It was evening. The migrant horde had dispersed eagerly to various inns, taverns, and hostelries, there to pump the locals for information on the new city, its amazing Tower, and all the latest Nimrod-related gossip. In turn, the locals were busy pumping the newcomers for coin and barter items. Ori was shocked at the inflated prices they were charging for food and lodging.

'If these people don't find their own shelter soon, they won't be able to afford to start their own businesses as they planned,' Ori commented to Prajapati.

That may be part of Nimrod's scheme. If they're out of money and trade goods, they'll be willing to join the Tower work gangs for low wages – or even to sell themselves into slavery. It was a sobering thought.

'I'd like to get inside that Tower and take a look for you,' said Ori. 'But I think they're closed to visitors after dark.'

That's good! I don't want you inside that thing yet. First, we have a lot to talk about.

So Ori waited on a bench in the 'park' – a pitiful sandbox with two sad-looking potted figs – until the city had settled down for the night. By midnight, there was nothing to hear except snoring from house and hovel, punctuated by the occasional howl of a dog, snarl of a cat, or exclamation of a night watchman as he stubbed his toe on a random bit of irregular paving.

When it was clear that nobody else was around, Ori sprouted wings and took off.

The view of Mesopotamia was, as usual, uninspiring. Under the canopy of stars spread the winding rivers to the east. Here, beneath Ori's gliding wings, was a wide, level stretch of scrubland, now dotted (Ori had good night vision) with prowling nocturnals: wolves and small-but-deadly cats, hopping rabbits, browsing deer, and other creatures looking for food away from the hot sun.

The Tower ranging out of this desert made Ori distinctly uneasy. It didn't fit, somehow. Even at night with no one clambering about on it, the giant conical structure seemed menacing. Ori ignored the anxious feelings and used the air currents generated by the building itself for lift. Reaching a considerable height, Ori began to trace lazy circles in the sky above the city. It had been a while – Ori was enjoying the exercise.

We need to talk, came the soothing voice in Ori's head. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to make a difficult decision.

'I'm listening.'

Do you somewhere to sit while we discuss this? I'd rather you didn't sit on…that. But it might take a while.

'Oh, no, I'm fine flying. It's relaxing. Also, this building has great thermal updrafts.'

Okay. Now, you have questions. I would.

Ori circled the Tower thoughtfully. 'All right. Why did you say oh, heck when you saw the Tower of Babel? It's ugly, sure, but what's alarming about it?'

Prajapati sounded unhappy. It has to do with sacred geometry.

'Sacred geometry?' (More like scared geometry, Ori thought.)

Sacred geometry involves proportions and shapes that affect spacetime. Look…what makes humans different from other animals?

Ori laughed. 'Where do I begin? They make messes. Instead of following their species programming, they run all over the place. They have plans. They have agendas. Worst of all, they lie. To each other, for cheap advantages. Worse, they lie to themselves. They make up crazy stories about 'this means that' and 'I'm doing this for a good purpose' when what they really mean is, 'I did it because I wanted to and now I'm making up a good excuse.' They're wearisome.'

Prajapati laughed, a sad laugh. All of this is true. But have you ever heard them say they're made in the image of the gods?

'Absolutely. I thought they were bragging. Or else trying to blame somebody else for when they mess up.'

Like blaming a certain red-headed snake for the debacle in the noospheric garden?

'Yeah. Like that.' Ori was still cross about that garden.

You're partly right. But that isn't all of it. Humans are made in my image, in a sense. I seem to have set them on an evolutionary quest for sentience…it was part of the design, the pattern…

'Like the scared geometry?'

Sacred. But yes. The short version of what this means is that humans can generate spacetime. They're supposed to be helping us fill in The Building and stabilise the structure. But…

Ori stopped circling and hovered over the hideous Tower. 'But instead of helping, they're hindering.'

Exactly.

'Instead of doing constructive things, they fight among themselves. Each one wants to be the cleverest. Or the richest. Or the prettiest. Or the most talented. They're always trying to be popular.'

That's true. This warps the spacetime out of shape. The geometry's all wrong. I try to fix it from my end, but I can't. Especially… Ori detected a hesitation, as if Prajapati was afraid of saying too much.

'Especially…? Come on, I won't tell them. Promise.'

Especially because they…won't talk to me!

'You mean they could? And they won't?'

Yes, my friend, that's what I do mean. I try. I talk at them all the time, just as I talk to you. I call to them in their sleep. I shout when they wake up. When they're happy I try to sneak in a word of congratulation. No response. Happiness is all for them, you see.

When they're sad or in trouble, sometimes they'll yell for me. But once I've helped them they go back to ignoring me totally. I try to contact them and it's crickets.

Some of them, like those priest friends of yours…

'Not exactly friends. More acquaintances I copy tablets for.'

I wasn't blaming you. Those priests will pretend they talk to me. But they're just making it up.

Ori was agitated, and showed it by flying some more. 'That must be incredibly frustrating.'

Oh, it is. Especially since, if we worked together, we could fix a lot of this. Or at least get the players out before the whole spacetime crashes and burns. Which is what this one is going to do in short order if we don't intervene.

'Seriously? There's going to be trouble down there?' Ori surveyed the sleeping town.

Trouble? You don't know the half of it. Famine, violence, ecological disaster. You name it. We need to intervene, you and I.

'What can I do? I'm ready.'

Bless your heart, I know you are. But there are consequences to this one. Worse than being turned into a snake.

'Yes, but…if there's violence and famine and an ecological disaster, Enlil and Zimah and the kids won't be safe. Whatever it is, we've got to do it.'

Prajapati sighed. You're right. Even if the whole world turns inside out and upside down, it has to be done. They won't like it, and you may not enjoy all of it. But, Ori, we've got a world to save.

You'd better find someplace to land. I need to send you a major upgrade and it might interfere with your navigation.

Ori understood not a word of that other than 'find someplace to land,' but settled with a flutter of wings on a brush-covered knoll to the west. A furtive bunny, startled by the arrival of the biggest bird it had ever seen, hopped rapidly away. Ori sat quietly and waited for the 'upgrade.'

It was a long one. Ori sat as if in a trance until the first streaks of dawn in the east announced the arrival of a new day in Babel. Then the puzzled angel headed for town and, hopefully, a cold drink.

Ori had the mother of all headaches.

Dmitri Gheorgheni