The Babel Tower

by J. B. Simmons

  “Look, I told you about Dubai. I think Katarina tipped off the prince. Not sure why. And I told you about her meeting with Dylan. Here’s one more thing I learned. She’s been disconnecting her Babel device every Friday around the same time.”

  “When?”

  “6 am. Every week for two years, no exceptions.”

  “Okay, that’s weird…” Liz went quiet.

  Owen held out the Babel to Liz. “I think she’s hiding something. Why not at least check out her data? See what you learn?”

  As a company executive, Owen could see basic data, like when Babels were on or off. But he couldn’t access the words spoken. Only Liz could. She’d managed to avoid the data center for almost a year. “You’ve discussed this with Jax?”

  “Yes, we’re both keeping an eye on her, and on Dylan. Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s good, and I think you’re the target.”

  “When did you become a conspiracy theorist?”

  “This tower is only putting you more in the spotlight.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “I don’t doubt that, but why not use the tools you have? Check the data and see what you find.”

  Liz agreed to do it soon, and then she left. Owen sat alone in the basilica for a little longer, his sense of dread rising. He felt like he was being watched, that they all were.

  34

  “Hey Rach.”

  “Hey Liz.”

  “I know…it’s been a while. You doing well?”

  “Yeah, we’re good.”

  “And the kids?”

  “They’re great. Full of life. We had a big milestone this week: Tyler pooped in the potty.”

  Liz laughed. “Congrats, I guess?”

  “Yeah, it’s a big deal. For us, anyway… I’ve seen your show.”

  “How do you like it?”

  “Not bad, but you already know what I think about the tower.”

  “That’s not why I called. Owen told me Jake Conrad is your cousin.”

  “Yes. He’s a good guy. I haven’t seen him in years.”

  “He’s quite a character. And not bad looking. But he lives near my tower and won’t sell his land.”

  “Not surprising. He’s one of the most thoughtful and faithful men I know.”

  “What could change his mind?”

  The line went quiet.

  “You know him, Rach. What do you think he wants?”

  “Not much. He’s always been content where he is… You sure you’re not just trying to prove that you can get whatever you want?”

  “You know it’s not that simple.”

  “Maybe it is. Why not spend more time on the farm with him? It might do you some good.”

  “I did. I helped him dig out a dead tree stump. I actually kind of enjoyed it.”

  “I guess that’s a start…”

  There was a long pause. “You know, I’m sorry about what happened when you were in San Francisco.”

  “Thanks. I’m sorry, too, about what I said about your dad.”

  “It’s okay. You weren’t all wrong. I found his design, along with some old letters and a family Bible. I’ll admit now I’m building the tower for him. At least, that’s one main reason.”

  “It’s quite a memorial.”

  “It’s not just about the past. It’s for the future, too.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about. I’m praying for you.”

  “Thanks… Well, good talking to you.”

  “You too, Liz. Take care.”

  35

  The security guard’s hand rested on his gun as Liz rolled the window down. “Step out of the car.”

  Liz opened the door and stepped out. “I don’t remember seeing you before,” she said. “What’s your name?”

  “Mike.” The guard held up a small scanner. “Glasses off.”

  Liz pulled off her shades. The sun was blazing, making her head throb after last night’s dinner and drinks, courting investors. She was growing tired of Bay area billionaires. Two hours east and now she was in the land of scorched earth desert. It was warm even on this January day. Not the best place for keeping the servers cool, but Babel had to keep the data safe and no one stumbled by this facility by accident. She’d still be glad when it was closer to her, in the tower.

  The guard kept the device steady in front of her eyes. It was as thin as a pencil, and looked about as threatening. But the guard’s hard stare made Liz feel like he was ready to blow her head off.

  “Any other visitors today?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer. It was quiet except for a steady mechanical hum from the warehouses on the other side of the fence. A green light flashed on the guard’s wand.

  “Stay there,” he said. “Hands above your head.”

  Liz raised her arms in the air while the guard stepped into a small gatehouse. She pushed away slight annoyance. It was good that they stuck to protocol, even with her. She stretched her arms and gazed up at the fence. Twelve feet high and barbed wire at the top. She hated to be the cause of more barbed wire in the world, but it served its purpose. This data had to be kept secure. No one was getting in without a struggle, and the cameras every twenty feet would detect anyone who tried.

  The guard walked out a different man. He was smiling shyly. “Ms. Trammell?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry, I had no idea. I’ve called the boss. She’ll be here any moment.”

  “You’re doing a fine job, Mike. How long have you worked with us?”

  “Two months. It beats the prison where I used to work.”

  “Easier keeping people out than keeping them in?”

  He laughed. “Got that right.”

  The gate began to swing open. A roofless Humvee pulled up on the other side. A woman stepped out, dressed in fatigues. She had short-cropped gray hair and a thick build.

  “Ms. Trammell, we’re delighted to have you.”

  “It’s good to see you, Alice.”

  “You want to access the servers?”

  “I need to visit the vault.”

  Alice nodded, all business. She glanced to Liz’s car. “Keys?”

