Radical 2 in 60 seconds
Deep in the bowels of the Collection
Beneath the stars and stripes
Another dynasty stirs and breathes
A City State, an empire brutal, the largest city and holy place.
Babylon whispers and scholars debate,
Shifting sands under stars in a desert sky.
Imperial jewels glint, tangled in jet black hair
That drapes over royal shoulders.
Others herd sheep or offer them up to the sky.
Grain merchants sweat, beads that gleam against a wet brow
and count in the sacks to pay the man.
Some measure the heavens, others pore over maps
Eagerly jabbing with slimy finger where war and destruction will prosper.
In the cool the Curator touches the disc.
Sexagesimal numeral system still measuring angles
And co-ordinates across similar states that differ
For one did not possess a zero whilst the other
Sprang out the ground, swirling in smoke and tearful pain.
The tablet is small and crude to the eye
But concealed from those who glance briefly
And shy away, are secrets that reveal themselves
To the guardian of number from Babylon to tomorrow.
Already possessing an algorithm seeking out approximations
To the square root of 2, a radical.
Calculating, quantifying with beautiful art, yet
The origins of mathematical reasoning held in his hand
The curator closes his eyes and goes back in time.
Another is adding and taking away from the conquered,
Vying for control, demanding tribute and wealth,
Homage and taxes. Life and Death.
And in his hand he holds the small brown disc from the beginnings of time
And across time the golden disc burns down over a previous war crime.
The conquest of mathematics, sequences of events, number so pure
Is one side of the coin, another empowers an Empire to procure.
The armies are on the move, clanking forward between the two rivers
The calculations are done, logistics re-checked, the mathematics delivers.
By Linda Prince
By Linda Prince
