Ted Chiang - Tower of Babylon.pdf - Ted Chiang - margozap

Ted Chiang, I am told, is a modest and self-effacing young man, but this trait evidently does not incline

him toward modest and self-effacing subjects. The last story of his I read, "Division by Zero," roundly

announces the death of what we're accustomed to calling mathematics. In the Nebula-winning novelette

you're about to experience, some postdiluvian miners break into heaven's anteroom. What will Chiang do

for an encore? A transcript of God's first press conference, complete with equations?

Born and raised in Port Jefferson, New York, Chiang holds a degree in computer science from Brown

University. In 1989 he attended the Clarion Science Fiction Writers Workshop, a program that has

incubated and hatched more of today's functioning SFWA members than all its rivals combined. Since

gracing the pages of Omni with "Tower of Babylon," Chiang has enjoyed sales to Asimov's and Full

Spectrum 3 (source of "Division by Zero").

"The inspiration for this story came during a conversation with a friend," Chiang tells us, "when he

mentioned the version of the Tower of Babel myth he'd been taught in Hebrew school. I knew only the

Old Testament account, and it had never made a big impression on me. But in the full-length version, the

tower is so tall that it takes a year to climb; when a man falls to his death, no one mourns, but when a

brick is dropped, the workers at the top weep because it will take a year to replace it.

"I suppose the original storyteller was questioning the morality of the project. For me, however, the tale

conjured up images of a fantastic city in the sky, reminiscent of Magritte's Castle in the Pyrenees . I was

astonished at the audacity, the chutzpah of the person who had imagined such a thing.

"Readers have commented on the science-fictional way this story extrapolates from a primitive world

view. I must admit I didn't notice that aspect of the story while writing it. (Perhaps because I was acutely

aware of how many scientific laws I was breaking; the Babylonians themselves knew enough physics and

astronomy to recognize this story as utter fantasy.) What I did think was science-fictional about the story

was the rationalistic position it takes on the existence of God. If you believe God exists, you can easily

interpret the universe in a way that supports your belief. But if you believe the universe is purely

mechanistic, you can find abundant evidence for that view too."

Tower of Babylon

TED CHIANG

Were the tower to be laid down across the plain of Shinar, it would be two days' journey to walk from

one end to the other. While the tower stands, it takes a full month and a half to climb from its base to its

summit, if a man walks unburdened. But few men climb the tower with empty hands; the pace of most

men is much slowed by the cart of bricks that they pull behind them. Four months pass between the day

a brick is loaded onto a cart and the day it is taken off to form a part of the tower.

Hillalum had spent all his life in Elam, and knew Babylon only as a buyer of Elam's copper. The copper

ingots were carried on boats that traveled down the Karun to the Lower Sea, headed for the Euphrates.

Hillalum and the other miners traveled overland, alongside a merchant's caravan of loaded onagers. They

walked along a dusty path leading down from the plateau, across the plains, to the green fields sectioned

by canals and dikes.

None of them had seen the tower before. It became visible when they were still leagues away: a line as

thin as a strand of flax, wavering in the shimmering air, rising up from the crust of mud that was Babylon

itself. As they drew closer, the crust grew into the mighty city walls, but all they saw was the tower.

When they did lower their gazes to the level of the river plain, they saw the marks the tower had made

outside the city; the Euphrates itself now flowed at the bottom of a wide, sunken bed, dug to provide clay

for bricks. To the south of the city could be seen rows upon rows of kilns, no longer burning.

As they approached the city gates, the tower appeared more massive than anything Hillalum had ever

imagined: a single column that must have been as large around as an entire temple, yet it rose so high that

it shrank into invisibility. All of them walked with their heads tilted back, squinting in the sun.

Hillalum's friend Nanni prodded him with an elbow, awestruck. "We're to climb that? To the top?"

"Going up to dig. It seems… unnatural."

The miners reached the central gate in the western wall, where another caravan was leaving. While they

crowded forward into the narrow strip of shade provided by the wall, their foreman Beli shouted to the

gatekeepers who stood atop the gate towers. "We are the miners summoned from the land of Elam."

The gatekeepers were delighted. One called back, "You are the ones who are to dig through the vault of

heaven?"

"We are."

The entire city was celebrating. The festival had begun eight days ago, when the last of the bricks were

sent on their way, and would last two more. Every day and night, the city rejoiced, danced, feasted.

Along with the brickmakers were the cart pullers, men whose legs were roped with muscle from climbing

the tower. Each morning a crew began its ascent; they climbed for four days, transferred their loads to

the next crew of pullers, and returned to the city with empty carts on the fifth. A chain of such crews led

all the way to the top of the tower, but only the bottommost celebrated with the city. For those who lived

upon the tower, enough wine and meat had been sent up earlier to allow a feast to extend up the entire

pillar.

