They built the elevator like a fortress—a vertical tunnel with multiple blast doors, environmental locks, and a carriage made of transparent aluminum three inches thick. The controls were biometrically keyed to Longevos only. Visitors would be escorted, monitored, and limited to ten at a time.
The invitation went out through back channels, encrypted, to select parties: journalists with reputations for integrity, scientists known for open minds, diplomats from neutral nations, and—controversially—representatives from the Ephemeral League.
The response was silence for weeks. Then, acceptances. Cautious, conditional, but acceptances.
The first group arrived in late summer, when the surface was briefly green. Three journalists, two biologists, a UN observer, and two Ephemeral League representatives in plain clothes but with military bearing.
Kael and Leila met them at the surface airlock. The Ephemeral League men—named Voss and Chiang—studied them with cold, assessing eyes.
"You understand this is a reconnaissance mission," Voss said bluntly. "We're here to determine if your settlement is a threat."
"We understand," Kael said evenly. "This way."
The elevator descended slowly, giving views of the mountain's interior through transparent sections. They passed through the first residential levels—clean, well-lit, with murals painted on stone walls depicting Earth's ecosystems.
"Population?" Chiang asked, taking notes on a tablet.
"Currently four hundred twenty-three," Leila answered. "Including forty-seven children."
The biologists perked up. "Children? Are they... like you?"
"Varied," Leila said. "You'll see."
They reached the Skywell level. The doors opened.
The visitors stepped out into another world.
Sunlight—real, redirected sunlight—filtered through leaves. A stream burbled over artfully arranged stones. Birds sang. The air smelled of flowers and damp earth. And everywhere, Longevos went about their lives: a woman painting at an easel, her brush strokes impossibly precise; children playing a game that involved tossing stones with careful, controlled strength; elders tending gardens, their movements economical and graceful.
Elara, now nearly three, approached with the unselfconscious curiosity of a child. She stopped before the UN observer, a woman named Anya.
"You're sad," Elara said matter-of-factly. "Your husband is sick. It's cancer. You should bring him here. We could help."
Anya stared, shocked. "How could you possibly—"
"I can smell it," Elara said simply. "The cell changes. We have medicines from plants we designed. They might work."
Voss from the Ephemeral League stepped forward. "Designed plants? You're engineering life now?"
"Engineering?" Elara looked confused. "We're just helping things grow better. Like Papa helps rocks become rooms."
The simplicity of her perspective disarmed them. The journalists took notes furiously. The biologists asked about the ecosystem's balance. The Ephemeral League representatives watched, their coldness thawing incrementally in the face of undeniable, thriving life.
The tour continued: the Library Vault with its knowledge archive, the Medical Ring where Aris and Lin demonstrated cellular regeneration on a cultured tissue sample, the Council Chamber with its three circles.
Finally, in the Heartstone, Kael addressed them formally.
"You came to see if we're a threat," he said. "Look around. We're building, creating, learning. We ask only to exist."
Voss spoke, his voice less certain now. "Your existence changes everything. Economics, politics, human identity."
"Yes," Kael agreed. "Like fire changed everything. Like agriculture. Like electricity. Change isn't inherently good or evil. It's what we do with it."
Chiang asked the question they'd all been thinking: "And if more of you appear? If you become the majority?"
Kael smiled, a sad smile. "We don't reproduce quickly. Our pregnancies are rare. Our children are precious. We will never be the majority. We will always be the few who live long enough to remember mistakes so others don't have to repeat them."
The visitors left hours later, their recording devices full, their assumptions shattered. As the elevator ascended, Anya, the UN observer, turned to Kael.
"My husband," she said quietly. "Would you really try?"
"Send his medical files," Kael said. "We'll do what we can."
The Ephemeral League representatives said nothing, but their rigid postures had softened.