Chapter 18b
Yorkshire Dales
A man came over and sat with
them. “Roslin,”
he said, “You’re looking for Newton.”
It appeared that they were
privileged to meet a local town character.
He was paunchy and bandy legged with thinning hair, a red nose and a missing
tooth. There is something pleasant about
a person who lives with no regrets, and it seemed that at the very least this
man would never have reason to regret that he had not drunk more in his life. The stranger continued in a whisper, after a
suspicious glance around. It was
incongruous. If he was afraid of being
overheard, he could not possibly know he was not talking to the very people he
was trying to keep the secret from.
“Predicted the end of the
world, he did. Isaac Newton was the last magician. He foretold it all. And it’s going to happen.”
“Really,” said Jon as he tried to think of a way out of this.
“Yes. It’s written in The Book. They’re going to thrown us all in a big wine
press – you know what a wine press is? – and mash
us. He pressed one palm upon the
other. “And the blood. The blood’s going to be everywhere.”
“‘And the winepress was
trodden without the city, and blood came out of the winepress, even unto the
horse bridles, by the space of a thousand and six hundred furlongs,’” quoted Hapgood.
“Well you see?” said the
stranger. He seemed pleased that he was
having an impact.
“How many people is that, Jon?” Tracy asked.
“Well a furlong is six
hundred sixty feet. How high is a
bridle, Ivan.”
“Lying on the ground or hanging
from a hook?”
“On the
horse.”
“How big a
horse? And is he lying down or reared up on his hind
legs?”
“He’s standing in a deep
puddle.”
“Well if he’s in a puddle, by
the time it gets over his back he’s swimming.
It will never get up to his bridle.”
“Right,” said Jon. “Five feet. So we’ll take it that the blood is five feet deep
right next the winepress and it goes out for a radius of six hundred sixty
times sixteen hundred feet. So the area
of the puddle is pi r squared or about three point five trillion square
feet. Multiply that by five for the
height and divide by three for the volume of a cone and you wind up with two
point three trillion cubic feet.
“But the profile won’t be a
neat triangle. It will be deepest and
steepest at the center and at the edges it will be nearly level, so we ought to
divide by about four for about eight hundred billion cubic feet.
“A person probably carries a
gallon of blood, but with an inefficient process like a wine press you aren’t
going to recover more than about a pint, or say thirty two cubic inches. A cubic foot is seventeen twenty eight cubic inches, divided by thirty two gives you fifty
four people per cubic foot. Eight
hundred billion divided by fifty four is about fourteen billion. I can’t make it less than fourteen billion
any way you try.”
“Four feet,” said Ivan. It’s usually closer to four
feet.”
“All right then,” said Jon. “Ten
billion. And there aren’t that
many people in the world. There never
have been ten billion people.” He turned
to the stranger. “So
not to worry, my friend. There is
no way it can possibly happen. You’re
safe.”
The stranger did not look
very pleased. He seemed to think he was
being mocked, but he was not sure how.
He left them.
Tracy whispered, “Of course there will be close to ten
billion in another sixty years.”
The bubble popped.
While the four were deciding
that they would angle back toward the south and west and thus return to the
line as they continued to work on the last message, Ali was visiting ancient Syracuse, the city of the Greek diaspora
which had been taken by the Romans only after a bitterly contested siege. The man who had given them such fits was the
genius Archimedes. He had
devised some sort of cannon to spew fire on the Roman ships and a huge grappling mechanism to catch them beneath the walls,
rending apart the fragile galleys. The
ships had been built of planks set edge to edge and fastened with pegs or
stones between them. They were much
unlike the sturdy later design of keel, ribs and a hull of overlapping planks
that the Vikings had initiated. The
Roman galley had been built almost as if the intention was that it explode spectacularly when the fabric of its hull was
seriously compromised. In the end it was
despairing traitors from within who permitted the Roman victory. Archimedes’ inventions had withstood the test.
The Romans had much looked
forward to gaining in their victory the services of the brilliant man. But he had been killed negligently by an
ignorant and hot headed common soldier. The
soldier had found Archemedes drawing in the
sand. Such was the stupidity, the
pointlessness of war.
Ali was sensitive to the folly, but he did not reflect
upon another famous sand drawing. That
was the one done by Christ when a mob brought a woman to him to be judged. Tradition sometimes identifies her as Mary Magdalene, although scripture does not.
Ali’s guide took him to an ancient quarry. As they
entered the garden-like space Ali learned that
it had once been used as a prison. There
was the entrance of an enormous cave conspicuous against the far wall. The cave had been much enlarged by human
labor. On the other side of the cliff
was the great theater of Syracuse.
“When the Romans built a
theatre,” the guide explained. “It was
usually of big brick vaults stacked on top of each other to give it the basic
shape and support. But this theatre is
hollowed out of natural rock, meaning the vaults were not needed for that. But it appears that they had shops and other
things in the vaults. It was part of the
show experience. So they hollowed out
this cave beneath the theatre itself where they could have their shops anyway.”
“And their brothels,” thought
Ali.
As the two entered, high
above them was a rectangle of bright light.
The enlarged cavern extended far around to the right, following the
curve of the theatre itself.
“That window is the Ear of
Dionysus. It opens onto the back of the
theatre.” said
the guide. “And look here. The door of the cave was natural, but here
they cut away blocks of stone. Even now
you see the rectangles where the rock was removed. They wheeled the blocks away by means of
giant iron wheels with iron axels.”
Later as they were visiting
the theatre itself Ali could see the Ear of Dionysus looking like a pressbox. Ear? It was for
listening. Certainly it was not so the
people in the audience could hear the goings on in the cave. It had to be so the people in the cave could
hear the sound of the audience and know when the play was ending so they could
wind up their business in a timely fashion.
Dionysus was the god of the theatre, but this ear was for
another aspect of the god. There were
things related to the fertility god going on, but whether it was simply the
satisfaction of the desires of the flesh or something to do with the hope that fulfillment
might lead to children, Ali could not decide even as he tread the same stones
and saw the same things as the people he was trying to understand.
Later they visited the altars
of Zeus. There were
ten of them lined up side by side. “They
would give the meat of the sacrifice to the poor,” said the guide. “There were too many poor to feed them from
one altar, so they built all these.”
That sounded encouraging
somehow. At least at one time there
seemed like too many people. But it
proved nothing. The free food dole could
just as well have been a desperate attempt to draw more people in to fill the
withering ranks of the city.
Ali said goodbye to his guide and paused before he left
the ruins. Syracuse now was a busy modern city in its own right. It was only because the ancients had built in
stone at crushing expense that their remains were visible at all, that plus a
few remembered names. How many other
cities with more cost effective architecture might have risen and fallen in the
same place over the millennia he could not guess.
The bones of the dead
civilizations seemed to dwarf even the accomplishments of the present. They were everywhere. Even back home in Yemen, explorers had discovered the remains of enormous
dams and canal systems. Somewhere in the
distant past there had been an irrigation system and a centralized government
that could have stood comparison with ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia. The only
reason the remains could still be seen was that since then the population had
been so sparse and industry and agriculture so rudimentary that the old
constructions had not been effaced.
If the logic of cities lying
in a straight line was good, it would always have been good. The chain of cities he was following also
might have had their rises and falls, always with a new city built on the unrecognized ashes of the old. Always the same place, because the local
advantageous geography would not have changed, and the privileged location
along a line of other cities would still have been stimulating.
He remembered the bad news he
had heard in Malta. Perhaps it is
not a bad thing that Allah strikes down so regularly what he permits to
grow. People are capable of such
evil.
There have been 5,726
visitors counted so far.
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