Lovers of Babel (17 page)

             
I took the poster and brought it back home for further inspection. I understand that I am inquisitive to a fault. Unlike other carefree and youthful 22-year-olds, nothing is ever enough for me until I understand the entire purpose of it. This new project of mine was no different. Once I brought the poster home with me, I knew that I would become obsessed with finding this book.  The idea of there being some book containing wisdom that
I
had never read, made me that much more intent on finding this book.

So, I immediately started my research on The Book of Wisdom. I
used various electronic archives to search for the contents of the book. I found countless articles and books written on the ancient text. I realized upon my research that the book went sort of extinct before the apocalypse, but certain groups of people were still devoted to the contents of the ancient text. In my research I stumbled upon an intranet site for the Universal Archives of the Underground. This was the place where all of the historical relics of the old world are stored. This is where I hope I can find that strange book. The archives are located in Underground Vatican City. I plan to travel there by lightning rail in a few months after I finish my thesis.

May 2134.
Vatican City
. – I arrived just in time to see the historical papal parade that took place in the Vatican every year. The parade was a commemoration meant to honor the archdiocese of Rome and the papal system that was in place prior to the apocalypse. There were thousands of people crowding around the replica of St. Peter’s Square where the famous obelisk stood tall amongst a blanket of rich red and purple. I don’t particularly like crowds, but I was so fascinated by the celebration that I wanted to take it all in. The UV lights were out and brighter than ever creating a realistic sunny day. People were dressed in all sorts of Roman Catholic garb. There were African popes wearing sunglasses and pushing strollers, women wearing priests’ robes, toddlers dressed as cardinals and nuns hiking up their robes to let the air in.

The
day was meant to commemorate the history of Roman Catholicism because once the world went Underground, so did religion. It isn’t useful for a Utilitarian society to practice any religion. The inheritors of the new world find it barbaric to cling to faith when they had escaped certain death with no help from the gods. There isn’t any room for individual religious freedoms when everyone is forced to live, quite literally, under the same roof. It is simpler to do away with controversy so that society can come together under one purpose. In the Underground that purpose is the system.

I
sat down on a bench overlooking St. Peter’s Square and realized that although people were forced to give up their faith, they were not willing to forfeit their right to remember it.  This realization bothered me and chilled my soul. I love the idea of one world, one faith and despise those that neglect their obligations to the system. Seeing these people dancing and singing old Psalms of praise in the streets made me cringe.

A dark man dressed as the pope in an ivory robe and hat lined with gold embroidery sat down next to
me.

             
“This is the time of year that I look forward to the most. I traveled here all the way from where Barbados used to be and each year it has been worth the trip,” he said.

             
I tried my hardest to ignore him.

             
“I wore this in remembrance of the papacy. In the old age kings and leaders from all over the world recognized the Pope as supreme leader. It was an honor to be in his presence. I grew up Catholic, but now it seems to be a distant memory.  I’m sure you’re much too young to know what I’m talking about. Just know that no matter what, people always need hope. For me, this is hope.”

             
I sighed and looked at the man trying to hold back my condescension.

             
“I am young and have not been exposed to any religion. I think this is for the better. Seeing these people adorn themselves in ridiculous costumes is amusing to watch I must say. I’ve read many books on the ones you call Pope and the only thing that I can admire them for is their ability to brainwash an entire civilization into believing that they are gods. Now,
that
is something to celebrate, don’t you think?” I asked with a smirk.

             
The man raised from his seat.

             
“My God you are cruel! If I didn’t follow the old book I would let you have it!” he reprimanded.

             
“What book are you referring to?”

             
The man was preparing to walk away.

             
“I’m sure if you ever laid hands on it you’d burst into flames,” he replied.

             
“It isn’t the Book of Wisdom you speak of, is it?” I asked.

             
“
You
know of it?”

             
“Yes and I’m looking for it. Tell me, would it be here in Vatican City?”

             
“There is only one book left in the entire Underground and it isn’t here, but even if it was
you
would be the last person to get any wisdom from it.”

             
“Why is that?” I probed.

             
“Because
you,
my friend, are a heathen!”

             
A heathen?
I’ve never heard of a heathen and although it was clear to me that the man was upset, I wasn’t fazed by his insult. This conversation only sparked my curiosity even more. I left my bench and headed toward the Universal Archives in search for The Book of Wisdom.

             
This book may be the source of inspiration that I need to take my career to the next level. Watching that man get so passionate about a simple book was shocking to me. Although the book had been obsolete for many years, people will still defend it.

             
The archives were located near the replica of the Sistine Chapel where the Pope resided in the old world. Along the side of the chapel was a building built with the same architectural design as the rest of the churches in Rome, only its presence was not historically accurate. The Universal Archives of the Underground was built in the old world for the purpose of keeping history alive. Most of the documents and artifacts were replicas of the original, because the creators of the Underground had to keep their work a secret from the rest of the world. Museum curators and art collectors would’ve had a field day if their collections went missing. So, the history keepers of the Underground devoted their lives to accurately replicating important pieces of history to be stored underground. I was in awe of the richness and vastness of the city. For a second I wished I could explore more of the Vatican, but I had an important mission to complete.

