Look on my works, ye mighty
Babel falls, then gets back up again
It was finished.
It had taken decades, and cost several fortunes, but now, after all these years, it was finally finished.
The great architect Arkhimedes smiled joyfully, tears streaming down his wrinkled old cheeks, as he stared up and up and up at his completed masterpiece, a massive tower rising so high into the sky clouds parted around its peak. The sun gleamed off the polished metals and stones making up the rising walls of the edifice, great friezes and frescoes and mosaics depicting all the various races of mortalkind performing great feats of heroism and valor; but where other works of art might depict such beings fighting wars or slaying great beasts, the heroes immortalized on the walls of the tower were performing more mundane but no less monumental tasks.
There were merchants, craftsman, scholars, teachers, doctors, laborers, architects, sailors, mages, researchers, and other such famous figures who had gone down in the annals of history for making a great discovery or innovation or altering the course of creation itself in some way or another simply by doing their jobs. They were heroes who had changed the world not because they were chosen ones or legendary warriors or anything like that, but because they were regular folk who had risen up when the occasion called for it and done something truly incredible, without any great destiny or prophecy or divine intervention guaranteeing their success.
No kingdom or nation or priesthood had commissioned the construction of this tower. In fact, more than a few had tried their best to dissuade Arkhimedes from completing it, certain that the structure would be an affront to the twin empresses who presided over all creation, and that they would visit horrific punishment upon him for his hubris.
Arkhimedes didn't see it that way. He had nothing but respect for Their Divinities. After all, were it not for them, then the universe and everything in it would not exist. Even so, he had set out to build his tower, deliberately bankrolling it himself when necessary, not to glorify the goddesses or any of the lesser deities but as a tribute to all of mortalkind, a reminder of their skill and potential, of the things they could do by themselves when given the chance, without aid from the heavens.
Still smiling, Arkhimedes turned to face the weary but proud faces of his workers gathered around him, who had sacrificed so much to help him achieve his dream and complete this, his greatest work. "My friends,” he declared, noting with some sadness that his voice was no longer as rich or vibrant as it used to be. He truly did not have much time left. He had no regrets though, for he believed his had been a life well spent. "My friends," he repeated."We have done it. At long last, the tower is complete. I know that many of you may have had doubts that we would ever finish it-“
Several cries of protest came up from the crowd. He ignored them. "And we have had so many setbacks, either accidental or from deliberate sabotage, that there were times when even I wondered if this was all for nothing. But no matter what, we persevered, and kept at it, and finally, we accomplished our goal."
He spread his arms, both to encompass the workers and the tower behind him. "And make no mistake, this was truly our goal. While the tower may have been my dream, you are the ones who stuck with me through the worst of it, despite the assassination attempts, occasional food shortages, sickness, riots, inclement weather, a rising death toll, and that one time a roc got blinded by the light reflecting off one of the windows and crashed into the tower, setting us back several years. My, that was a memorable experience…” There were a few chuckles from the crowd at that, as they looked back with fondness at what at the time had been a traumatic experience.
"But despite everything, we kept going, and now, at long last, the tower is complete! Our tower, for it is yours as much as, if not far more, than mine!” Arkhimedes smiled fondly at the workers. "Because it was for you, and others like you, that I knew this tower had to be built. A monument, a tribute to ordinary folk, mortals who don't change the world by going off on some grand quest to save the day, people who weren’t chosen by the gods or fate, but to those who altered the course of history through their own hard work and two hands. This tower, the second largest building in all creation and the largest created by mortals, will stand until the end of time as a constant reminder of what mortals are capable of! Of our true potential, and the amazing feats we can accomplish on our own! Proof that we need not always rely on the gods to succeed, but that we can prevail through our own merits, and leave an enduring mark on history that can never be-"
Arkhimedes was cut off when, without warning, a colossal sphere of crystal and metal dropped out of the sky right on top of the tower, smashing it flat as the earth trembled and a huge cloud of dust and dirt was flung up, briefly blotting out the sun before drifting back to the ground.
As the dust settled, the massive sphere, completely undamaged by its descent from the heavens and subsequent impact, glittered brilliantly in the sun as it sat nestled in the new crater it had formed for itself. Spitting out dirt, Arkhimedes clawed his weight out from beneath the upturned earth he been buried under, blinking blearily up at the giant orb sitting where his tower used to be. “What? What?! WHAT?!”
"Whoops! Sorry!"
Dazed and no doubt sporting a concussion as well as several cracked bones and bruised ribs, Arkhimedes rubbed the remaining dirt from his eyes and swiveled his head around to spot the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen standing nearby, an apologetic look on her gorgeous face. Her voluptuous purple form, its proportions beyond that of any mortal body, was poured into sparkling sheer purple and black robes that looked as if they were cut from the fabric of deep space, which covered her entire body but at the same time seemed to leave nothing to the imagination. Massive wings glittering with what appeared to be constellations spread from her back, the many dark feathers somehow not ruffling in the breeze. Her hair, a lustrous dark purple with a light magenta stripe, flowed down to the ground, glittering with stardust. Her features, perfect beyond all possible comprehension, were screwed up in an expression of guilt, a look of infinite compassion and wisdom in her radiant purple eyes. Arkhimedes immediately felt as if he were lower than dirt in comparison to her, and somehow thought that even if he were at his prime and not covered in detritus, he would still be just as insignificant to this ravishing vision of loveliness who far outshone all the other great beauties he had encountered in his long life.
