Shaking his head, Nebuchadnezzar laments, “It’s ever so sad, but these days it seems that the Human Race is sick from being average.”
Is Nebuchadnezzar’s rather uncharitable assessment true? Indeed, many in our time might espouse quite an opposing point of view. “Consider our technological advancements,” I implore the king. “We move mountains with the push of a button, and we create worlds from a base two number system!”
“Perhaps,” allows Nebuchadnezzar, “but we have carpets that fly at our command.”
Which more or less ends that argument.
Arriving at our first destination, we alight from the pulsating fabric at Enki Harbor, which is the gateway to the multiple terraces and interior chambers of the ‘Hanging Gardens’. Along stone walkways and through marble archways we walk until we reach a dolphin pool, where several marine mammals are playing in water so blue it literally defines the color. The area is immense, with flowing fountains, lawns and flowering shrubs, and statuary. From whatever vantage point one might gaze, there is a vista of the city, the Euphrates, and the vast desert beyond.
Within the Hidden Gardens of Amytis, we discover an outdoor wedding chapel with marble pillars and marble pews. A ceramic floor with an intricate floral design is the perfect compliment to the pink, linen-draped canopy. Red carpet runners define the aisles leading from the perimeter to the altar.
Adjacent to the chapel is an outdoor banquet area with seating for three hundred guests. Elegant table settings promise an extravagant wedding party, with foods fit for royalty, and wine so sweet it tastes of nectar. After the wedding meal there will be dancing on a marble dance floor defined by giant vases filled with sprays of roses, lilies and hydrangea, behind which grow blooming jacaranda, wisteria, and citrus trees. Atop towering marble pillars, semi-spherical dishes contain oil, which is set ablaze to light the gardens and dance floor after the sun has set. In the background a waterfall cascades through a canyon that separates two towering mountain peaks.
Behind two twenty-foot high, intricately carved doors, inside a graceful room decorated in subtle shades of green and ochre, is the Nineveh Private Bath. The walls are painted with murals depicting men and women in the act of bathing, and palms and philodendrons and ferns grow in large pots placed throughout the atrium. A chaise lounge upon a stunning Persian rug invites patrons to recline and relax, and a dressing table situated in a sunny alcove is available for grooming after one’s bath. At the center of the large room is the bathing pool, where warm water flows endlessly from clay urns to refresh the pool. Next to the pool is a table filled with soaps and lotions and talc. Polygon Fashions, a shop in the Queen’s Market, offers each bather a free bathrobe.
“The water is quite rejuvenating,” says Nebuchadnezzar. “Would either of you like to bathe before we continue our tour?”
“No, thanks,” I tell the king, but Kiz is quickly out of her clothes and into the pool. Submerging herself in the warm water, she comes up sputtering before wiping the water from her eyes and face.
“I’m just a water baby,” she confesses.
“Stay as long as you like,” Nebuchadnezzar tells her. “Fizzy Oceans and I will wait for you in the garden.”
Through the twenty-foot doors I walk with the King of Samaria. We sit upon a bench overlooking lush gardens in the foreground, the mythical Tower of Babel in the distance. The scene is both provocative and compelling. “Of the Seven Ancient Wonders,” I say to King Nebuchadnezzar, “only the authenticity of these gardens is in question by scholars.”
Nebuchadnezzar looks at me quite dubiously. “Yet, here you sit!” he says to me.
His statement is certainly incontrovertible; still I have many unanswered questions.
“In the cases of the other six—from the Colossus to the Lighthouse at Alexandria—there is either irrefutable documentation, or there are ruins, to authenticate their existence. In the case of these gardens, however, the written accounts are controversial and even somewhat contradictory, thereby casting doubt, or at least confusion, upon the exact location of these famous gardens.”
“Perhaps you forget, my dear girl, that you sit with the builder of the gardens whose authenticity you question.”
“Your reputation surely precedes you, Majesty,” I tell the king. “Yet, in PL, the extensive foundation of the gardens has never been unearthed, and therefore, the precise location never pinpointed. Why is that?”
