The Babel Tower

by J. B. Simmons

  “The latest reports say she isn’t taking meetings. Apparently she’s holed up in there.”

  “I’m still going. She’ll know I tried.”

  Rachel remembered Jax’s visit, and what he’d said to her about Jake: Convince him to sell his land, to get away from her. That clearly wasn’t happening. She wondered if Jax was part of the problem for Liz—a constant reminder of her past and her ambition. “When you go to the tower,” Rachel said, “I think you should meet Liz’s friend, Jax. He’ll know the most about how she’s doing. But I’ll warn you, he loves her.”

  “I can’t blame him.”

  Rachel eyed the lights of the tower in the distance. Despite all her disagreements with Liz, she cared so much about her. She didn’t want her to be hurt. So she decided to equip Jake with more background about Liz, telling him about her father’s death and how she’d responded by ignoring the pain and putting every ounce of effort into starting this company with Jax. She explained that Jax had tied the Babel code to Liz, and how he couldn’t stand that she was so interested in a farmer.

  Jake listened intently to every word. “You’re right,” he said. “I should meet this Jax Wong.”

  55

  Jake took one glance back at his land and turned down the two-lane road. He stayed on the left curb, walking at a steady pace. The sun was low on the horizon, the sky clear, and the air unusually warm—like the perfect stillness before a storm. He’d reach the tower before the spring day bloomed in full.

  His mom had insisted he drive the old pickup truck. Jake had refused. A little exercise and fresh air would clear his mind this morning, and so it did. He saw the tower clearly as he approached. Its high lines made him tilt his head back even from this distance. The building seemed to have no end, especially with the cranes still hoisting beams and raising the top, higher and higher.

  But never reaching a destination, Jake thought. Maybe it would be best for Liz to reach the heavens, so she’d know for certain that wasn’t the way to find God. Maybe then she’d come looking along the earth, and inside herself. Jake’s hope had not wavered after Rachel told him about Liz’s past. He believed she’d come around.

  Walking to her tower might help. She’d find out about it. She’d know then that it was no longer just pride keeping him from selling the land. It was the land that kept them tied together.

  The walk took two hours. Jake drew stares as he strode down the long path to the tower’s base. Parallel lines of newly planted trees ushered him in. The workers he passed wore homogenous grey outfits with rainbow patches on their shoulders. Their faces showed a hundred different nationalities. Jake couldn’t name them, he just knew they were not from around here. But in a way they were the same. Humans were always the same at their core. Beautiful vessels. Broken vessels.

  Jake had expected to reach a door to enter the tower. But the space beneath it was wide open for a hundred feet up. The four immense steel legs of the tower splayed out far beyond the tower’s center. They planted into the earth like roots. In the center of the legs were clear glass shafts. Jake watched a dozen elevators rise and fall, carrying streams of workers in and out. Many of them huddled around this open lobby. Some had set up market stands, selling food and other things.

  Jake made his way through the crowd to one of the lines to the elevators. Ten or so men and women waited in front of him. An elevator rushed down, and its huge glass doors opened. The box was twice his height. He expected to have to wait for the next one. But not only did he fit, ten more people who had lined up behind him fit as well. No one was left waiting.

  He went to a corner of the elevator, ignoring the stares.

  Then, like the snap of a coiled rubber band, the elevator flew up. Jake couldn’t keep the gasp from escaping his lips. He’d never moved so fast, nor so high.

  “First time, eh?” asked a woman beside him.

  He turned to her and nodded. She wore the grey uniform and a bright smile. She reminded him of Annie.

  A man standing next to the woman laughed and said something Jake couldn’t understand. He didn’t even recognize the language, or the man’s nationality. Somewhere in Asia, he guessed.

  The woman smiled at the man. “I remember, too. Feels like a roller coaster.” She glanced at Jake’s overalls. “What brings you here?”

  “I have a meeting.”

