The Ivory Zoom Tower

The Gentleman pursed his lips as he looked out the window of his ivory tower at the peasants scurrying back and forth in the town square below. He shook his head slowly as the baker nervously stepped out onto the street in front of the bakery. The baker rapidly looked up and down the street as he stood. He was holding a lumpy bag -- presumably full of bread -- in his right hand, and a small shield in his left.

Within a few seconds, the gentleman saw a courier hurrying down the street. He was dressed in full armour except that instead of a sword, the courier carried a second shield. Once he saw the courier, the baker sat the bag down on the street, gave a short wave in the courier’s direction, and bolted back into the bakery, slamming the door behind him.

The courier picked up the bag without stopping and continued on his way, ducking into the first alley he saw.

The gentleman turned away from the window and sank into a chair in the other corner of the tower. His chambers in this ivory tower were luxuriously decorated. Imported Italian paintings in gilded frames tastefully lined the walls. A deep mattress sat on a high bed frame made from hard oak, and a stately wardrobe stood in the corner where his fur surcoats and colorful tunics hung.

Through an arched door frame was a separate, smaller chamber with a large marble desk. The desk sat under a wide window from which the gentleman had a fantastic view of the rest of the city.

It was from this desk that the gentleman did the majority of his business ever since catastrophe had reached the city.

This catastrophe first began several months ago. The people of that city had been under siege from an invisible, deadly enemy. Countless people inside the city walls and from the surrounding area had been struck by arrows.

Nobody knew from where the arrows came. Their archer had never been seen. Even more terrifying, it soon became clear that this invisible threat was spreading. Messengers and travelers from the distant east began sharing horrifying tales of hordes of people falling prey to the invisible enemy. The number of victims ballooned and spread. Soon there were victims in every corner of the land, from east to west and north to south. The amount of death and injury was incalculable.

Stories were told of perfectly healthy people who were suddenly struck down by an arrow. They were chatting with a friend or walking down the street or shopping at the market when the faint woosh of an arrow flying through the air reached their ears. Before the sound was fully recognized, the victim was on the ground with a shaft sticking out of their body.

For some unknowable reason, the archer’s wrath wasn’t felt by people in their homes. The Archer was willing to dispatch arrows toward people inside buildings -- taverns or stores, for instance -- but he seemed not to strike people who were in their homes.

While most of the victims survived, a devastating number succumbed to the arrows. Even those who survived often had long-term scars and took a fortnight to recover. There was a palpable panic amongst the people.

One day, a messenger from the duke’s office had stepped out onto the duke’s terrace on the north end of town. Bugles sounded as the messenger unrolled a long scroll that contained the duke’s seal. In the message, the duke decreed that all non-essential workers must stay in their homes until the invisible threat had been neutralized. Anyone who was able to work from home should do so until further notice. The idea was that if nobody left their homes, the Archer would eventually run out of targets and leave.

At hearing this decree, most of the sensible people obeyed, grateful for the Duke’s direction and leadership. They nodded sadly as the messenger spoke and immediately went to their homes, bolting the locks to protect themselves against the invisible enemy.

Quickly, they began plotting how they could continue to work from their homes. Zoom calls were set up, long email chains sent, Slack accounts created. The Highest Purpose was to make sure they did not get shot. Though these virtual work situations were not ideal, they were only a minor inconvenience compared to getting shot by an arrow.

The wealthy, sensible people began shouting from their ivory towers about how “everyone should stay home!” Tearful messages were sent via courier and posted on social media, begging the citizenry to remain sheltered in their abodes. They all agreed: if everyone would just stay home and use their shields, the invisible archer would give up and leave their city alone.

There was another class of people, however, who heard the duke’s decree but did not immediately flee for their homes. Instead, they stood in the town square, confused.

The watchman couldn’t figure out how he was supposed to do his job from home: he couldn’t very well protect the walls of the city from his private room in the basement of the local inn.

The stonemason sighed, realizing that he couldn’t stack bricks while working from home: he had to be on the building site to complete projects and make money.

The courier looked around, wishing he could stay home to protect himself from the invisible enemy: but if he couldn’t transport goods and packages, how was he supposed to survive?

So, left with no choice, these peasants continued doing their jobs. Most of them carried a second shield for protection, but they ignored the duke’s decree.

The winemaker and baker and butcher quickly recognized that if the townspeople stayed home, their businesses would suffer. The blacksmith laid off his apprentice, the cobbler closed up shop, and the farmer lowered his prices.

All the while, more and more victims were piled up. Every day, one of the duke’s men came out onto the terrace to provide updates about the number of dead and wounded within the city walls. He delivered this message holding two shields, accompanied by two other men to protect him.

Each day, when the updated tally was delivered, the citizens’ outrage grew. From their ivory towers, the sensible aristocrats sent angry messages, vaguely aimed at anyone who wasn’t following the rules.

The Gentleman himself had fired off a few angry social media posts, frustrated that the attack of the arrows continued. Each day, he looked out the window of his lavish tower at the washers, stablehands, and coopers who insisted on leaving their homes. Couldn’t they just hop on a Zoom call? Why weren’t they utilizing the technology that was widely available to anyone who could afford it? It was senseless and downright selfish of them to continue to put the rest of the residents at risk.

He was grateful that the winemaker had started a delivery service (otherwise, how was he supposed to purchase his alcohol?) and that the stablehand was willing to exercise his steed regularly (otherwise, who would make sure the horse was healthy?). But in the end, it was distressing that these businesses weren’t taking the attacks seriously enough.

As the gentleman worked himself into an angry lather, he pushed himself out of his velvet chair and walked into his office chambers. He stood at his desk and crossed his arms, looking out the window again, hoping to catch someone in the act of leaving their home.

It had gotten to the point that the Gentleman felt slightly vindicated each time he heard the death toll rise. Surely, if they had only followed the rules as I have, they wouldn’t have died! He didn’t want to feel this way; in fact, when the attack had started, he mourned each individual death.

He posted verbose and emotional statements thanking the nurses and essential workers for all of their sacrifices. He lamented the “needless death” and demanded better leadership from the Duke. He mocked those who disagreed with him, daring them to take the archer’s side instead of siding with human life.

But as the attacks continued into a ninth month, the Gentleman had reached a plateau of sympathy.

Now, their insubordination was infuriating. If this rash of wounds and deaths didn’t subside, the Gentleman would not be able to return to “normal life” as soon as possible. It had been nigh on a year since he had attended a jousting event or been to mass in person.

The longer these imps refused to follow the rules, the longer it would be before the gentleman got his life back.

Really, the only time he had been out was to the inn a couple of months ago for a friend’s party. He admitted that it wasn’t the safest thing for him to do, but it had been so long since he had interacted with other humans and he needed an ale so badly that he decided to risk it.

But other than that, he had descended from his tower for strictly necessary business.

Noticing the location of the sun, the Gentleman sighed and sat down in his high-backed chair at the large marble desk. He opened his laptop and logged onto Zoom to get ready for his next meeting.

As he waited for his coworkers to log on, there was a knock at the door.

“Who’s there?” the Gentleman shouted at the door.

“It’s the courier, sir!” a muffled voice responded. “I’ve got the food you ordered!”