Nebuchadnezzar shrugs his shoulders. “What’s the difference?” he asks.
I have no answer.
For a time we sit in silent contemplation of these beautiful surroundings. We wait for Kiz to emerge from the bathhouse. Without question, Nebuchadnezzar is at peace in this sublime environment; after all, it is his natural home. I, on the other hand, am nurturing a sense of anticipation—one not easily defined. For me, Babylon is far more than ancient history. And it is more than a replication in Virtual Life, too. Babylon, in history or in VL, is the supreme cultural representation of susceptibility. Its rise to greatness and its inexorable fall into degradation and obscurity mark a pattern that repeats itself again and again, each culture at its rise proclaiming its greatness and its invincibility, and each at its fall amazed and in a state of supreme denial. As it is with the world’s ascendant cultures, so it is too with the world itself! I guess the
writing is on the wall
…
“I am a builder,” says Nebuchadnezzar, “but I am also a warrior!”
“Yes, history documents your dual nature,” I allow.
“And even as we speak here in these glorious gardens, here in Virtual Life, there is a brutal conflict being played out in the
New Babylon
.”
“The New Babylon? I’m afraid I don’t follow you,” I admit.
“Infidels are sacking the city as we speak!”
“What city? What infidels?”
Nebuchadnezzar shakes his head woefully. “Silly girl!” he barks.
“Majesty, I’m really not following you at all,” I humbly apologize.
“It is really quite simple,” says the king. “Click open my profile, then you will understand.”
“Your profile?”
“Yes! Surely you know how to open my VL profile.”
“Of course I do,” I tell him. “But I almost never look at the PL profile of an emulation because, to tell the truth, I don’t see the point.”
“You will see the point when you open mine. Everything you do not understand about the Babylon of the
past
, the Babylon of the
present
, and the Babylon of the
future
, will become crystal clear once you open my profile. So open it now, and answer all your questions.”
With a degree of caution, even trepidation, I click open Nebuchadnezzar’s profile, and here is what I read:
PROFILE: Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon
NAME: Saddam Hussein
GENDER: Male
LOCATION: Baghdad
COUNTRY: Iraq
E-MAIL: [email protected]
HISTORY: Saddam Hussein was born in 1937 in the village of Tikrit, one hundred miles north of Baghdad on the Tigris River. When the Ba’ath Party seized control of the government in 1968, Saddam Hussein became the leader of Iraq.
Saddam Hussein has spent over twenty years—sixty million bricks, and over nine hundred million dollars—rebuilding the City of Babylon as a deliberate strategy to identify himself with the King of ancient Babylonia, Nebuchadnezzar II. Part of his strategy is to vigorously build his Babylonian identity to appeal to the entire Arab world in order to unite all Arabs against Israel and the ‘infidel West’.
As part of his extravagant southern palace, Saddam Hussein has incorporated the remains of King Nebuchadnezzar II’s throne room where the famous ‘handwriting on the wall’ took place in the Old Testament Book of Daniel, 5. This ceremonial room has recently been used for State occasions and various cultural ceremonies. Also in various stages of reconstruction are the Ishtar Gate, the main Processional Way, the Ninmakh Temple and the Ishtar Temple, as well as other Babylonian landmarks.
“But you can’t be Saddam Hussein!” I protest.
“Why not? Somebody has to be sitting behind the computer that operates Neb’s emulation.”
“Saddam Hussein was hanged on December 30, 2006, after being convicted of crimes against humanity by the Iraqi Special Tribunal.”
“Your knowledge of recent PL history is impressive, Fizzy Oceans, but may I remind you that throughout my life, and especially during the time I ruled Iraq, I employed many doubles—look-alikes—not only to ensure my safety, but also to cause a bit of healthy confusion. Now I’m quite certain that the infidels believe they caught the right man—the right
Saddam—
but are you convinced that we did not succeed at leaking faulty intelligence to just the right people, at just the right time, and that the man apprehended in that filthy, stinking hole was not Saddam Hussein at all, but a
doppelganger.