  The man beside the woman said something, this time to Jake.

  Jake just stared back, not understanding. The elevator soared higher into the building, now lit by lights on solid walls rather than the sun through the glass. Not much bothered Jake, but he began to feel trapped.

  The man’s brow furrowed. He spoke again, more emphatically.

  “Forget your Babel?” the woman asked.

  “Don’t have one.”

  Their eyes opened wide. The man spoke first. He sounded confused.

  “I know,” the woman said to him. She turned to Jake. “Look, it’s not our job to question you, but security is strict here. If you don’t have a badge, much less a Babel, I doubt they’re going to let you in.”

  Jake nodded, but didn’t respond.

  The elevator stopped and everyone inside began streaming out. The woman paused. “Well, nice meeting you.”

  Jake followed the group out and entered the biggest room he’d ever seen. It seemed the size of a football field, with ceilings almost as high as the floor was wide. The elevators were in the center. More continued up from there, and more went down.

  Jake spotted a desk nearby with people sitting behind it. He approached a woman there and introduced himself.

  “Welcome to the Babel Tower.” She motioned to an area with trees and benches behind her. “If you’ll take a seat there, Mr. Wong should be down any moment.”

  Jake moved to where she’d pointed, mesmerized by the trees. They were palms planted in giant troughs. The tops rose high in the air, catching the sun that poured through the tower’s glass walls. He passed the benches to one of the walls. His breath froze when he looked out. The ground seemed miles below them. The people down there were like ants.

  He looked up, expecting to see the tower’s top. But he didn’t. The steeply sloped wall of glass rose at least as far above as it stretched down.

  He turned toward the tower’s east wall, hoping to catch a glimpse of his farm. But a voice stopped him.

  “Jake?” A short man rushed up to him and shook his hand. “I’m Jax Wong. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise.”

  Jax led Jake to an elevator without a line. He pressed his thumb to a panel beside it, and the doors opened. They rode up and up, nearly as far as before, Jake guessed.

  When they stepped out, Jake felt like the floor rocked beneath his feet. He stared down, not sure what was happening.

  “It’s the sway,” Jax said. “Up here, near the top, the tower can sway a bit with the wind. But I assure you, it’s very stable. Engineering’s greatest feat, in fact.”

  Jake followed him down a short hall to a large office with window walls. Jake thought he saw a hint of mountains over the curve of the horizon.

  “The Rockies,” Jax said. “Hard to believe, right?” He motioned to a chair in front of the desk. “Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink or eat?”

  “No, thank you. I came to talk about Liz.”

  “Straight to business.” Jax sat in the oversized chair on the other side of the table. He leaned forward on his elbows and met Jake’s eyes evenly. “Rachel told me most of it. You’re not the first person to fall for Liz, you know.”

  Jake considered disagreeing with Jax’s wording, but there wasn’t much point to it. Fall for her…or called to be with her. Both got at the same truth. Jake simply shrugged. “I know.”

  “And she’s never fallen for anyone.”

  “Yet.”

  Jax grinned. “I must admit, you’re not like most of the men who have fallen for her.”

  “Rachel told me I should speak with you.”


  “I can tell you what others have tried. That way you’ll know what to avoid.”

  Something in the little man’s voice caught Jake’s attention. “What did you try?” he asked.

  Jax leaned back, hands behind his head. “So I see rumors have traveled.” He laughed, defensive. “Like I said, most men love Liz one way or another. She has that effect.”

  “Do you think you’d be happy if she loved you back?”

  The question wiped away the smile on Jax’s face, as if he just realized he was facing an equal. “Of course. Happier, at least.”

  “Why? Just because you’d have her?”

  “Yes.”

  “I figured you were smarter than that.”

  “Bold words, Jake. It’s been a while since someone questioned my intelligence.”

  “You can’t solve a person like an equation.”

  “And you’ll never get Liz.”

