The Babel Tower Page 9

  Katarina stood by Liz. “Can you imagine what this pitch could do for stock prices at the opening?”

  The board’s attention stayed on the design on the wall. The building’s base spread wide, like the Eiffel Tower. But it rose from there in block cascades, the edges like steep stair steps.

  Liz explained how she wanted the bottom floors to be open and hollow. The lobby would be high above the ground, because this would not be an office building. It would become a home.

  The board posed a few questions, but mostly listened as Liz spoke. Her passion for the plan flooded the room. No one could doubt the impressiveness of the design. None of them knew the architect who inspired it.

  When Liz finished, Katarina called for the vote. They went around the table. Nine said yes, three said no. But nine was all Liz needed. She would build the tower.

  PART TWO

  And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which the children of man had built. And the Lord said, “Behold, they are one people, and they have all one language, and this is only the beginning of what they will do. And nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them.” Genesis 11:5-6

  18

  Liz sat in a folding director’s chair in a cornfield, legs crossed, grey Sunday sweater, blue sky. She faced a reporter named Nancy Drake. Katarina had insisted on the interview and the location. We need to get out in front of the press. It has to be you. Charm them.

  Nancy Drake was a legend, old enough to be Liz’s mother. Her hair had an unnatural blonde glow. Her back was too straight, her face too made up. A coral flower pin adorned her suit lapel.

  “You guys ready?” Nancy asked the row of cameramen. They gave her the thumbs up, and she turned to Liz. “Any questions before we start?”

  Liz shook her head.

  “It’ll be streaming live immediately around the world,” Nancy said. “That’s what the people like. It’s real, it’s honest.” She looked at a guy standing beside a camera man. “Joe, what are the numbers now?”

  “About ten million, and rising,” he said, glancing down at his tablet. “Over half from outside the country.”

  Nancy nodded, turning with a smile to Liz. “Impressive. The President rarely draws that much, but I guess everyone with a Babel has heard of you, and that’s half the world now.” Nancy leveled a more serious look at Liz. “Let’s make this good, okay?”

  “You’re asking the questions.”

  “Great. Joe, let’s get rolling.”

  The man nodded and held up his fingers. Three. Two. One.

  Nancy smiled into the cameras. “Welcome, friends, to western Nebraska. I am Nancy Drake with Global News, and it is my pleasure to be hosting the first, excusive interview with Elizabeth Trammell, the CEO of Babel and the driving force behind what will be the tallest skyscraper in the world.” She turned to Liz. “Tell us, Ms. Trammell, how did you first get the idea for this tower?”

  “From my Dad.” Liz knew at least the first question, and her answer. “He was an architect, and the basic tower design was his. Ever since he passed away, I’ve wanted to honor his memory.” Liz’s expression remained calm, unemotional.

  “A daughter’s tribute to her father. Many of the world’s wonders were built to honor a lost loved one. The pyramids, the Taj Mahal, and now your tower.” Nancy paused, a show of drama. “But why here, with nothing around for miles? You’re not from Nebraska are you?”

  “Actually, I was born near here, in Arthur, Nebraska.”

  “What can you tell us about your hometown?”

  “It has about a hundred people, mostly farmers. I left when I was eight years old. I grew up mostly in Chicago. We considered building in Chicago, and lots of other locations. We even looked at building somewhere in the ocean, with pylons like a drilling rig. But in the end this place was the best fit.”

  “Now that’s interesting. A skyscraper in the ocean! How did you decide against that?”

  “I wanted a place that would be safe from disturbance.”

  “That’s all?” Nancy asked.

  “We’re also above the largest aquifer in the country.”

  “What can you tell us about the tower itself?”

  “The tower will be unlike anything you’ve ever seen,” Liz said. “It will be self-sustaining, a world unto itself. So it’s better not to think about it like a skyscraper. The lobby will be about as high as the fiftieth floor in a normal building. But that won’t quite be half way up.”

  “There’ve been rumors about this lobby.” Nancy gave a conspiratorial look to the cameras. “Some say there won’t be a ground floor at all.”

  “That’s right.” Liz held up her hands, pressing her fingers together, with the palms expanding outward. “Think of the Eiffel Tower. The base has to be wide to allow the tower to reach higher. And when people come, most will stay. They won’t go in and out much, so we won’t need a ground floor. They’ll have everything they could want right there. They will live in the tower.”

  “For how long?”

  “How long do people normally stay in their own city?”

  Nancy laughed. “That’s quite the ambition. Are you planning to move in and stay?”

  “I am.”

  “The top floor?”

  Liz nodded, for the first time feeling a touch of warmth in her face.

  “How high will that be?”

  “A mile—twice as tall as anything ever built.”

  “I can only imagine the view from up there. Now,” Nancy spared a glance for the camera, “how much does a building like this cost?”

  “Too much, Nancy.”

  The reporter laughed again. It sounded slightly fake. “How does that translate into dollars?”

  “Around five billion.” The words came out casually, honestly.

  Nancy’s eyes opened wide. “That’s nearly your entire fortune, if the estimates are right.”

