By the end of that first morning, four individuals dropped out of the program. Two of them complained of back pain, and the others said the lecturing put them off. The rest of the group was fully involved in the class.

Lunch was light but abundant. Attendees were encouraged to meet others as they ate vegetarian fare beneath shading canopies. Massage therapists were available for those with urgent muscle aches. The leaders circulated a few times while the students ate, but spent most of their time away from the group, fine-tuning their afternoon plans and taking their own food. “We just lost four, but I think that will be it for fall-off,” she commented as she spread mashed beans on a cracker. “This group seems to be catching on fast.”

Her husband drank cool tea. He offered to give her his own version of massage then, but she slapped him down and continued speaking. “I’ll start the afternoon lecture with half the group, while you show completed projects to the other half. Unless you’d rather?” He agreed with her plan and soon took four dozen students on a tour. She held forth in the eating area.

“Is everyone feeling nice and loose? Isn’t this wonderful?” she began to the tired but satisfied students. “Listen. I’m going to talk about recruitment. This is the first time you’ll hear about it but it won’t be the last. Its importance can’t be emphasized enough, although it usually takes awhile in the class before a student comes to understand that.

“One person can’t do this work. It would take hundreds of years to complete one structure. And without another to share the experience of the labor, it would be nothing but labor. No difference between it and abject servitude.

“Two people aren’t enough for this project. Nor are four. In fact, I’m looking at four dozen folks, and there are another four dozen with my partner right now, and the hundred of us are barely enough to work here today.”

She put both hands on the table before her, and leaned toward her audience. Her posture conveyed intense sincerity. “We need people. We need them to build with, to sweat with, to share with, to love. It’s all too easy for those of our class to become isolated in luxury and convenience.

“My partner recruited me into the program. Me and many others. The more the better. But it would have been enough for him to recruit only two, as long as those two did at least as much.

“Each of you must recruit at least two others. Each of your recruits must do the same. I don’t have to draw you a picture of the shape we’ll produce; in fact, we’re building that shape outside.

“Your recruits will be your apprentices, at least for a time. When they outgrow you, you’ll recruit some more. You’ll get back co-workers, progress on construction, acknowledgment of your leadership, companions in joy. You’ll lose nothing.”

She looked around the group then, and her dark eyes found mine. She nodded at me and smiled slightly. I stood and she introduced me.

“Here is our scribe for this session. He’s a former recruit of mine who has already brought in eight of his own. I’ll let him share his program experience with you.”

I expected this. Such sharing was part of our general procedure and required of every volunteer. I stood and told them how the class had changed my life. I’d tell the story to the other half of the group soon. And the next day I’d travel to Alexandria, to file this report in the library.

We want a permanent record of our program, and that library is built to last. Long after our pyramids have crumbled into the sand, the library at Alexandria will be maintained and will hold this record of us: this and all succeeding chapters. Our project is too important for us to risk misinterpretation by posterity.