Imagining a Tower

Enmerkar looked steadily at the stranger.

“What did the King say he wanted?”

“He says he wants to discuss a plan for a new building, something very big. Perhaps the biggest he has ever planned,” the messenger replied. 

The man’s clothes were covered in dust. He had obviously been riding a long time. In this heat as well.

“You must be tired and thirsty,” said Enmerkar. “May I offer you some refreshment?”

The messenger nodded and bowed slightly.

“Mariam,” called Enmerkar.

His sister arrived. Her eyes met his, she smiled briefly, bowed to the messenger and then lowered her eyes. Even with her head covered and even though her diamond-like eyes were no longer showing, she was more beautiful than any woman Enmerkar had ever met. No, he didn’t have any improper thoughts about her. She was his sister and you just did not think that way about your sister. But it did make it difficult for him to take a wife himself. His sister was setting a high standard. Besides, he had to look after her until he had found a husband for her and she was married. That was proving difficult.       

Enmerkar smiled to himself, though, as he watched the man’s eyes grew round. His sister always had this effect. No man between here and Babylon was able to resist her. Despite his tiredness, this man, Enmerkar could see, was aroused.

“Fetch some wine, some olives and some of our best cheese,” commanded Enmerkar. “And wear a full veil when you return,” he whispered.

“She is betrothed?” asked the stranger after Mariam had left them.

Enmerkar sighed. “No, she is far too fussy. Much too grand to elect a mere messenger from the king.”

The man blushed.

Enmerkar regretted what he had said straight away. He was not superior to this man. Yes, he was a master builder, like their father had been. They were a well-respected family and were quite wealthy now but they were after all just workers, servants almost. Someone from the king’s court would actually be a very good match indeed for Mariam.  

“Do you have any idea what he actually wants?” asked Enmerkar as he watched the man eat and drink.

“No, just that it is a big project,” replied the man. “A little crazy perhaps.”

“And there is no other builder who can do it?” asked Enmerkar.

The man shook his head. “He asked for you.”

Enmerkar sighed. “Well, I guess we should set off at sunrise tomorrow. But I warn you, I shall have to bring my sister.”          

King Nimrod slowly paced up and down as he talked. He waved his long arms every time he spoke.

“It will have to be the grandest building ever made. It must be glorious. It must speak to God!” He turned to look at Enmerkar. “You will have your chance, my friend,” he said, “to show off your fine building skills. To use your little baked bricks. It will be your moment of glory.”

Enmerkar shuddered inside. The type of building project Nimrod seemed to be talking about would take years. He only had a few skilled men who knew how to make the bricks and how to slime them together. Even training up others would take months. And he daren’t use unskilled workers.

And Nimrod was being so vague about exactly what he did want.  

“Is there really no other builder you can use?” asked Enmerkar. But he already knew the answer. He was, after all, the master builder.

Nimrod stopped pacing. “I will even accept your sister as a wife for my youngest son,” he said. “Without a dowry.” Then he laughed. “Though with what I propose to pay you for this project you could give a handsome dowry for a dozen sisters.”

That would be something, Enmerkar supposed. Get Mariam off his hands. Surely she would not object to marrying a prince? Even if it was not one of the heirs to the royal title. In fact, Nimrod’s youngest son, Joshua was far pleasanter than the twins, Hunor and Magor.  He’d even seen Mariam talking to him and laughing – without her face veil, the hussy – so perhaps already something was there. Perhaps this young man could make her happy.

He would have to accept this challenge. The building was going to be difficult. At least his sister would be settled and maybe he too would have time to seek out a wife. Maybe a fine one, here at the court. And with the sum Nimrod was prepared to pay, he would never have to think about money again.

“Very well,” he said. “But only if I have full control over the design, the choice of materials, the choice of workers and the pace at which the work is completed.”

“Indeed, my friend,” replied Nimrod and embraced Enmerkar.

The king was a tall, muscular man and immensely strong. Enmerkar could barely breathe as Nimrod squeezed him.

“Now let us send for our young relatives and let them know the good news,” said the king, finally letting Enmerkar go.    

It was even hotter here at the palace than at home. Enmerkar was finding it difficult to think straight. He dreaded baking the bricks for such a project. Would it be easier to have them made at home and transported here? It would be cooler there. A little at least. 

Home. Ah! This would be his home now. For years. Yes, years, not months.