  Liz nodded. “I’d build it taller if I had more to spend.”

  Nancy breathed in deeply, then smiled, as if she liked where this was going. “You know what they say about money. The way you spend it says a lot about you.”

  “This is important to me.”

  “Because you could be spending this money so many ways, right?”

  Liz shrugged.

  Nancy pressed her. “Like feeding the poor, or funding cancer research.” She turned to the camera again. “Five billion dollars folks, imagine what you would do with it.”

  No emotion showed on Liz’s face as she gazed back.

  “That leaves the big question,” Nancy continued. “Why is this tower so important to you?”

  “Many reasons.”

  “Like your father?”

  “That’s one. But this is for all humanity.”

  “When people see your tower, when they hear about it, what do you want them to think?”

  “I want them to join me.”

  “That sounds like an invitation.” Nancy scooted to the edge of her chair. “Please, tell us more.”

  “I’ve traveled the world and talked to people of every nation and culture. What Babel has shown me is that people everywhere feel the same yearning deep inside. It’s a sense that this world is not what it could be. Our translation devices are a step in the right direction, bridging language differences and bringing people together. This tower is the next step.”

  “That’s quite a vision. But the world has many towers. How is yours so different?”

  “It’s taller,” Liz joked.

  “And?”

  “It’s what will happen inside the tower that’s amazing. Anyone may visit the lower floors to see for themselves. There will be libraries and hospitals and gardens. There will be beauty and excellence and peace.”

  “You mentioned lower floors,” Nancy said, eagerness in her eyes. “What about the upper ones?”

  Liz smiled. “No comment.”

  “How many floors are we talking about?”

  “Yet to be determined. But w
e’re counting in hundreds.”

  “You’re quite a saleswoman. Who will be invited?”

  Liz fixed her eyes on the camera. “Everyone. I believe the right people will come. The people who care about challenging the status quo. People who want to push the frontiers of the human spirit. My tower will remove the cap that society has placed on us throughout history.”

  “What cap is that?”

  “Everything that holds people back—government and culture and poverty and sickness and fatigue. We will work to solve these limits for our tower residents. No doors will be closed. We are going to assemble the world’s greatest minds.”

  “How will you convince them to come?”

  “For starters, I’m pleased to announce that we’re opening an exclusive contest to solve the puzzle of aging. We plan to conquer death.”

  “That’s something you don’t hear every day,” Nancy said. “Some scientists might be interested…what’s the prize?”

  Liz leaned forward. “Fifty million dollars.” She paused to let it sink in. “There’s more information to come, but here’s the point. This is just the beginning. We’ve cracked the problem of language, right? So now we’re going to fight back against death and everything else that holds humans back. The possibilities are endless. Maybe next we’ll beat gravity by launching into space from the tower. This tower has unlimited potential, because we have unlimited potential.”

  “Fascinating, Ms. Trammell. Can you tell us when construction will start?”

  “We break ground tomorrow.”

  “And people can watch?”

  “Absolutely. Babel’s website will be streaming the live video feeds constantly.” Liz pointed behind them, where lines of temporary construction housing were beginning to fill the landscape. “People have come from all over the world to build this tower. They’ll be working side by side, from every culture and language.” Liz looked into the camera again, envisioning the millions of viewers like a crowd sprawled before her on the cornfield, a crowd eager to believe in something new and special. “You don’t want to miss this,” she said. “History has seen nothing like it. Prepare to be amazed.”

  19

  The Crown Prince of Dubai, Nasir bin Muhammad, had exotic tastes. At twelve it was Maserati race cars. At fifteen it was girls; at twenty, academic degrees; twenty-five, buildings; thirty, one building and one girl. She was on the screen before him. Blonde hair and a face like Venus. He wasn’t supposed to like this. He was supposed to like veils and dark eyes. He liked her even more.

  She said she would build the tallest tower in the world, and his heart fluttered.

  She’s like me, he thought.

  He already planned to buy the company, with the Russian’s help, but was that enough? Katarina wanted to take over Babel. She had promised access to the data, but the prince knew better than to trust her. His American intelligence friends had warned him that she was a spy. That would not stop him from using her to acquire Babel.

  But now he realized: Babel needs Liz Trammell. Shouldn’t he try to keep her around? He couldn’t buy her, couldn’t woo her. But he could meet and impress her. He would have to proceed carefully. She would be watched.

  His agents had acquired her personal cell number. He typed an encrypted message: Saw the interview. Heard about your tower. Mine is bigger.

  A reply came within a minute: I always win pissing contests.

  He laughed and typed: Women are not so foul in my country.

  Liz: Who is this?

  You face many risks.

  You must be scared. My tower will be taller.

  I fear no man.

  I’m not a man.

  The prince smiled. He replied: That is your problem.

  And am I your problem?

  The prince wasn’t sure how to respond. He glanced up. The stars were countless above his palace courtyard. No one was near. But it didn’t feel that way. It felt like this voice—from a woman in a faraway land—had entered his world, amusing him with secret conversation.

  He typed: You want to know me?

  Liz: Maybe.