  Liz handed them over, and Alice tossed them to the guard. “Park it close, Hunter. Keep an eye on it. No one else enters as long as Ms. Trammell is here. Understood?”

  “Roger that.”

  As Alice escorted Liz to the Humvee, she reported on the latest activity at Babel’s data center. No security incidents. Four new hires. A better camera system installed around the perimeter.

  The wide gravel road passed through a half dozen low warehouses. Each one was huge, the size of a football field, and separated by just as much space. Giant water tanks loomed beside each one.

  They pulled up outside the smallest building at the center, a concrete shed the size of a bathroom. “We’ve never had a breach, or even an attempt here.”

  “Good,” Liz said. “And the preparations for moving?”

  “We’re on track, but…”

  “Go on.”

  “With respect, Ms. Trammell, it won’t be as safe there.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You can’t control access the way we can here. No one just happens to pass this place. We’re in the middle of nowhere. Costs are low. Security is high. There’s a reason the government puts its most important data out here instead of in Washington, DC.”

  Liz smiled. “Nebraska isn’t Washington.”

  “From what I hear, your tower won’t be Nebraska.”

  “Touche!” Liz clasped Alice’s shoulder. The woman was built like a tank. “I need you to make sure this data stays safe. I want you to come to the tower.”

  Alice hesitated. She didn’t look away, but she didn’t answer.

  “What’ll it take, Alice? You have family, roots here? Is it about the pay?”

  “No. I’m from nowhere. After I left the service, I just wanted quiet. The desert gives me that.”

  “You can have quiet at the tower, I pr
omise.”

  Alice nodded, but her face gave away nothing.

  “You’ve proven yourself,” Liz said. “No need to decide now. But think about it. Tell me what you need, and I’ll make it happen. I want you to come, Alice. You’re a critical part of what Babel does.”

  “Thanks, Ms. Trammel.”

  Liz smiled. She started to say, Call me Liz, but she guessed Alice wouldn’t like that. She was used to order and hierarchy. Liz almost felt jealous of that. “Time to head in,” she said. “You’ll wait here?”

  “Of course. We’ve locked down the perimeter.”

  “Thanks. It may be a while.”

  Liz turned and pressed her hand to the panel beside the metal door.

  “Welcome, Ms. Trammel,” said a voice. “Place your eyes in front of the green light.”

  Liz leaned toward the panel and the green light. A faint light scanned her face. The door slid open. She stepped in, and it shut behind her. It was completely dark as the floor began to lower under Liz’s feet.

  36

  Liz’s stomach dropped as she descended in the elevator. She closed her eyes and counted to calm herself.

  One. Two. Three. Four…

  Twelve. The elevator stopped. Two hundred feet underground.

  Metallic sliding gave way to light. Liz opened her eyes. The concrete room looked simple. It was not much bigger than her office in San Francisco. A table stood in the middle of the room. Thick cables ran along the floor and fed into the sole computer. The cables ran down from the server rooms above. No wireless access. No other way to see the data. No other person could enter.

  A cabinet to the side held some bottles of water and dried food—the one concession to Liz’s mild claustrophobia in this place. That way she could survive a little while if the door or the elevator jammed.

  Or so she’d always thought. But what if she died? She usually refused to consider the possibility. Now, with the tower rising, she felt more afraid of death than she had in years. She had to finish for her dad. And if she was suddenly gone, the board had the authority to change the security and access this room…and the data.

  Liz shook away the thought, sat at the desk, and slipped off her shoes. She tapped the keyboard to wake up the computer. The screen flicked from black to white.

  Words appeared on the screen: Welcome, Liz.

  An outline of her hand’s shape was below the words. Liz pressed her hand to it.

  “Success,” said a voice from the computer. “What is your favorite color?”

  “That’s a stupid question.”

  “Who do you love the most?”

  “Myself.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “To discover the meaning of life.”

  “Access granted.”

  The last question made Liz smile. She hadn’t been here in so long. Her answer had almost changed. She was here to find out if somebody was betraying her. But maybe that related to discovering the meaning of life. Everything did, one way or another.

  In the text box on the screen, Liz typed “Katarina Popova.”

  Thousands of individuals with the same name appeared. Liz thought of different ways to narrow it down. One seemed obvious.

  “Employee of Babel,” she said.

  Only one hit. Liz selected it and scanned the typical data feed from the Babel device. Thousands of words every day. Katarina averaged 113,423 words heard, and 24,943 words said. Both well above the world’s average.

  Liz pulled up the graphic display. Katarina’s words were evenly spread over each day, seven days a week. She worked the same hours that Liz did. 8 am to midnight, or later. It was a job requirement.

  But as Liz looked closer, one thing was odd, as Owen had said: almost every Friday, around 6 am, there were a few words, followed by silence for the next hour. Katarina’s device stayed in her condo building over the whole time. Liz figured maybe she got up early and had some quiet time. She didn’t think Katarina was a religious type. Maybe it was meditation, yoga or something.

  Liz picked one of the days from last week. She read the transcript of the early morning words, just before the device was left behind.

  Morning, Charles.

  Good morning, Ms. Popova. The path is clear. A nice day for yoga.