Ha! Indeed, dear Fizzy, here in Virtual Life we know all about imposters, do we not?”
“I do not believe that you are actually Saddam Hussein,” I say, indignant.
“Do you believe that I am Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylonia?”
“Uh…”
“And does it really matter who sits behind the computer to command this fallen king to move as we wish him to move, and to speak as we bid him to speak? Are the events of our history actually defined in time, or are they recorded somewhere else? Perhaps they exist only within the consciousness of man? Or as part of God’s Grand Plan? Does a great leader live but once, or does he reincarnate again and again to guide the events that make up our collective history? In Virtual Life, I am Nebuchadnezzar. This you can plainly see for yourself. You easily accept me as the King of ancient Babylon. In Physical Life, I tell you that I am Saddam Hussein, yet you refuse to believe me because CNN showed you a grainy video tape of a man who looks like Saddam—yes, all agree on that!—standing on the gallows with a noose around his neck and ready to die! What proof is that? What proof indeed when I tell you that I am alive and well? When I tell you that I am here, hiding in the body of my long dead predecessor, Nebuchadnezzar? When I tell you that I am real and fully digitized, Fizzy Oceans, and that I am in
your
computer? Right here! Right now!”
OMG, I think to myself. Wait until Kiz hears about this!
As fast as my little fingers can maneuver, I click the ‘file’ menu and locate the ‘quit’ command. I’m out of here right now, out of Virtual Life right this minute. Kiz will just have to find her way out as well. And I’m sure she will! We’ll meet back at Open Books, or at Dirty Nellie’s Pub. Just get me out of this REP right now. Because Babylon has fallen again, maybe for the umpteenth time. And maybe that’s the point. Actually, I don’t feel all that much safer back in Seattle. Babylon is still Babylon, and forever will be Babylon.
A LOT OF PEOPLE LAUGH at my VL name, but I have to admit that taking the name ‘Fizzy Oceans’ in Virtual Life was
not
a random choice. My commitment to preserving the earth in PL is a real one, and my VL name is meant as provocation (for any and all who still have an aptitude for metaphor) to recognize and address the perils of ecological degradation.
Earth is first and foremost a water planet. Three fifths of its surface is comprised of ocean, and that precious water is getting warmer by the year. Not only is the temperature of the water increasing, but waterlines are rising as well. Cateret Rose knows this all too well; so does Igloo Iceman. Some still maintain that global warming is a naturally occurring event, but they are the ones, as Dr. Conrad Adler pointed out in the Ki Seminar, that have vested interests in continuing the desecration. The more enlightened people know different, scientists and activists such as Dr. James Lovelock and Al Gore.
But let’s face it: you don’t have to be a scientist to see and understand the effects of a Category 5 hurricane; you don’t have to be a mathematician to calculate the depletion of marine life from over fishing and chemical dumping; and you don’t have to be a genius to see the probable outcome of such carelessness. As my dubious friend Nebuchadnezzar so presciently pointed out through historical graffiti, the
writing is on the wall
.
None of this information is new—not by a long shot! We have been told for decades (by the most imminent terrestrial guardians of our time) not only of the perils that we as a race inflict upon our precious habitat, but also what we must do to change our ways and to enable natural repair of the damage already done. Do we listen to those we hold in such high esteem? Do we pay heed to their warnings? Do we make even the simplest adjustments to our personal bad habits? I think we know the answer to those rhetorical questions, and now we are seeing the results of our inflexibility.
Whoosh
!
So Amy Birkenstock does whatever she can to live an ecologically conscious life. It’s hard though, because our entire PL society is based on technological comforts. They have infiltrated and dominate every aspect of our lives, and we have become their slaves. Let the power go out for an hour (these days the blackouts are random, frequent and indiscriminate) and everybody panics. It’s almost as if people believe that the essence of life itself depends upon the uninterrupted operation of the worldwide power grid. Selfish justification is our credo, and we conveniently forget that in NL there was no power grid. Nor was there an environmental crisis…