  We’ll meet in London.

  When?

  Whenever you’d like. Maybe when you need my help?

  It’ll be a long wait.

  I have much cash. If you need it, we can meet. We can talk.

  A pause.

  Will you be wearing pink?

  The prince laughed again. This Liz was different. I will find you, he typed. You will wear black. You will cover your hair.

  Unlikely.

  Not orders, offers. I know things you need to know. And I have funds.

  So do I.

  I will wait for your text.

  Enjoy the wait. Have a long life.

  See you when the time is right.

  No texts followed. Excitement swirled in the prince’s chest. He began thinking of a way to make this woman, this muse, want to see him. Maybe the American spies could help.

  20

  “Mom thinks you should sell,” Annie said.

  “I know.” Jake didn’t look up at his little sister. He knelt on the dark soil, inspecting the wire fence around the blueberry bushes. He knew what his mother thought. He also knew there was a hole somewhere in this fence.

  Probably a rabbit. The most destructive, soft, and innocent-looking creature God ever made. Other than humans. The thought made Jake laugh a little.

  Annie knelt beside Jake. She poked his side, and he laughed again. “What’s so funny?”

  “Rabbits,” Jake said, “and you.”

  She smacked her chewing gum, poked him again.

  “Quit that and help.” He tried not to laugh again. He pointed to the wire. “You see any holes?”

  “Only in your head. I was talking about Mom.”

  “Well, I don’t want to talk about her.”

  “Yeah, we know.” She planted herself in front of him, pulled at her ponytail. “Come on, stand up. We need to talk about this.”

  “I’m trying to fix the fence.” But he stood all the same.

  Annie looked up at him, now towering above her and smiling. “You know what I think?”

  “I’m sure I will soon.”

  “You’re stubborn. I mean, that’s nothing new. But they’re offering a lot of money.”

  “Land’s not—”

  “Yeah, I know, land’s not for sale. But things are tight around here. I heard what you said to Pops about the corn prices. Not good this year, right?”

  Jake gazed back at the fence and spotted a little hole. Just big enough for a rabbit. He bent down to patch it.

  “Well,” Annie continued. “Have you thought about the rest of us? Grandma has medical bills, and I’m sure Pops will too. They’re not getting any younger. And what if I want to go to college?”

  Jake sighed as his hands twisted new wire into place on the fence. “I want you to be able to go to the best school you can. We’ll make it work.”

  “Oh yeah? How?”

  “You’re smart. Maybe you’ll get a scholarship.”

  “Maybe? You think that’s good enough when someone is offering enough to guarantee it.”

  “Nothing in life is guaranteed.”

  “Come on, at least consider her offer.”

  Jake tied off the last of the wire and stood. He smiled down at his sister. “Maybe for you…”

  “You think this lady, Liz Trammell, will come back?”

  “I…yeah, probably.”

  Annie’s eyes locked onto his. Her question had caught him unarmed. “Do you think she’s pretty?”

  He shook his head, trying to hide his expression. Annie could see into him better than anyone—like she had a homing device for anything that ruffled his calm.

  She just chewed her gum, studying him, waiting.

  “The blueberries were good this year, weren’t they?” He poked her playfully in the side and turned toward the house.

  “Hey!” She rushed to catch up. “I’m not done with you.
You’re avoiding the question.”

  He shrugged. Guilty.

  As they walked beside each other, Annie pointed to the west, where the sky looked like a painting. “This Liz, you know, her tower could be beautiful against a sunset like this.”

  Her tone was of admiration. Jake knew she was baiting him, but he couldn’t resist. “It’s a fool’s errand,” he said. “An idol made by man.”

  “Mom and I listened to her interview. She’s making a statement for the world, a monument to potential. Why does that bother you so much?”

  “Think about it, Annie. A monument to whose potential?”

  “Humans, I guess.”

  “Exactly. This tower’s setting up humans like they’re God. It’s been tried before—to build to the heavens, to prove there are no limits to our potential. You know how God responded. He gave the people different languages and scattered them across the earth. So now Liz Trammell has solved the language barrier and will build a tower to our potential, to try to defeat death? It’s all pride, Annie. Don’t be fooled by it. Whatever the new technology, God is still God. He’s the creator and we are the creation. Anytime we try to set ourselves up like God, it ends badly. We do not want to be part of this.”

  “Well then…” Annie let out a little laugh. “Now I know how to wind you up for the Tower of Babel lecture.”

  Jake grinned and raised his hand like a professor. “You’re welcome in my class anytime. It’s all about the pride of man. Pride cometh before the fall…pride gets no pleasure out of having something, only out of having more of it than the next man.” Jake paused. “Should I go on?”

  “I think I got it.” Annie’s laughter faded into silence. The first sounds of crickets filled the evening, stirring with the distant sound of engines and construction vehicles.

  Jake felt sure he was right about pride, but not about Liz. He didn’t want to care about Annie’s hints. But it was true. He didn’t understand women. He knew the Lord and the land. Not women. He sighed. “Alright, tell me what you think about Ms. Trammell.”