The noise was being made by one of the ‘motorcars’ operated by a human. It was a warning sound.

Two or three seconds is not long enough for me to notice everything at once: some of these observations have been pieced together later, based on my recollection of what happened.

In the front of the car, looking out of the big glass window screen, was a woman, her eyes wide and her mouth pulled open in what I now guess was terror. The motorcar was travelling quite fast, and it was very close to a young human. The boy was facing away from the motorcar. I believe the first time he saw it was when we did: he turned his head to the sound that the motorcar was making.

Kallan and I both gasped. The motorcar was surely going to hit the boy! He seemed unable to move and the car hurtled towards him.

And then there was a blur of movement. From nowhere, it seemed to me at the time, a figure appeared: another human, who ran in front of the motorcar and pushed the boy out of the way. There was a thud as the front of the vehicle hit the person who had pushed the boy. Her body jerked upwards and on to the front of the car, hitting the big glass window hard with her skull, and then rolling off, landing at the side: a jumbled heap of clothes and limbs.

Other humans screamed and ran towards them. The motorcar carried on and smashed into a wall. A few seconds later, the woman operating it staggered out, wailing and crying.

It was very different from the movie we had just seen. Kallan and I watched, dumbfounded.

A small crowd had gathered. The boy was helped to his feet: he seemed unharmed. The woman who had saved him, however, had not moved. One or two Assistant Advisors – the Anthallans who act as guards and guides – had ambled over and taken out their healing sticks, but it was difficult to see what was happening.

And then Mr Park was next to us, waving his arms and saying, ‘Come on, move along, nothing to see.’

Except there was something to see. The woman was still lying on the ground, and people around her had straightened up and were shaking their heads.

‘Is she dead?’ I asked Mr Park.

He glanced back.

‘Most probably. High-speed impact of that sort is very likely fatal. Motorcars are prone to brake and sensor failure: that is, when the operator is in control of all the vehicle’s functions. Highly dangerous. Frankly, I am surprised this is not a more frequent occurrence.’ He paused, then added, ‘Thankfully it was just one of the exhibits and not one of us, eh? Now, let us leave them to it.’

I heard a wail of sadness coming from the group of humans.

‘Why did she do that?’ I asked Kallan in a low voice. ‘The woman who stepped in front of the car. She saved the young one’s life – but she died herself! It’s not rational. Not logical. She … she …’

‘She gave her life for his?’ he said solemnly. ‘It is the same reason they laugh and cry, I think. They feel things very deeply. It is why it is wrong for us to keep them here.’

I stared at him in shock. I had never heard anyone say such a thing. Kallan glanced around, aware that he had said something unusual.

In the years that followed, I never forgot those few seconds. How could I? The brief, ghastly image of the crumpled woman on the ground who died to save a child. Was it her child? I did not know. But I never forgot her, or the extraordinary and irrational thing she had done.

Nor did I forget the man sobbing in the screening room, or what Kallan, who became a friend, had said: It is wrong for us to keep them here.

That day was what led me to the decision I eventually came to.

That I would help Originals.

That I would return them to Earth, where they belonged.