             
I walked through the giant wooden doors into what looked like a cathedral. There was a mural painted on the entire ceiling that looked like the famous Renaissance paintings of Michelangelo and Botticelli, but only it was not a replica of anything historical. The painting was vintage Renaissance in technique and included a picture of a vast earth colored in pastels with hundreds of people circling it who looked like Grecian gods and goddesses adorned in togas reaching out to the earth as God did in Michelangelo’s
The Creation of Adam
in the Sistine Chapel.

             
I began to walk while looking up at the marvelous artistic ingenuity of the mural.  

             
“Beautiful isn’t it?”

A woman with olive skin and a black dress with a name tag that read “
Frita” approached me.

             
“Yes. Is this a replica?” I asked.

             
“No. This is a mural painted by Charlie Blake, one of the most talented artists from the old age. He was asked by the last Pope to paint this mural for the Underground. It caused a lot of controversy, because this was the first time that a commoner would have access to the Underground before the apocalypse. The creators of the Underground felt that this would compromise the secrecy of their work, but the Pope insisted. It took Blake a month to finish the mural and a week after he finished he died in a car wreck,” she explained.

             
“Well, there’s something for the conspiracy theorists.”

             
“Yes, only it didn’t get much attention in the old world, because this was top secret and they wanted to keep it that way. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

             
I fell silent, thinking.

             
“Let me know if I can help you find something. This place is massive,” Frita said.

             
“Actually, I’m looking for a book.”

             
“Aren’t we all? Well, there aren’t many in existence so this should be an easy task. What’s the name of your book?”

             
“The Book of Wisdom.”

             
The woman looked surprised.

             
“The Book of Wisdom hasn’t been found since the old age. It is said that all the copies got destroyed in the fire and only one survived. Unfortunately, we don’t have it here.”

             
“Do you know where I can find it or at least read some of its contents?”

             
Frita appeared to be reluctant to answer. After a moment’s pause she began to look around suspiciously then walked closer to me. In a quieted tone she instructed me.

             
“The archives are down that hall to your left. You will walk down five flights of stairs until you reach a silver corridor. That corridor will take you to the west wing archives where there are computers with various archival programs stored on them. You’ll want to use a program called,
Atlas Life
to find information on the book. You’ll be able to read different articles and texts about the Book of Wisdom. I doubt you’ll be able to find the actual book, but you can look up plenty of information about its contents.”

             
I thanked her for her help.

             
“I haven’t heard anyone speak of the Book of Wisdom since my grandmother died five years ago. She talked of how reading it gave her hope and courage. When she was on her death bed I read to her parts of the book that she had wrote in her journal, until she drifted peacefully into death. I have since lost the journal that she used to write in, but I committed to memory a sentence from the book,” she said.

             
“What is it?”

             
“’I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.’”

             
I was appalled and asked her who would say such a thing.

             
She said she didn’t know.

              I took off towards the left hall with a new sense of urgency that hastened my steps. It was as if I was in a race to find this book before anyone else could. However, I couldn’t help feeling that this urgency was unwarranted. It had been decades since society had recognized the Book of Wisdom as a source of hope and understanding. Even before the apocalypse most people in the old world lost the desire to live by the book like they did in the former age. They had resolved to get their wisdom from within themselves. It became taboo to read the book in public and so the Book of Wisdom was printed less. Even still, there were some who held the book to high esteem, but they were few and far in between. Those who went Underground had their hope stowed away safely under the protection of the earth’s surface and had no need for the book. So, along with the rest of earth’s inhabitants, the books were destroyed and no one noticed.

No one cares
enough to so much as think about this mysterious book, but I still feel that it was vital that I find it before anyone else has a chance.

             
As I descended the stairs I noticed the faint shimmer of silver from the corridor that Frita had mentioned. One thing Frita didn’t mention, however, was how hard it was to breath down there. The archives were sacred and stored very important artifacts. Even though everything was replicated, the curators of the archives wanted to keep them in immaculate shape. The oxygen and temperature were lowered in order to preserve the newness of the artifacts. The deeper I got into the basement, the harder it was to catch my breath. Once I got to the silver hallway I felt like I had ran a marathon. I leaned my body on the wall to rest for a while. It took me ten minutes to stop panting. My breaths were still short once I continued to walk, but as long as I remained calm and relaxed I could breathe fairly easily.

             
I looked down the silver corridor and saw no light at the end of the tunnel. There was nothing but silver for yards. The fluorescent lights illuminated the hallway giving it a sterile feel. I started my arduous trek towards the archives as quickly as I could without making my heart rate rise. It felt like I had been walking for hours once I finally reached the door to the west wing archives.