“Welcome, logicians! Artists! Puzzlers!” The six members of the Puzzle Box Club stared at the gentleman on the raised platform. He was dressed in a decadent, well-tailored suit. His wide smile and shining eyes betrayed his excitement. He addressed them as if he had known them for decades. But they had never seen the man before. They exchanged curious glances, asking silently where Master Enigma was. As their esteemed leader and incumbent Puzzle Master, Enigma had never missed a gathering before, and the invitations for tonight had promised the unveiling of his greatest discovery. “Master Enigma extends his sincerest apologies,” the gentleman continued, as if sensing their perplexity. “I am Terah. The master has entrusted me to present to you tonight’s Mystery Box.” He gestured to the item beside him, which stood six feet high under a velvet sheet. “A most magnificent puzzle.” He continued. “Shipped from a great distance. Almost a living entity in itself. Please welcome…” He lifted the cloth with a great flourish. “The Tower of Babel!” Everyone emitted deep sounds of wonder. The puzzle box glowed white under the spotlight. It appeared to be made of ivory, accented with lines of dark iron. Unequivocally, it was an artistic rendition of the Biblical Babel. It tapered upward from a wide circular base and ended with a bronze crown at its peak. A pathway spiraled in a continuous loop up the tower until it reached the top, just below the crown. A row of windows spiraled upward, carved into the ivory with perfect symmetry. “Magnificent, yes? Please.” Terah moved his arms in a gesture of welcome. “Feel free to approach.” Each member stood and got onto the platform. They circled the curious structure, taking in details not visible from afar: Filigree coated the outside walls, so light and delicate it was nearly invisible. The spiral pathway was paved with dark stone. The dark windows teased the unseen depths of the tower. “You were recruited into the Puzzle Box Club for your analytical, innovative, and brilliant minds. However, it does not take a brilliant mind to know that the Master was forced to part with a substantial portion of his wealth in order to acquire this distinguished piece.” The members milled around the puzzle, discussing the initiating sequence that would provide the first clue to opening the box. “Because of the intricacy of the puzzle, Master Enigma has given you until midnight on Sunday to solve it.” Terah addressed the group. “You are, of course, free to leave and return as you please. I will return in”—he plucked a pocket watch from his suit—“53 hours. By that time, I hope you will have discovered the key to the Tower of Babel. “Marvel, study, explore!” With that, he left. *** Marcus stood well over six feet, towering over everyone as he circled the Tower of Babel, his face glowing before its ivory sheen. Wearing a pair of white gloves, he delicately ran his fingers over the tower. “Feel anything?” Heston asked. “Any seams or notches?” “Nothing significant,” Marcus replied, continuing his inspection. His years as a sculpture conservator meant he was first to lay hands on puzzles sculpted out of stone or wood. “I don’t think this is your typical puzzle box.” “Yes,” agreed Divya. “There must be a reason Master Enigma emphasized its significance. It might not be initiated by touch.” Edwin scoffed. “What else would it be initiated by? Remote control?” He was a wood engineering specialist and had never encountered a puzzle box that had not been opened by touch. “A password?” Felicity suggested, walking closer to the tower. “It’s the Tower of Babel. The birth place—supposedly—of linguistic diversity.” This piqued Divya’s interest. As a linguistics scholar, she was instinctively drawn to lexical puzzles. “That makes sense.” She leaned closer to the tower, examining the filigree. “Jason.” She called to the last member of their group, who had been standing silently against the wall. “Yeah?” he answered, surprised. As a locksmith, his job usually came after the initiation sequence. “Could I borrow your loupe, please?” “Sure,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket to extract a small eyepiece with a gold-rimmed lens. “Be careful.” “Of course,” Divya replied, smiling as she took it. Leaning forward, she held the loupe to her eye and inspected the intricate metalwork on the tower’s exterior. “What do you see?” Edwin asked. Divya took a few moments to study the complicated design before responding bemusedly. “It’s… a language.” “What?” “It’s a language. It’s not ornamentation—there are distinct, observable patterns in the figures. It’s writing.” “Writing…” repeated Felicity. “What language?” Divya peered into the eyepiece again. “I can’t place it.” She sighed, straightening. “I need a blown up image. The symbols contain patterns indicative of language. They’re familiar but too small.” “I’ve got an idea,” said Heston. He left the platform to fetch his bag, returning with a bulky black case from which he extracted a black Canon EOS. “Tell me where to shoot.” “You’re not supposed to have that,” Jason said uneasily. “You know that’s grounds for expulsion.” “What is this, school? That only applies if I’m caught, and the headmaster isn’t here.” He looked meaningfully at each of them. “Unless one of you is a snitch.” “You know none of us would do that,” Felicity stated placatingly. “But out of respect for Master Enigma, it’s an unspoken rule to follow his rules, isn’t it?” Heston shrugged. “Enigma isn’t here. Besides, how else are you gonna get a clear image? We haven’t got all night.” “Right,” interjected Edwin. “We’ve got until Sunday night. I don’t see the point of rushing. Cameras and phones aren’t allowed for a reason.” “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Heston groaned, looking at the others in disbelief. “Even you, Marcus?” “Sorry, Hes,” Marcus said. “You get in here, you follow the rules. Including the NDA.” “Oh