There was one consolation. Mariam had accepted Joshua as a husband with only a little protest. “Oh, but why not Magor or Hunor? Think, brother, your sister as a queen!” In the end, though, she’d settled for Joshua. And he’d been right; they were falling in love. He’d even caught them lying together and had had to play the angry brother – though not too much so, because he was dealing with the king’s son. Secretly, though, he was pleased. So, a wedding had to be planned too. The sooner the better perhaps, if that couple were to carry on being so promiscuous. A prince’s bride should not be with child when she marries. Planning a wedding anyway was a welcome distraction from planning this impossible tower.  And there was something further that was also occupying his mind: the friendship he was enjoying with Naomi, the king’s niece. Could it be… would she be the one? She didn’t excite him, hardly aroused him even, but she was certainly pretty enough. Good company, in fact. He presumed love would grow …

But now he must get back to the tower. If he made it 5433 cubits, if he made it taper… then surely the bricks at the bottom wouldn’t collapse. He wanted it to be a sort of Ziggurat, Nimrod had said, but much bigger than normal. Just how many bricks would that need? How much clay would he have to find and how many men would he need to fetch the clay, shape the bricks and then put them together? He had some calculations to do now. He must not be distracted by the thoughts of weddings and of women.   

Soon he was absorbed again in his mathematics. The base was going to have to be huge so that the tower could taper and still be useful at the top. No one had been able to tell him - not even the sages Nimrod had asked in for advice – just how high he would have to make the tower so that it would touch the sky. But if Nimrod really wanted a true Ziggurat… well the spiral pathway up the tower would be so wide that he would be able to place small lodgings at the sides… maybe even small fields for the animals. And of course, people walking to the top or travelling by ass would need places to rest and take some refreshment. It wouldn’t just be a tower. It would be a whole city.

The noise of someone clearing their throat broke his concentration.

“And so how is it going, my fine friend?” asked Baltuus.

Enmerkar recognized the man he had dined with the night before. He was one of the sages who knew a lot about mathematics

Enmerkar sighed. “It is going to take a lot of clay, a lot of fire to bake the bricks and a lot of men. And no end of time.” He looked down at the notes he had made. “Seventeen years. And only then if I can find enough good men to train and if their training works.”

Baltuus shook his head. “Why must he build the tower so high? What does he hope to gain by it?”

“He wants to show what man can achieve,” replied Enmerkar.

“But why not just build a fine city?” asked Baltuus. “Won’t that do just as well, be more useful, and in fact much easier to build?”

“He wants to stretch it to Heaven, so that even Yahweh will have to admire how great man is,” replied Enmerkar.

Baltuus shook his head, as he examined Enmerkar’s calculations. “That will never work, my friend.”

“The bricks won’t hold, you mean?” asked Enmerkar.

“No, no, no, not that,” replied Baltuus. “Your calculations are correct. I’m talking about trying to impress Yahweh. Look around you. Look at the mountains and the seas. And the trees and the beasts. Now that is an impressive creation. Your tower is nothing in comparison.

“Now if you said that you were building the tower so that you could talk more easily with Yahweh, that might be a different matter,” said Baltuus.

“It would make him angry,” answered Enmerkar. He could just picture Nimrod’s answer to that.

Baltuus nodded his head and tapped Enmerkar’s shoulder. “Take care, my friend,” he said. “You are right. This tower will cause anger.”   

Despite the heat, Enmerkar shivered.

Babel Chapter Three

Girls

Kaleem stared at his nectar. How could he get himself to drink this revolting stuff? He braced himself and took a sip.

He was surprised. It wasn’t as bad as he had expected it to be. He took another mouthful. Maybe it was okay. It was beginning to do something anyway. Perhaps he would take Ben Alki up on his offer. Perhaps he would go and see the inside of a switch-off ceremony and find out what it was really like.

He took another big gulp of his drink. He put the tumbler back down, and then saw that half of the liquid had gone.

Suddenly, there were voices outside the entrance to the bar. Girls’ voices. A lot of giggling. Kaleem took another sip of the nectar.

Seconds later, they were in the bar. Kaleem tried to make himself look small. Despite the dyed hair, they would recognize him, even if they didn’t know why they knew him. He took another large swig of his nectar. It didn’t seem as sweet as it had before and he could tell that it had quite a punch to it. Why had he thought this was so bad? It was really rather good.

The giggling and chattering stopped. Kaleem could feel them staring at him. He looked up at the mirror behind the bar. His heart missed a beat. Rozia Laurence was staring at his reflection. She went deep red. Kaleem felt the back of his own neck and his cheeks go red. He emptied his tumbler. Rozia turned back to the other girls.

“Who is that? I know that face,” he heard one girl say.

“Kaleem Kennedy-Bagarin,” he heard Rozia reply.

He looked up at the mirror again. Rozia was going even redder.

“The Peace Child you mean?” hissed one of the other girls.

“Yep,” replied Rozia. “I used to be schooled with him.”

“But I thought he was blond,” muttered another voice.

