose, the market provides this answer. You could work for centuries to learn your craft, enjoying few of the luxuries promised to you in your new world. Instead, why not risk it all?
Even in these dangerous jobs, the average person is likely to be more careful. You have more to lose in a world where any mistake you survive is one that will follow you for an eternity. Fight cautiously and only when required, gather information and move slowly through the wilderness, fight carefully against wildlife using ranged weapons and known techniques. Only venture into ruins that others have already gone inside first to trigger the most dangerous traps.
Do that, and a few years exploring or guarding a village somewhere could jump-start your ageless life, rapidly learning the skills and gathering the resources you need. Move slowly, more carefully. Fight cautiously. There's always another day, if you can survive to see it.
Unless they're truly depraved or utterly desperate, even criminals know that violence is an ill-tolerated risk. Societies across Middara respond very harshly to killers, and inflicting a permanent injury on a victim likely comes with a permanent debt.
Conversely, money and valuables are far more replicable in an immortal life; there's always time to earn more. Those drawn to this path are most likely to choose robbery or theft, and only when their targets are away or otherwise unattended. If no one gets hurt, then the sentence waiting for them upon discovery will be likewise lenient. This informal social contract ensures that those lingering on society's underbelly are directed towards activities that leave no permanent scars, rather than suffering or inflicting pain that might persist for centuries.
Newcomers to Middara might even find these conditions comical from the outside—the city watch standing by as perpetrators escape with bags of stolen goods, criminals captured and released again and again with long and maybe even friendly relationships with the local constabulary. It may even seem as though they're in league with the underbelly, allowing the guilty to escape punishment for their crimes.
The reality is nearly the opposite, of course. As on Earth, Middara's laws serve those with the wealth to make them. By permitting some kinds of crime, the wealthy provide a necessary relief valve for inequality, aggression, and antisocial behavior, one that zealously protects their own hides. It's far, far better to suffer a financial loss than to lose a limb in a duel or have a loved one killed.
Some grim professions require killing, violence, and deadly risk. There is no amount of preparation, safety measures, and good custom that can make warfare safe.
Middarans hate war even more than Earth cultures do. A disabled veteran may need support for centuries, and a hole cut into a family will never heal. Nations may negotiate for decades to avoid conflict, always favoring diplomacy over violence as a means of resolution. Yet sometimes, no negotiation is possible. Middarans are still human, driven by the same desires and values that motivate them on Earth.
Conflicts are far smaller in scope. Even the largest nations will struggle to field armies larger than a few thousand strong. This advantage becomes doubly true for aggressor nations; substantial wealth is required to tempt someone to risk their life to win victory for someone else. Propaganda about dying for the motherland doesn't go as far when even the lowliest farmer hopes to live forever. Likewise, conscripts are even less effective, especially when thrown into an offensive meat-grinder.
Conversely, nations fighting defensive wars often have no choice. At the threat of destruction, the risk of losing one's home and family to an outside aggressor—these are powerful motivators, more easily filling the ranks. This is exactly the tactic Elenia uses to keep its navy staffed and the army well-manned; their larger neighbor is always looming overhead, a superior force ready to crush them at any moment.
For all warriors, wealth and glory are still powerful motivators. Vast spoils wait in conquest. Those who help their nations win decisive battles will be transformed into living legends. Those who fall in battle will be memorialized forever in impressive national cemeteries, to be honored for centuries to come.
In some ways, the lack of natural death can sometimes act as a destabilizing force in society, pushing governments towards greater authoritarianism. Nations cannot simply wait for political enemies, rebels, or just distasteful people to age away and die. These individuals will never grow too old to erode the social fabric, never too weak or too feeble to continue fomenting discontent.
Such people must be persuaded to reform, or removed one way or another. In the most severe cases, this may mean banishment, throwing them into an involuntary, one-way ticket out of their home.
Fortunately, this is rarely needed. Anyone who lives long enough to become a problem has also probably learned the lessons of moderation and social unity. It is never wise to burn a bridge you might have to cross again a few centuries down the road, after all. Most parts of Middara do not have a large population, and only their largest cities get close to half a million. Most towns are small enough that anyone who lives there will be surrounded by the same people for many lifetimes.
Far better to learn to get along than be hated by the residents of a home you will never leave.
