by Zygmunt Nowak Solinski
A Voice
Hamid. Look outwards. Here you will not reach Heaven. How many generations have built this place? Always upwards. Seeking. I will show you beyond these clouds. Look. What do you see? There is no beginning. No end. Look to those horizons. That is where you must go. It can all be yours and for generations to come. This can all be yours.
The mountains and oceans I reveal to you. The distances are great. There you will find your place. Go. Take the people.
Hamid turned to his son and pointed down.
We must leave.
His son shook his head and said.
I do not understand, then turned to the others assembled behind and below.
I do not understand
Then to his three sisters and said I do not understand. They turned to each other. I do not understand. Thousands began to speak in a babel of different tongues. The tower was filled with noise. No one could understand his neighbour. And so they began to make their way down, taking all their necessities, their animals, that they needed for their long voyage, their long trek.
Hamid turned at the bottom of the enormous tower. It had taken days to descend. The noise the people made was immense.
Hamid. Look upon your work. A work of folly. I am not up there. I am here. Everywhere your people go.
Look.
And the tower of so many years’ work began to crumble till there was nothing but dust.
His people dispersed and filled the world given to them until they were able to build another tower many, many generations later. A tower much higher to the stars.