THE ARCHITECTS OF BABEL

The inhabitants of Babel were captivated by the perfect beauty of the firmament and wished to attain it. There were some who said that this was blasphemy, others that the heavens could be ably contemplated only by remaining at one fixed point on Earth, but these were ignored. The architects of Babel were contracted to design a tower that would reach up to heaven. They consulted the astrologers as to the most auspicious point of the earth at which to begin. Slaves were diverted to the task of construction and the edifice slowly rose until its height surpassed that of the surrounding hills. From the rising turret of the tower the firmament appeared just as distant as from the ground below and the architects of Babel began to mutter and worry that if they built any higher, the tower would collapse under its own weight. The inhabitants of Babel cajoled, chided and finally threatened them and construction continued until finally the tower tumbled to the Earth. Heaven was obviously further away than had originally been thought.

Undaunted, the inhabitants of Babel contracted the architects to design a greater tower, with wider and deeper foundations, that could rise higher still. The new structure rose steadily into the sky, surpassing the height of the old. The inhabitants of Babel watched it proudly, full of hope that one day the news would come that heaven had been attained. Some suggested that the myriad steps that had been constructed were enough, that it was unwise and indeed impossible to attempt to reach further.

Others said that perhaps the distance to heaven was infinite, and that the tower was a good imitation of that endless climb. They were ignored, and when each time the architects declared that it was impossible to built higher, the foundations were simply widened and a new tower slowly swallowed the old before rising higher. All of the land's resources were directed to the tower's edification.

The tower grew to such a height that those employed in its construction were, of necessity, born within it. Each section developed its own customs and indeed language; it became only possible to communicate with one's immediate neighbours; the instructions of the architects became garbled as they proceeded towards their destinations and capable of many interpretations. Some of the sections began to question the existence of the architects, whom they had never seen; and the majority began to question the authority of the strange, unmotivated instructions that continually arrived, mysterious and ineluctable from below. Each began to pursue its own dreams, to unfold its own plans, influenced and inspired to differing degrees by the orders received, and the tower became a glorious profusion of competing factions, a chaos.

The earthbound architects could see through their telescopes that their orders were not being executed; they wondered what had gone amiss; they guessed the truth and wondered if it would be possible to send plans modified and coded in such a way that their true intentions were made manifest. Some whispered that the insane creation rising above the Earth was the only possible outcome of such a blasphemous enterprise.

The result of the uncoordinated construction was that the tower became unstable. The inhabitants of Babel looked uneasily heavenward as the vast edifice began to sway. It was suggested that even if the lower parts fell, the upper floors, that pierced the clouds, would find an anchor there and float eternally a above the world, a second earth or a second moon. This did not happen. Others conjectured that when the tower collapsed its impact would break the earth into two pieces; that the waters would rush in and in a great cataclysm destroy Babel. This did not happen either; but when the foundations of the tower could no longer bear the various strains its competing builders placed upon it, when it shuddered and groaned and finally began to fall, it fell not like the trunk of a mighty tree, but in myriad parts that rained upon the Earth, shaking it with each impact. The inhabitants of Babel watched the disaster from caves. Some hypothesised that once the parts that caused the greatest loss of equilibrium had fallen, the tower would right itself and construction could continue. This did not happen: the tower fell almost completely, leaving only a jagged stump, which served for a while to remind the inhabitants of Babel of their folly.

The geometers of Babel discovered that a straight line through a given point (such as from the centre of heaven to the stump of the tower of Babel) is nothing more than a circle passing through that same point, whose centre is at infinity. While some postulated that the centre of such a circle would be the centre of God, others were reminded of their desire to attain heaven, to attain the infinite, for it had now been accepted that the distance to heaven was infinite; and they dreamed of a new construction to unite them with God. They reasoned that if a leap were made from the infinite to the finite, and the centre were placed at a given point, a circular tower could be constructed: a construction endless and hence infinite. They contracted the architects of Babel to design a great corridor that would ring their land, that once entered could never be left. Some suggested that a small but cunningly contrived labyrinth would serve the desired purpose, others that a modest circle would suffice, but these were ignored. In memory of the tower of Babel, the corridor and the walls enclosing it would be vast beyond imagining.