  “You know better than that.” Jake felt a tilting in the air, like a tilting of his lance in a joust. “If you really love her, wouldn’t you value her happiness more than your own?”

  Jax stood from his chair and moved to the window. His hands clasped behind his back. He spoke softly. “Liz said you were different.”

  “And now she wants something different.”

  “Even if she does, don’t get your hopes up. She’s spent, what, ten hours with you?”

  “Time does not limit God’s plans.” Jake stood, and Jax leaned back from the larger man. Jake kept his voice gentle. “I came because I want to help.”

  “You just want my help with Liz.”

  “Part of her is wrapped up in you,” Jake said. “The two of you have been on this quest together, right?”

  Jax’s brow lifted in surprise. “Interesting theory.”

  “I bet she’s loved you all along, you just won’t let yourself see it.”

  “I wish you were right.”

  “The two of you have been partners for years. Most people today don’t understand love. They think it only finds fulfillment in the body. But it’s purest in the mind and soul.”

  Jax sighed and rubbed his eyes, as if thinking. “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to love Liz. Really love her.”

  Jax breathed out, weary. “I always have.”

  Jake put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Then give her what’s best for her.”

  “And what exactly do you think that is?”

  “Stop hiding things from her. Tell her the truth. Then bless her leaving. She’s stuck in between us now—between what we represent. It’s hurting her.” Jake paused. “Maybe like it’s hurting you.”

  Jax didn’t respond. He shrugged off Jake’s hand and walked back to the window. He stared at the blue sky. He thought of the forecasted thunderstorm. He thought of the chaos inside him, roiling and rejecting and yet relishing the prospect of freedom. He’d made Liz sign the pact so long ago, to have him alone as the one who understood the link of her DNA to Babel’s data and its code. He’d believed, he’d known, that in time the proximity would make her love him. But it had become a weight on them both. And now he’d been hiding things from her—about Hunter Black and the information he’d given the government.

  When he finally turned and met the farmer’s eyes, Jax felt confident about what to do but terrified about what it might mean. “Liz is tired,” he said. “She’s worn herself down, especially with this tower and the IPO. She won’t listen to anyone. She’s cooped up alone at the top of the tower.”

  “You can still do something,” Jake said. “You have to do something if you love her.”

  “I’ll consider it.”

  Jake nodded. “I’m praying you will do whatever it takes.”

  56

  Liz’s ears popped as she climbed the stairs, past the elevators’ highest reach. The pressure built with each step up. The air was thinner here, and her breathing was fast and shallow.

  By the fourth flight of stairs, she sympathized with the Everest climbers. But she forced herself to press onward. Her legs began to feel the burn of anaerobic effort. Her calves tensed, her thighs screamed out. She ignored the pain. She relished the pain. She took another step.

  Reg Trammell’s designs had defied the world’s limits, and she had his blood, his genes. She imagined him walking beside her now. No, not beside her. He’d be in front of her, setting the pace and grinning back at her.

  Daddy would demand the best out of himself. He would not accept any weakness. He didn’t have to expect anything out of his daughter. She saw the way he pushed himself, and that was enough. That had always been enough.

  Liz pushed herself harder, taking the stairs two at a time, her chest tightening with the effort. Her head spun at the lack of oxygen.

  She took the stairs three at a time.

  And then she reached the top. This high in the tower, the floor was only twenty feet wide, a concrete platform with brand new glass walls. In the center was a ladder going even higher.

  Liz looked down at her bare feet as she stepped forward, enjoying the feel of virgin concrete under her toes. They’d finished the pinnacle’s facade only yesterday. She kept her eyes down as she approached the ladder. She didn’t want to spoil the first impression of a view sweeping over the world.

  Trying to catch her breath, she pulled the carabiner out of her pocket—Jax had insisted—and snapped it to the hook on the pole holding the ladder.

