The Ziggurat

Every species builds a ziggurat eventually. Steps going up, something shining at the top, a priest class halfway, and everybody else at the bottom carrying stones.

I’ve sat on top of eleven thousand of them. Some were stone, some were steel, and some were made of rules instead of blocks, which are harder to see and much harder to climb. The shape never changes. Wide at the bottom, where the work is. Narrow at the top, where the light is.

The planets drift past and nobody on them looks surprised. I think that’s the saddest part. They’ve all got one too.