please.” Heston said bitterly as he shoved his camera back into his bag. “It’s just some club no one knows about where all we do is sit around trying to open a stupid box.” “Alright.” Felicity patted Heston lightly on the shoulder. “Let’s move on. Any ideas?” “Actually, I’ve got one,” said Marcus. “It’s pretty much what Heston suggested, but without breaking the rules. Sort of a loophole.” “What is it?” asked Divya. “Frottage.” “What?” Marcus went to his bag and retrieved a sheet of parchment paper and a block of charcoal. “A stone rubbing.” “Why didn’t you just call it that?” Edwin asked with a roll of his eyes. Marcus ignored him and continued. “We take a rubbing of the symbols with charcoal, go home, take a photo. You can study it in the comfort of your own home,” he told Divya. She smiled, nodding. “Please.” She gestured to the tower. “You’re the artist.” “Which part do you need?” “Why don’t we try the area near the base?” she said, pointing. “The largest part. I want a big picture.” Marcus bent down and pressed the paper to the surface of the tower, gently rubbing with the charcoal until a rough copy of the symbols appeared on the parchment. He finished and handed the paper to Divya. The others crowded around her to see the markings. “Could it be Hebrew?” Felicity asked. “What were they speaking at Babel before God divided them with different languages?” “You don’t want to get into that,” Divya responded. “Too much debate. I do know that this isn’t Hebrew, though. I’ll need to do some research.” She checked her watch. “It’s still early, but I’d rather have the photo now so I can begin studying it. Heston? I don’t have a scanner at home. Could you please?” Heston nodded, grabbing his bag. “Let’s go outside and get the photo. Then reconvene tomorrow at six?” he asked the rest, who all nodded. With that, the members of the Puzzle Box Club gathered their things and left. *** “It’s Sumerian.” Divya announced excitedly as soon as she entered. Everyone else was already there. “Sumerian.” Jason repeated. “Yes,” Divya replied breathlessly, slamming her belongings onto the floor. She whipped out a black notebook and strode to the Tower of Babel. “It’s the same phrase written over and over.” “What phrase?” Felicity asked, joining her on the platform, followed by the others. “Roughly?” Divya studied her notes. “It’s something like, ‘Life granted by traitor.’” “OK.” said Edwin. “Is that the password? Because the tower isn’t responding.” “Say it in Sumerian,” Felicity told Divya. “I can try,” Divya said dubiously. “There are more guesses than answers when it comes to Sumerian. It’s too ancient.” Divya turned to the tower. Taking a breath, she closed her eyes and made a series of stilted noises that sounded like, “Igi-bala zi-gal.” Immediately, the tower glowed brightly, its light compounded by the spotlight illuminating it. Everyone shut their eyes tight, but they felt the light searing through their eyelids, as if emitting its own warmth. “I can’t see.” Edwin’s voice was strained. “Is it opening?” Before anyone could reply, a sound like a sharp, static whip tore through the air. Startling images ripped through their thoughts, playing like a film strip behind their lids: Jason kneeling before the doors of their homes, picking the locks and stealing small items of value—things that would not be missed. Divya, hunched over a computer as files flew across the screen, containing private data she had harvested from their computers—so easy to hack, and so lucrative to sell. Marcus, sculpting in his studio. Presenting his reproductions as genuine artifacts and selling them to those among them who offered the highest bid. Edwin wrapped between the legs of Heston’s girlfriend, bringing her to climax. Felicity, caught in similar throes of pleasure while Master Enigma bucked powerfully on top of her, in the bed he shared with his wife. Finally, there was Heston, flipping through photos of the club long after dark. Intimate photographs of each of them as they went through their daily lives. Photos of their children and husbands and wives. They watched with awe and rage as Heston handed the photos to Terah and spilled the club’s secrets. “Enigma can’t resist puzzles like that,” he said, pointing to the Tower of Babel, housed then in Terah’s sitting room. “If it’s fancy enough, he’ll shell out any amount.” Terah smiled and handed Heston five stacks of bills, each held together by a golden currency band. Heston put the money in his bag, then dug into his jacket pocket. “Here’s Enigma’s address, like you asked. He’s usually home by nine at night.” “Thank you.” Terah smiled benevolently. “Master Awrdin will be pleased. I have waited so long to bring him what he most desires.” As the images faded, the six members of the Puzzle Box Club were frozen in place, their insides made colder with each revelation, their eyes still struck with the white blindness. When they tried to speak, unfamiliar, alien sounds came out. A deep voice boomed throughout the room, reverberating powerfully. They felt it creep over them, a looming presence. “I am Awrdin, god of survival.” An intense hunger overwhelmed them. Their bodies began to shrivel. Heston whimpered audibly. The others cried out and groaned in pain. “Born from the first evolutionary betrayal, perfidy sustains me as selfishness sustains humanity.” Their skin dried up and clung tightly to their bones. Closed lids stretched over the eyes bulging from their skeletal faces. “You starve and shrivel as I feed and grow fat… from the suet of your treachery.” An invisible force gripped their hearts, jerking with an almighty twist. Screams bloodied their throats, ripping the air with a chorus of agony. Terah emerged from behind puzzle box on the platform. His eyes glinted with excitement. A peaceful smile formed on his lips. Behind him, the windows on Tower of Babel shone with a golden light, as if the edifice itself revelled in triumph.