“I guess he’s dyed his hair so that people won’t recognize him so easily,” Rozia replied.

“Didn’t work, did it?” whispered another girl.

“Come on, let’s leave him in peace,” said Rozia, out loud. She looked up at Kaleem’s reflection and smiled. Her cheeks were still pink. She signalled to the others that they should go and sit in the corner on the far side of the bar.

The droid was pottering about behind the counter. It glided over to Kaleem.

“Would Sir care for another nectar?” the electronic voice asked.

Kaleem nodded. He was used to it now. He was enjoying what it was doing to him. The droid poured the drink. He took the tumbler, got down from the high hoverstool and made his way over to where the girls were sitting. He suddenly felt very bold.

“Hi Kaleem,” said Rozia, smiling at him. Her eyes opened wide as she looked into his. “Let me introduce you to the others. Della, Marina, Renate, Jayne, Margiet and Sophia.”

The girls giggled and started to fuss over him. Kaleem found it difficult to concentrate. He certainly wouldn’t be able to remember who was who, even if he did remember the names. They all looked the same. That was probably one of the big disadvantages of aiming at perfect Terrestran looks. They all had the correct pale face, and dark, sleek hair. They were even wearing very similar tunics tonight, all of them the pale purple silk of mourning. Only Rozia was a bit different. Her face was so pretty with its fine, delicate features. And the way she kept blushing. Did that perhaps mean what he thought it meant? Hopefully. Maybe he had time for that sort of thing now. Of course, she knew him from before he was chosen as the Peace Child, before he went to live at the Citadel with the elders and before he’d gone to Zandra. Everyone admired him now. Maybe she had liked him a little bit even back then.

One name stuck out though, Sophia.

“Funny,” said Kaleem. “Do you know Ben Alki Mazrouth? He was here, just now. He had been hoping a Sophia would come in. You’re not her are you?”

The girl called Sophia wailed. “Damn, I’ve missed him,” she said. “We left it too late!”

“We had a job getting out this evening,” Rozia explained. “What with the departure and the wake and everything.”

Why have they all come out on mass like that? Kaleem wondered. What chance would the poor guy stand?

“Oh no,” said Sophia, biting her lip. “I’ll never get to see him.”

No you won’t, thought Kaleem. Not if you keep on turning up too late and if you bring all your hangers-on every time. “Do you know where he lives?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Sophia slowly.

“Well, why don’t you get over there?” asked Kaleem.

“What?” said Sophia blushing. “I couldn’t. What would he think?”

“I’d say he’d be very pleased to see you,” said Kaleem. “Poor bloke’s had a tough day.”

“You just don’t do that,” another girl hissed.

“Well call him up at least,” said Kaleem. “Do you know his call sign?”

“Of course I do,” whined Sophia. “But I just can’t. If he’d wanted to see me, he’d have waited.”

“Are you actually…?” Kaleem started.

“No they’re not, but they’d both like to,” Rozia said. “They’re both just being incredibly stupid and not getting down to it.”

“Oh for goodness’ sake,” said Kaleem. He suddenly remembered a bunch of gigantic velvety black tulips, a blond version of Rozia and a missed opportunity. “On Zandra, if a girl fancies a guy, she just sends him a big bunch of Black Tulpen. He can either accept or decline. Saves a lot of bother.”

“Well what if a guy fancies a girl?” asked another girl.

“Just asks her out, like here,” said Kaleem. He took a mouthful of the wheat and rye. Oh, this was such a waste. Poor old Ben Alki, wanting a bit of nice female company after the horrible things he’d had to do, and here was the very one he’d wanted to be with, pining away for him. The nectar was making Kaleem much bolder than normal. “Come on then, call him,” he said.

Sophia hesitated.

“All right then,” said Kaleem, “call him on mine. Then he won’t know it’s you.” He stretched out his wrist so that the minicompu was facing Sophia.

“Ben Alki Mazrouth 2751,” said Sophia tentatively.

The minicompu buzzed several times before Ben Alki answered, and the screen remained blank.

“Oh dear,” said Kaleem. “Looks as if he might have gone to bed. Or he’s taking a shower.” He went to log out.

“Hello,” said Ben Alki’s voice suddenly.

“Hey there,” said Kaleem, “sorry to wake you. But I think there’s someone here who would like to see you.” He switched his minicompu over to visual and held it so that its camera was pointing at Sophia. Suddenly Ben Alki’s lean face was filling the small screen.

“Sophia?” asked Ben Alki, grinning.

“That’s right,” said Kaleem. “Now, shall we send her over to you or are you going to come here?”

“Send her over to me!” replied Ben Alki.

“Make him come here!” cried Sophia at exactly the same time.

“She can’t go over there,” said one of the other girls.