In the evening, Hillalum and the other Elamite miners sat upon clay stools before a long table laden with

food, one table among many laid out in the city square. The miners spoke with the pullers, asking about

the tower.

Nanni said, "Someone told me that the bricklayers who work at the top of the tower wail and tear their

hair when a brick is dropped, because it will take four months to replace, but no one takes notice when a

man falls to his death. Is that true?"

One of the more talkative pullers, Lugatum, shook his head. "Oh no, that is only a story. There is a

continuous caravan of bricks going up the tower; thousands of bricks reach the top each day. The loss of

a single brick means nothing to the bricklayers." He leaned over to them. "However, there is something

they value more than a man's life: a trowel."

"Why a trowel?"

"If a bricklayer drops his trowel, he can do no work until a new one is brought up. For months he cannot

earn the food that he eats, so he must go into debt. The loss of a trowel is cause for much wailing. But if a

man falls, and his trowel remains, men are secretly relieved. The next one to drop his trowel can pick up

the extra one and continue working without incurring debt."

Hillalum was appalled, and for a frantic moment he tried to count how many picks the miners had

brought. Then he realized. "That cannot be true. Why not have spare trowels brought up? Their weight

would be nothing against all the bricks that go up there. And surely the loss of a man means a serious

delay, unless they have an extra man at the top who is skilled at bricklaying. Without such a man, they

must wait for another one to climb from the bottom."

All of the pullers roared with laughter. "We cannot fool this one," Lugatum said with much amusement.

He turned to Hillalum. "So you'll begin your climb once the festival is over?"

Hillalum drank from a bowl of beer. "Yes. I've heard that we'll be joined by miners from a western land,

but I haven't seen them. Do you know of them?"

"Yes, they come from a land called Egypt, but they do not mine ore as you do. They quarry stone."

"We dig stone in Elam, too," said Nanni, his mouth full of pork.

"Not as they do. They cut granite."

"Granite?" Limestone and alabaster were quarried in Elam, but not granite. "Are you certain?"

"Merchants who have traveled to Egypt say that they have stone ziggurats and temples, built with

limestone and granite, huge blocks of it. And they carve giant statues from granite."

"But granite is so difficult to work."

Lugatum shrugged. "Not for them. The royal architects believe such stoneworkers may be useful when

you reach the vault of heaven."

Hillalum nodded. That could be true. Who knew for certain what they would need? "Have you seen

them?"

"No, they are not here yet, but they are expected in a few days' time. They may not arrive before the

festival ends, though; then you Elamites will ascend alone."

"You will accompany us, won't you?"

'Yes, but only for the first four days. Then we must turn back, while you lucky ones go on."

"Why do you think us lucky?"

"I long to make the climb to the top. I once pulled with the higher crews, and reached a height of twelve

days' climb, but that is as high as I have ever gone. You will go far higher." Lugatum smiled ruefully. "I

envy you, that you will touch the vault of heaven."

To touch the vault of heaven. To break it open with picks. Hillalum felt uneasy at the idea. "There is no

cause for envy—" he began.

"Right," said Nanni. "When we are done, all men will touch the vault of heaven."

The next morning, Hillalum went to see the tower. He stood in the giant courtyard surrounding it. There

was an temple off to one side that would have been impressive if seen by itself, but it stood unnoticed

beside the tower.

He could sense the utter solidity of it. According to all the tales, the tower was constructed to have a

mighty strength that no ziggurat possessed; it was made of baked brick all the way through, while

ordinary ziggurats were mere sun-dried mud brick, having baked brick only for the facing. The bricks

were set in a bitumen mortar, which soaked into the fired clay and hardened to form a bond as strong as

the bricks themselves.

The tower's base resembled the first two platforms of an ordinary ziggurat. There stood a giant square

platform some two hundred cubits on a side and forty cubits high, with a triple staircase against its south

face. Stacked upon that first platform was another level, a smaller platform reached only by the central

stair. It was atop the second platform that the tower itself began.

It was sixty cubits on a side and rose like a square pillar that bore the weight of heaven. Around it wound

a gently inclined ramp, cut into the side, that banded the tower like the leather strip wrapped around the

handle of a whip. No; upon looking again, Hillalum saw that there were two ramps, and they were

intertwined. The outer edge of each ramp was studded with pillars, not thick but broad, to provide some

shade behind them. In running his gaze up the tower, he saw alternating bands, ramp, brick, ramp, brick,

until they could no longer be distinguished. And still the tower rose up and up; farther than the eye could

see; Hillalum blinked, and squinted, and grew dizzy. He stumbled backwards a couple steps, and turned

away with a shudder.

