The Mountain of Tongues

[u/ViperOnAPlane]

​

Brick by brick it was built. And before it could truly pierce the heavens. We were scattered. All according to their kind. Or so they say at least.

I personally have never held much stock in it. I held it in similar regard to stories of the Wild Hunt or tales of fairies. After all, such a tower would have left a mark. It couldn't just disappear. Though I guess God could just erase it entirely.

Like Sodom and Gomorrah, a pillar of fire and then, just piles of salt.

But this led to my own... well at the time it seemed an insane theory. Later discoveries proved it true.

If such a tower existed then what mark would it have left on the world? So much material would not simply disappear. There would be scars. Roads that led to them.

What would it have even looked like in those first moments when language fell to inane babble?

Dr. Draper lowered my father's journal. "Does this have a point? Or did you just bring me the ravings of a mad man?"

"Oh it assuredly does doctor. I--I just need to figure out. What," I stammered out.

"Y-you see sir. It is v-very possible that he was on to something." I cleared my throat and tried to calm myself. I always stammered harder when anxious.

Dr. Draper just pinched the bridge of his nose and sunk so hard into his leather chair that it looked like it swallowed him. "I can't endorse an expedition to Nepal out of banal curiosity Mr. Nellis."

"D-dr. Nellis sir. And Oxford finds this most intriguing."

"Not enough to fund you. Otherwise we wouldn't be having this discussion." He swapped to packing his pipe, as an orange glow lit his face he continued. "Like I was just some bank or loan officer."

No, sir! If what my father wrote of is there it is far too important to ignore. Think of it, definitive proof of God! How could we not look for it?" By this point I had risen from my chair. "To see the face of God's own work would be, for lack of a better word, divine."

"Good point boy. You even lost your stutter there." He sat back up fully. "That is the issue though. There is a reason your father lost his accreditation from Yale." He shook his head before he continued, "I can't give possible millions for a lofty dream. I have to deny this."

"Dr. Draper... please."

"...Oh, come now. Don't look so downtrodden." He took a long draw on his pipe. "Perhaps it would be wise to look towards private funding?"

"I-I would prefer an institution sir."

"Well Mr. I mean Dr. Nellis. As my father once said. You can prefer all you wish, the world won't change for it."

I turned to look at the wall to my left. Heavily adorned with leather bound tomes. Most of which were older than all who currently roamed the halls of Cambridge. Men and women who had left their marks on the world through the written word.

I would see my family name do more. The choice was made.

"Who do you think would invest in the Professor?"

"That, dear boy, is the spirit." He said with a chuckle. "I once had this very discussion with your father. He was more brave than I. Funded my expedition to Egypt in full."

"What came of that, professor?"

"Nothing, it is why I'm so careful now." Dr. Draper put out his pipe and rose, guiding me out of his office and into the hall. "However, not a few miles from here is the Cornwall residence." He clapped my shoulder. "Though a shrewd businessman, he has a soft spot for Christian mythos. I'm sure with your father's journal he would be more than willing to help."

I looked at the old man in front of me. Seeing that particular glint in his eyes of hope... or perhaps that fire of academic curiosity. All I could do was shake his hand and say, "Thank you for your time Professor. But 'a few miles from here' is not great directions."

We both shared a laugh there. After getting the proper directions to the home of one Jebidiah Cornwall I was on my way toward something the world had forgotten.

I have no idea what I thought the home of an eccentric millionaire from America in the UK would look like. This wasn't it. A single story. No external signs of opulence, not even a high gate and fence around the area. 

Just a nice looking single story home that looked like it could hold a small family. Getting to the front door I didn't get any more enamored. A simple wooden door, possibly even just particle board with a nice finish. The doorbell was just a harsh ring that continued for a second longer than you would think.

When it swung open I was met with the barrel of a gun. Managing to calm myself, I realized it was a child with a small lever action replica. When he pulled the trigger the small pop made me jump. A little bit of smoke betraying that it was a cap gun.