  Thank you. Here’s the unit.

  Your shake will be ready when you’re done. Banana-kale today.

  What would I do without you?

  Oh, I don’t know, banana-strawberry?

  [Laughter.] Be back soon.

  Enjoy, Ms. Popova.

  Then came an hour of complete silence. The Babel device did not move an inch over that time, but it stayed on, detecting nothing.

  Liz guessed that this Charles person held the device for Katarina, maybe put it in a drawer or another quiet place. It meant Katarina was violating company policy. Never turn off the device, and never take it off. Not even for yoga.

  Liz eyed Charles’s words again: The path is clear.

  What did that mean?

  She started reviewing the data from Katarina’s feed every Friday around 6 am. It was the same every time, except that the smoothie flavor changed.

  She did a few spot checks of Katarina’s data at unusual times. Occasional conversations in the middle of the night were with customers in Asia. It was all normal business and hard work. She ran searches through the data for dozens of keywords—like Russia, spy, and data. She read through pages and pages of conversations but came across nothing suspicious.

  She stood from the computer. She walked to the food cabinet at the far end of the room. The concrete was like a glacier under her bare feet. She grabbed a bottle of water and downed half of it. Then she remembered there was no toilet down here.

  As she moved back to the desk, she thought about Katarina. The woman was a genius in her own way. She was an operator, a control freak, a master of details. But could she really be a spy, a Russian agent? It was possible, but Katarina had been a godsend. She’d been Liz’s best employee from the start. She’d never let Liz down. It would take more than a regular morning with her Babel off to make Liz doubt her. She might as well just ask Katarina about it.

  Then Liz remembered what Owen had said about Katarina and Dylan meeting. She decided to pull up Dylan’s data. It was clear he’d been meeting with Katarina, and they’d both turned off their devices when they talked. Only their first meeting—just before Liz started with the tower—had any words recorded. The conversation was:

  Liz told me what you said, when you met with her.

  And?

  You told her to stay with the company and use the Babel data.

  Liz shook her head, thinking back. She’d never told Katarina that Dylan had suggested using the Babel data. Katarina had lied to him.

  The conversation went on, with Katarina telling Dylan she agreed that it was a waste to keep the data locked up.

  Then the recording had stopped.

  Not good. Why would Katarina talk about accessing the data with Dylan? And why hadn’t he mentioned it to her?

  Liz checked the prince of Dubai next, but no single device could be tied to him. Finding any of his conversations would be like finding a needle in a global haystack.

  She quickly scanned a few others—Jax, Owen, Rachel, even her own. She ran searches and used the system’s algorithm to spot anything unusual. But it was mostly ordinary talk. Rachel rarely used her device, and when she did it was with her French-speaking au pair. Jax and Owen had turned off their devices a few times, but that wasn’t too strange. Even Liz turned hers off every now and then. Company policy aside, everyone deserved a few minutes of complete privacy once in a while.

  She stood up and stepped back from the computer, feeling dirty. It still felt wrong, like a voyeur looking through a peephole, to eavesdrop on others’ conversations. What people said had to stay private. That’s why she’d vowed from the beginning to keep this data safe. That’s why she hated to make exceptions for herself.

  The guilty
feeling made her think of Jake, the man who’d never wear a Babel and showed nothing but indifference about it. She almost envied him, or at least the carefree life he lived on his farm. She knew there would be no data from him, but what if someone else with a Babel had talked to him?

  She sat down again. She found the exact coordinates of his farm, which was easy to find just a few miles from her tower. She then ran a search across the entire database for any mentions of “Jacob Conrad” within 200 miles. The search began combing through the millions of recorded conversations just within that area and the few years of Babel’s existence.

  There was one hit. From just weeks ago.

  The system showed the location as a bank called Farmer’s Trust, in the closest town to Jake’s home. She played the conversation.

  Hey, I’m Chuck Frazer. The guy had a friendly voice.

  Jacob Conrad. Nice to meet you.

  Likewise, Mr. Conrad. What can we do for you today?

  I’m…interested in a loan. He sounded uncomfortable, almost nervous.

  Sure, have you worked with us before?

  My grandfather has.

  Okay, let me just check the system. There was a long pause. Isaiah Conrad?

  That’s him.

  He took out a loan, with a farmhouse as collateral, about thirty years ago. Are you looking to do something similar?

  No collateral, Jake said, his voice firm. It’s to help my sister, Annie, with college.

  Oh, well that’s easier with collateral, Mr. Conrad. But there are other special loans for education.

  Okay, tell me about the options.

  The banker gave a long explanation about all the loans, and then asked, So which one sounds good?

  They’re…expensive. She still has another year, and she’s smart. Maybe she’ll get a scholarship. I’ll think about it.

  Just come by when you’re ready, Mr. Conrad. We’re always here for you at Farmer’s Trust.

  The two said their goodbyes, and that was the last mention of “Jacob Conrad” in Babel’s records.

  Liz leaned back and smiled. Jake had made a trip to the bank just for his sister. She hadn’t expected him to support her going to college, or to admit that he needed money. It was kind of touching.