“No, not the first time, on her own,” said another.

“You’d better come here, mate,” said Kaleem. “I don’t know. We Terrestrans, eh? Bit old-fashioned or what?”

He couldn’t believe he’d just done that. Shy, different, awkwardly unterrestran, unzandrian Kaleem Malkendy-Kennedy-Bagarin had just had a go at match-making. And it looked as if it was going to be successful.

Suddenly their corner of the bar was buzzing. Everyone seemed to be speaking at once. Well, not quite all of them. Rozia and Sophia were in a huddle in the corner. Sophia fiddled with her tunic and kept on smoothing her hair. The other four girls – whose names Kaleem still could not remember, were all over him.

“Do they really do that on Zandra?” asked one.

“Yes…” he went to reply.

He barely had time to answer before another chipped in with; “Well what are Zandrian girls like? Which do you prefer, Kaleem, Terrestrans or Zandrians?”

“I don’t know. It depends…”

“So just exactly what is it like, going in a Supercraft? What does it look like out there?”

“Well. It’s sort of… it’s…”

“Wow, you’re really brave you are… I bet it was scary when you were ill.”

“Yes, it was, it was, I erm…”

“Oh, you lot, let him have a drink. Can we get you another drink, Kaleem?”

“I, er no thanks” Kaleem managed to mutter. He leant forward and took another sip of the wheat and rye nectar. No, he didn’t want another. It had started to taste too sickly sweet again and the room was beginning to spin a little.

“Really, though,” said one of the girls. “What was it like going on a Supercraft? It must have been fantastic.”

Kaleem remembered looking out of the veriglass windows of the Supercraft. Yes, it had been fascinating to look at the planets and stars seeming to float by, once they had returned to normal drive. Yet, it had not been as intriguing as it might have been. On the way to Zandra, he was too nervous. On the way back, when he ought to have been more relaxed, he had been so disturbed by the voice file his mother had left him that he could not appreciate it. Besides all of that, he was quite nervous about coming back to Terrestra, meeting his grandparents for the first time, and being recognized as the Peace Child.

“I’d give anything to be able to do that,” the girl continued.

“Hi, guys, it’s me,” called a voice from the doorway suddenly.

The chatter stopped. Rozia nudged Sophia, who blushed deep red. Ben Alki walked into the room. He smiled slowly at Sophia. Rozia whispered something to her. Ben Alki made his way to the table where the girls and Kaleem were sitting. Rozia indicated the table next to them with her head and pushed Sophia over to one of the seats next to it. The others watched in silence. Ben Alki and Sophia sat also in silence smiling awkwardly at each other.

Finally, Ben Alki leaned towards Sophia.

“Can I get you another drink?” he said. His voice was hoarse and high-pitched, very different from the voice which had asked the elder the serious questions.

Sophia nodded and blushed even deeper.

Then the chatter started again, the barrage of questions. Just how many languages did Kaleem know? How did he manage to learn them? What had the prison been like? Was Charlek, the prison officer, really as friendly as they’d heard? Was it true that the food on Zandra was so much better that what they had on Terrestra? How did they manage to do that if they had no natural plant-life? Would the acorn programme really succeed?

They didn’t give him time to answer one question before the next one came along. There was a lot of giggling.

One girl, though, didn’t giggle, didn’t attack him with questions. She smiled gently now and then. Her eyes were wide open, reminding him a bit of the eyes of the adult-children in the dream he kept having.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ben Alki and Sophia walk hand in hand out of the door. He wished for a moment that he could do that. Slip away with a beautiful girl.

His throat became dry, but he could not face the mesmerizing sweetness of the wheat and rye nectar. He suddenly longed for cave water. He could not believe that he actually wanted cave water, after he’d been so bored with it for so many years. He wanted something that simple and now it wasn’t available. Not in a nectar bar, and not usually anywhere up on the surface.

Gradually, the questions stopped. The girls began to look tired-out by their own excitement. One by one, they started to leave.

Rozia didn’t, though. She stayed. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was gorgeous. Was she thinking the same? She kept avoiding his eyes. But then she would look up at him, smile shyly, blush, then look away again. She made no attempt to leave either.

The droid pottered around, clearing glasses from their table. Soon, the New Laguna was as quiet as it had been when he had first come in.

“I suppose we ought to go as well,” Kaleem said. He noticed that his voice had gone high and squeaky, just like Ben Alki’s had. He was trying to pluck up the courage to ask her if he could see her home. Stupid thing to say. It made it sound as if he didn’t want to be with her any more.

“Where can you get Black Tulpen on Terrestra?” said Rozia quickly. This time she did not blush. If anything, she looked paler than usual.

Kaleem’s heart missed a beat.