The astrologers of Babel chose the most propitious point for the centre of the circle, and the most propitious point for the construction's beginning, and work began. The architects erected a camp from which they sent their instructions to the builders; they watched as the walls advanced over fields, past canals, over the hills into the wilderness. Teams of messengers carried the dictates of the architects to the builders. As the distances increased the number of messengers required to transmit the words of the architects became greater and the messages became more garbled, as they constantly had to be translated into the languages of the lands through which the messengers ran. Fearing a repetition of the problems that doomed the tower of Babel the architects decided to sacrifice their comfort to the increased likelihood of the success of their task: in a vast caravan they raised themselves to follow the course of the wall, crossing plains and deserts and mountain ranges, after years reaching the builders who continued their interminable labour. They travelled with the builders, communicating directly with them, thus avoiding mistranslation or misinterpretation of their orders. Unfortunately they had unwittingly left themselves vulnerable to a new error: they were unable to determine in which direction to advance. They found themselves lost in an unfamiliar maze of mountains and valleys that seemed infinite. The wall meandered along, reflecting the landscape and their indecision. The architects began to argue; factions emerged, and the unthinkable happened: the corridor and the walls branched, each branch conforming to the opinions of a given faction. The branches multiplied, the number of followers of each faction dwindled, and progress slowed. Of the architects and builders who disappeared into the mountains, many, perhaps all, have returned shamefaced and disillusioned. It is rumoured that a small team still works to advance one branch of the mandala of walls and corridors, that one day they will emerge triumphant from the labyrinth, lead their advancing wall back to their place of origin, and the circle, such as it is, replete with false turnings, will be complete. None believes these rumours.

After it became clear that the new attempt had failed, the inhabitants of Babel, their pride wounded, turned their back on such grandiose schemes. The words of the dissenters, who had suggested that a ring of modest dimensions would be sufficient to undertake an infinite pilgrimage, were recalled. A new generation of architects was contracted to design this compact yet infinite path; it was completed quickly, without problems. Pilgrims and the curious flocked to the edifice, which while modest compared to previous structures, was still generously-proportioned enough to contain a multitude. Some quickly left the structure, claiming that after a few revolutions they had lost count and thus that they had felt as if they had completed, or participated in, an infinite trip. Others waited outside and harangued those who emerged, declaring that the faithful would not abandon their pilgrimage, but wander forever in the structure. Those who had emerged retorted that at least they had had the courage to face the infinite, instead of skulking in the shadows of the gates. They also told how two factions presided over the interior of the structure, espousing the doctrines of the clockwise and counterclockwise. The leaders of these factions would occasionally meet to debate the merits of their respective theosophies. On their arrival newcomers were tempted to join one or other of the factions with lurid promises of paradise at the conclusion of the pilgrimage. Relations were not cordial and occasionally fights broke out.

All of those who emerged agreed that the factions were in concordance in believing that the smaller the circle traced by their steps the closer they came to God. Some suggested that this implied that God inhabited the centre of the circle; others replied that this was a blasphemy as God is omnipresent; others argued that the geometers had explained that God lives at the end of the circle; others longed for a time when the points of the circle were each identical with the centre. Still others raised a claim made by dissenters before the time of the construction of the tower of Babel, that the only way to attain heaven is to contemplate it from one fixed point. They argued that a point is nothing but the smallest possible circle around its centre, and that the ceaseless wandering around the circumference was a waste of time. Some argued that this was a blasphemy, that it was an attempt to equate oneself with God, but these were ignored: those seeking to attain heaven withdrew to points determined for them by their astrologers, and there remained" contemplating the firmament.

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