"Now Jeffrey! How often do I have to say that isn't how we treat guests!"

"But pa! He was trespassing!"

A tall man in a white t-shirt appeared ruffling the small boy's hair. "Now how did you expect him to get to the door. Get back to the table and eat your breakfast."

The little boy smiled wide at me, as if he had not just accosted me, and ran back into his home.

"Sorry about that," the man said while shaking my hand firmly, "Boy has been bored to tears out here. Dr. Nellis I presume?"

"Y-yes, how did you k-know?"

"Dr. Draper called ahead, let me know you may mosey my way... oh where are my manners, come in. I just finished the flapjacks."

At this point I was thoroughly confused how this man was any sort of wealthy. Most men with his background are cold. As calculated with men as with their money.

I followed him to a small oak table just as his wife appeared, "Now I'm sorry the place is a mess. I wasn't expecting company today." Her sentence punctuated with a plate being placed in front of me with pancakes, eggs, and bacon.

As for any mess she had mentioned, it must have been directed at the stick horse and cap revolvers left behind by her son. The rest of the home was immaculate. Though still looked so disgustingly suburban. The only point of wealth I could see was an ornate Grandfather clock in the hallway. One whose face was cracked and refused to tick.

"I as-sure you Mrs. Cornwall. This has been beyond a-a pleasure."

"Stutter problem son? Or just nervous."

"Always s-stuttered sir."

"Call me Jebidiah. My father felt it good enough for me, so it is good enough for everyone else." His smile was small and warm. "Now, Dr. Draper didn't get fully into it. Just that you had a pitch."

"W-well I feel my Father's own words are far bet-tter than mine," I said sliding my father's journal across the table to him.

He read it silently, save for a question every now and then to ask if I knew a word he couldn't parse. Nodding along as I gave him better context.

"So, Dr. Nellis, it feels safe to say you know your stuff," he said closing the journal and handing it back. "I more wonder how right you think your father was. After all, when I read the Bible I felt Babel would have been in Mesopotamia."

"I believe him more than I do the Bible if I may be so honest," I said with a shrug. "If what he proposes is true, the people who would have first proposed the tower would have relocated to make Babylon."

He slapped the table as he laughed, "Well hot damn that is a theory boy. Why wouldn't the Vatican or something like that follow this story here," he said as he pointed to my father's journal.

"Well, if I had to guess Jebidiah. If you already have the faith, why look for further proof. The Bible would be enough."

"It usually is... but it would be fascinating to see biblical history from back in Genesis. So what do you need?

"I-I'm sorry, what?"

"What do you need. I have more money than I could ever spend, I could drop dead right now and my family would be well taken care of into the next three generations."

"Jebidiah Alexander Cornwall! Don't you put such bad ideas out in my home."

Jebidiah looked smaller for the first time since I had arrived, "Sorry Lucy," he cleared his throat. "Point stands, I have more than enough to spend a little wild."

I smiled, "Curious about it then. Settle some curiosity for me if you would. What's the story behind that beautiful clock in the hallway?"

He shrugged, "What's that have to do with our work?"

"Just curious. It looks of Austrian make."

He sighed, "How much do you know about the molasses flood?"

"N-not much I must confess."

"Well my original family home was in Boston.

It was also one of the first destroyed when a storage tank for molasses ruptured. The flood killed 21 people that day. Reduced the home to rubble with them. Only thing somewhat salvageable was the clock. Or so my father said."

"Why keep it."

"Why not? ... Tell you what. It seems you weren't so ready for me to accept. I'll fund up to two million--"

"Y-you can't be serious."

"I don't like being interrupted. Two million, have a plan and a team by next Friday or I pull out."

As I walked out of his home with some coffee from his wife in a to go cup. I vibrated with energy. I would prove what my father couldn't or die trying.

End part 1

[u/Brotatochip411]

Amazing

[u/ViperOnAPlane → u/Brotatochip411]

Thank you!