  She climbed a few steps and pressed her hands up against the porthole above her. It had a pressurized seal, like a door in a submarine. She spun the lock to open it. She heard the POP as the seal released. She spun it three more times around and pushed up. Her arms strained against the weight and she felt like a sewer-dweller emerging from a manhole.

  The air blasted inside like an arctic gust.

  She pressed her eyes closed and took another deep breath. The cold air burned her lungs, but she felt more alive than she’d ever been. She’d given up daily control of Babel, sold the company to the public, and built this tower. She’d done everything she’d planned. She was free.

  She reached for the next rung of the ladder, and another. The wind whipped violently at her as she climbed. Her hair snapped over her face, her black shirt hugged her back tight and flapped like a loose sail in front of her. Her body shivered at the cold and the exhilaration.

  She forced herself onward, climbing ever up. She’d made it maybe twenty feet before she stopped again. Her body refused to make another move. She squeezed her eyes, readying to open them. Ready to face the past, ready to face her inner demons, ready to face anything.

  This is for you, Daddy.

  Only the wind answered.

  I know you’re with me. But like you, I am my own, and I have made this reality.

  Her eyes opened. Her knuckles were pale white, clenching the smooth steel ladder. Beyond that was the greatest emptiness she’d ever seen. The earth was so small below that it lost its color and form. It was just a blank canvas.

  Tears filled her eyes. They blew away in the wind. She imagined them flipping and falling thousands of feet down until they landed like innocent, salty raindrops.

  Just the wind, she lied to herself. It wasn’t that she felt foolish for crying or for expecting something more. It wasn’t that her father was nowhere to be seen or heard. It wasn’t that her soul felt emptier and less satisfied than ever before. She clung to the ladder and cried.

  LIZ.

  Her sobs froze in her throat. She looked around her. Of course no one was there. She looked up into the thin atmosphere.

  Then she remembered her Babel. Maybe it was malfunctioning under this pressure. She pulled it off and examined the silicon chip. It was this little chip that had built the tower. And now it was talking to her?

  PRIDE LEADS TO DESTRUCTION. I GIVE GRACE TO THE HUMBLE.

  Liz heard the voice from outside herself, but it resonated deep within. She thought of her father, standing atop one of his buildings the
moment before he jumped. Had he heard voices? Had he lost it?

  GRACE TO THE HUMBLE.

  The wind wailed and the words filled her with wonder—a sense of immense, incomprehensible size, as if she and the tower were zero against infinity. As hard as she’d strived to reach this place, it was still bound by space and time. She was finite, but this voice was not.

  Part of her feared and despaired this sudden sense of her own smallness, but she thought of someone who had accepted this, who seemed to know what was enough. She thought of Jake. She remembered their first meeting. She remembered his quiet confidence. She remembered working beside him to dig out a tree stump—work that would vanish after they were dead, just like this tower would in time. The difference between them was not their work, it was his comfort with his own place. It was his humility. She yearned for that peace, that joy, that faith. She yearned for him.

  She had to get back.

  The wind blasted her body, knocking her hands loose. Only the steel hook kept her from falling. As she grappled for the ladder, the wind screamed into her ears and into her mind. Had to be the altitude. The cold. The adrenalin. She glanced at the Babel in her hand, then threw it down. She unhooked the rope so she could begin climbing down. Unsteady. Woozy.

  She forced herself to focus. Tried to grip the ladder harder. The wind was picking up. Storm clouds were approaching. She had to get down. One foot at a time.

  Step. Another step.

  She was five rungs from the roof when a gust slammed into her. Her foot slipped and she fell off the ladder. Something in her ankle popped. Her body whipped down, head thudding against concrete.

  Her eyes were closed, her consciousness gone. But the rope still held.

  She had made it to the top. There she lay, alone.

  57

  Jake walked back home from the tower, down the line of its shadow. As the sun fell, the shadow lengthened. He felt like he’d never reach the end of it. But he didn’t have to, because all at once the shadow was gone, swallowed.