Review by: A. A.
Album assigned by: Alex Alex
“Well, hi there, unknown reader of this stone tablet! It's a good sign you're reading this, 'cause it means all this cumbersome scribing of mine isn't going to be a total waste. Life's a bitch already without having one's message being lost in total oblivion, what with all the slave labor for this megalomanic construction project and all.
I'm writing this under moonlight of course. I'd be mad to do anything else than lifting stones and laying bricks all day long... Working my posterior off for the whims of the vagarious King of men. Without wages, too. Soon it would be daybreak. Another godless G-R-I-N-D-I-N-G day of drudgery. Oh well.
What construction work, you say? The ziggurat thingie, of course. See, ol' Nebopolassar's always been a crackpot, but this thing is – how do you say? – a whole new level. I know, I know. 'Scuse the horrible pun; lame dark humor just comes with the job description here. Especially since there's no other entertainment to be had after work.
Speaking of which, I could really do with some music. What kind, though?
The other day I managed to have a brief chat with our seeress. About music and future and futuristic forms of capitalistic endeavour. She says she has visions of future instruments sometimes. That our lowly wood and metal instruments would survive, but there will be new, very different monoliths musicians would manipulate to cajole a variety of sounds out from. Even the sounds of those instruments that already exist. What a rip-off. Massive behemoths with more levers and dials than the stairs this tower's going to have. People think she's nuts.
Hey, I'm not asking for a masterpiece of epicness that mirrors the not-so-proverbial blood, sweat and tears of the workers nor the vainglory of tyrannical swellheads. Just a nice background soundtrack with a cool, tense but not quite grim motif repeating now and again that reflects the nature of my humdrum toil. And maybe commiserates with it, in an odd way. A little something that makes your daily work a bit less of a drag. And when it's over, you're just a little bit sturdier to endure the next day of hard manual labor.
A monument to neither the grandeur nor the pathos of the whole frivolous enterprise. Only a synopsis, like this tablet.
Ooops, oughta be off now! I see the warden's approaching…”
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