Hillalum thought of the story told to him in childhood, the tale following that of the Deluge. It told of how

men had once again populated all the corners of the earth, inhabiting more lands than they ever had

before. How men had sailed to the edges of the world, and seen the ocean falling away into the mist to

join the black waters of the Abyss far below. How men had thus realized the extent of the earth, and felt

it to be small, and desired to see what lay beyond its borders, all the rest of Yahweh's Creation. How

they looked skyward, and wondered about Yahweh's dwelling place, above the reservoirs that contained

the waters of heaven. And how, many centuries ago, there began the construction of the tower, a pillar to

heaven, a stair that men might ascend to see the works of Yahweh, and that Yahweh might descend to

see the works of men.

It had always seemed inspiring to Hillalum, a tale of thousands of men toiling ceaselessly, but with joy, for

they worked to know Yahweh better. He had been excited when the Babylonians came to Elam looking

for miners. Yet now that he stood at the base of the tower, his senses rebelled, insisting that nothing

should stand so high. He didn't feel as if he were on the earth when he looked up along the tower.

Should he climb such a thing?

On the morning of the climb, the second platform was covered edge to edge with stout two-wheeled

carts arranged in rows. Many were loaded with nothing but food of all sorts: sacks filled with barley,

wheat, lentils, onions, dates, cucumbers, loaves of bread, dried fish. There were countless giant clay jars

of water, date wine, beer, goat's milk, palm oil. Other carts were loaded with such goods as might be

sold at a bazaar: bronze vessels, reed baskets, bolts of linen, wooden stools and tables. There was also a

fattened ox and a goat that some priests were fitting with hoods so that they could not see to either side

and would not be afraid on the climb. They would be sacrificed when they reached the top.

Then there were the carts loaded with the miners' picks and hammers, and the makings for a small forge.

Their foreman had also ordered a number of carts be loaded with wood and sheaves of reeds.

Lugatum stood next to a cart, securing the ropes that held the wood. Hillalum walked up to him. "From

where did this wood come? I saw no forests after we left Elam."

"There is a forest of trees to the north, which was planted when the tower was begun. The cut timber is

floated down the Euphrates."

"You planted a entire forest ?"

"When they began the tower, the architects knew that far more wood would be needed to fuel the kilns

than could be found on the plain, so they had a forest planted. There are crews whose job is to provide

water, and plant one new tree for each that is cut."

Hillalum was astonished. "And that provides all the wood needed?"

"Most of it. Many other forests in the north have been cut as well, and their wood brought down the

river." He inspected the wheels of the cart, uncorked a leather bottle he carried, and poured a little oil

between the wheel and axle.

Nanni walked over to them, staring at the streets of Babylon laid out before them. "I've never before

been even this high, that I can look down upon a city."

"Nor have I," said Hillalum, but Lugatum simply laughed.

"Come along. All of the carts are ready."

Soon all the men were paired up and matched with a cart. The men stood between the cart's two pull

rods, which had rope loops for pulling. The carts pulled by the miners were mixed in with those of the

regular pullers, to ensure that they would keep the proper pace. Lugatum and another puller had the cart

right behind that of Hillalum and Nanni.

"Remember," said Lugatum, "stay about ten cubits behind the cart in front of you. The man on the right

does all the pulling when you turn corners, and you'll switch every hour."

Pullers were beginning to lead their carts up the ramp. Hillalum and Nanni bent down and slung the ropes

of their cart over their opposite shoulders. They stood up together, raising the front end of the cart off the

pavement.

"Now PULL," called Lugatum.

They leaned forward against the ropes, and the cart began rolling. Once it was moving, pulling seemed to

be easy enough, and they wound their way around the platform. Then they reached the ramp, and they

again had to lean deeply.

"This is a light wagon?" muttered Hillalum.

The ramp was wide enough for a single man to walk beside a cart if he had to pass. The surface was

paved with brick, with two grooves worn deep by centuries of wheels. Above their heads, the ceiling

rose in a corbelled vault, with the wide, square bricks arranged in overlapping layers until they met in the

middle. The pillars on the right were broad enough to make the ramp seem a bit like a tunnel. If one

didn't look off to the side, there was little sense of being on a tower.

"Do you sing when you mine?" asked Lugatum.

"When the stone is soft," said Nanni.

"Sing one of your mining songs, then."

The call went down to the other miners, and before long the entire crew was singing.

As the shadows shortened, they ascended higher and higher. With only clear air surrounding them, and

much shade from the sun, it was much cooler than in the narrow alleys of a city at ground level, where the

heat at midday could kill lizards as they scurried across the street. Looking out to the side, the miners

could see the dark Euphrates, and the green fields stretching out for leagues, crossed by canals that

glinted in the sunlight. The city of Babylon was an intricate pattern of closely set streets and buildings,

dazzling with gypsum whitewash; less and less of it was visible, as it seemingly drew nearer the base of

the tower.

Hillalum was again pulling on the right-hand rope, nearer the edge, when he heard some shouting from the

Ted Chiang - Tower of Babylon.pdf

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