Now the whole earth had one language and few words. And as men migrated from the east, they found a plain in
    the land of Shinar and settled there. ... Then they said, "Come, let us build ourselves a city, and a tower with its top
    in the  heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves ..." - Genesis 11.

    The Patrician was in a good mood.  The plans for the tower were moving forward apace.  He had a meeting with the architects scheduled for tomorrow to discuss blueprints and another with the Human Resources people the day after to discuss labor strategies.
    "Hey, look at this, Josh!" said the Patrician, spreading out the plan he had roughed out.
    "Joshua, sir," said Joshua.
    "Right, Josh.  Here, look at this.  The shopping mall will be on the first level.  Movie theaters over here.  Distillery over there."
    "Distillery, sir?"
    "Yeah, beer, Josh, beer.  I'm going to call it 'Shinar Beer.'  God is going to be so jealous!"
    "Uh, sir?"
    "Yes?"
    "I've been your lackey ... er, assistant ... for ten years now, and you were always just 'the Boss.'  What the heck does 'Patrician' mean?"
    "Well, when you're about to take over the top spot from God, you can't just have people call you 'Boss.'  You need a flashier title.  Know what I mean?"

    Construction had begun when Joshua poked his head into the Patrician's tent.
    "Ahmed the Digger to see you, sir," said Joshua.
    "Who the heck are you?" asked the Patrician
    "I represent all the miserable wretches you have digging that great big hole for the foundation of your building," said Ahmed.
    "Represent?" asked the Patrician. "What does that mean?  Why aren't you working?"
    "We've been working nonstop for weeks now," said Ahmed. "We just want to have a day off every week.  You know, like God did when he created the world."
    "Well, he must not have known how to maximize production, then!" snapped the Patrician.
    "All we want is one day of rest each week," persisted Ahmed. "Is that so much to ask?"
    "Off?" asked the Patrician. "What does that mean?  I don't know what you're talking about!  Get back to work!"

    Not long after Ahmed's visit, the Patrician had another guest.
    "This is Isaac from the Foundation Layers Union," said Joshua.
    "Union?  What's a union?"
    "We all got together to bargain for better working conditions," explained Isaac.
    "Bargain? What does that mean?"  The Patrician's face contorted with the effort to understand.
    "It means that you make us work 24 hours a day, seven days a week," said Isaac, "and we make a counter proposal, say, eight hours a day, five days a week.  And we get paid, say, two shekels a week."
    "I understand the 24/7 bit," said the Patrician, "but the rest is gobbledygook.  Get out of here!"

    "I'm sorry to bother you again, sir," said Joshua, "but this gentleman was very insistent.  He says his name is Judah, and he's a ..."
    "Lawyer," finished Judah, brushing by Joshua. "I represent the brickmakers.  They're filing a class action suit against you for withholding wages.  Consider yourself served."  And Judah dumped a thick stack of papyrus into the Patrician's hands.  "See you in court."
    "What was that all about?" inquired the Patrician.
    Joshua shrugged.

    The project lay in ruins.  Signs of construction lay strewn about the plain.  There was a great big hole in the ground, piles of dirt and rock, some partially erected walls, but not a single finished building.
    "I don't understand," sighed the Patrician. "Where did we go wrong?"
    "Overworking the workers?" suggested Joshua.
    "It was such a perfect plan.  We were going to ascend to the heavens, be like God ..."
    "Not paying the workers?"
    "Oh, I get it!" Understanding dawned on the Patrician's face.
    "Yeah, you have to give people some time off sometimes," said Joshua.
    "It was God's way of stopping us!"
    "Come again?"
    "Sure," said the Patrician. "Don't you see?  Remember all those gibbering idiots who came to see me?  I couldn't understand a word they were saying!"
    "Um, I understood them."
     "God made them speak different languages to thwart me!  Because he was afraid of me!  Quick!  Write that down!  Future generations need to know!"