"What… Who are…" The old architect stammered.
"Is that that… is that Her Divinity, Twilight Sparkle?!” One of the workers, who had manage to dig himself out of the debris and had been trying to help the others, cried in horror.
Arkhimedes’ heart sank into his intestines as the ragged and dazed workers clumsily groveled before the deity. Frantic, he threw himself to the ground before her feet, which he couldn't help noting were magnificently manicured and without blemish or flaw. “Your Divinity, whatever trespass we have committed to visit your wrath upon us, please, I beg you, spare my employees! The tower was my idea and mine alone, so the responsibility for it falls upon my shoulders! Please, these men still have families and lives ahead of them, while mine is already nearing its end! They should not have to suffer for following an old fool! If I had known you were displeased with my work, I would have-"
“What?! No, no!" Twilight interrupted, startled."You did nothing wrong! This, ah, this one's actually on me.”
Arkhimedes blinked and, cautiously, glanced up at her. "I beg your pardon?”
Twilight laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of her head."You see, one of the stars burnt out, so I went to replace it, but I dropped it by mistake and it fell on top of your tower. Sorry about that. Here, let me get that out of the way."
She gestured, and the giant sphere (which, he noticed, contained inner workings so unfathomably complex his mind nearly drove itself mad from a single glance) suddenly shot back into the air, vanishing with a twinkle into the deep blue sky. Twilight frowned at the crater it had left behind, clearly displeased by all the pieces of broken masonry and pulverized building material littering the bottom."No, no, that won't do at all. Don't worry, I'll have this fixed in a jiffy."
“Wait-“ the confused Arkhimedes stammered in confusion (later, he would blame his probable concussion for his impertinence), but it was too late.
One moment, there was a giant crater. The next, the tower was standing before them, piercing the heavens as it had before, looking as if it hadn’t just been crushed by a falling star a minute ago.
As Arkhimedes and the workers gawked in disbelief, Twilight smiled proudly. "There! All better!"
"My… My tower…” Arkhimedes stammered, stunned and wondering if perhaps that concussion weren’t worse than he had imagined.
"Don't worry, I fixed it up as good as new, exactly like you left it," Twilight promised. She hesitated for a moment."Well… maybe not EXACTLY like you left it. I noticed a few design flaws that you missed while building the thing, and I decided it could stand to be reinforced a little so that nothing like this ever happened to it again. Not that it'll ever get hit by a falling star again, of course! At least, I hope it won’t…er, anyway, now the tower is so sturdy that it should last until the end of the world. Which isn't going to happen anytime soon, just to be clear."
“I…that’s…” Arkhimedes gibbered, eyes glazing over.
"Oh, you have a concussion! Don't worry, I can fix that too," Twilight assured him, tapping him on the head.
Immediately, he felt much better. In fact, he felt better than he had in several decades. His sinuses were clearer, his hearing was no longer deafened by age, his vision was no longer clouded by cataracts and failing eyesight, and all the other pains in his body he’d picked up over the last several years (and from the last few minutes) had vanished completely. As he struggled to process this, Twilight explained, "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of tweaking your body a little bit to make up for the trouble I caused. You and everyone else here should live for another century or two. Also, I cured your prostate cancer."
“I have prostate cancer?” Arkhimedes mumbled, so overwhelmed that was the only thing he could even think to react to.
"Not anymore!" Twilight said cheerfully. "Anyway, no need to thank me, it was my pleasure to help. Now, if you don't mind, I should really get back to replacing that star. I'll just let you get back to your celebration. Congratulations on finishing the tower, by the way! Sunny and I have been observing your progress for quite some time. You all did very well! You should be proud of yourselves, I don't think any mortal has done anything like this without help from us before...The last minute or so notwithstanding. Good job!”
Flashing the stunned architect a thumbs-up, she disappeared.
For a long while, Arkhimedes and his laborers stared at the spot where the omnipotent goddess had just been standing. Then, as one, they all stared back up at the tower they had spent most of their lives working on. A tower constructed to honor the achievements of all mortalkind, to celebrate their true potential and all that they could accomplish solely on their own merit and skill.
A tower that had been completely destroyed in an instant and restored just as quickly by the whim of a goddess.
Arkhimedes fell to his knees—which no longer creaked or ached–– and wept.
While carefully installing the new star, Twilight glanced down for a moment—making sure not to drop anything this time–– and saw Arkhimedes crying. “Awwww, he's so happy he’s shedding tears of joy! You did a good thing today, Twilight!”
She frowned."Note to self: don't refer to myself in the third person, it's weird."
