Perge: The Curve of Empires (part 3)

voiceofruin

June 16, 2025

Dust of Time

The Murmur That Knew Names

One morning in Perge, silence happened. No one noticed.

Merchants laid out their figs, donkeys chewed with boredom, men argued in the baths about the taste of water — everything as usual. But one sound was missing. It had vanished. Lost.

It was the sound of a name.

In this city, shouting names was custom. It saved you from boredom, from forgetting, from the gods. A cry of “Kleon!” could mean “bring the bay leaves,” or “I love you,” or “you owe me.” Sometimes all at once. A name in the air was like an anchor: if someone calls you, you exist.

But that morning — names didn’t answer. Shouts died in the throat, like coal in water. People still spoke, but the sounds no longer returned.

At first they blamed colds, humidity, the wrong priests. Then heat, karma, local demons. But the worst part was this: no one could remember who they wanted to call. The name was on the tip of the tongue — and slid off, like wax from a manuscript.

Amphion, the potter from Third Street, was the first to write a name in chalk on the wall. Just: “MINON.” No period.

Passersby stopped. Minon — who was that? A baker? A soldier? A god of clay? No one knew. But everyone recognized the word. It echoed somewhere beneath the sternum. A familiar emptiness.

Within a day, the wall was full. Names. Strange, familiar, invented. Kleon, Sarapal, Melito, Tyrios, Mark — hundreds. Then thousands. People came and wrote. Because it helped them breathe.

Old Areta, the herbalist, said:

— The city has forgotten itself. We’re just sounds with no one left to echo them.

She hung signs over her stall: “I speak with the dead,” “One coin — one name,” “Pay — and you’ll be called.” It worked. She had customers. People paid to hear their name — even from someone else’s mouth. It helped them not disappear.

A boy from the forum started selling amulets engraved with: “Call me when it’s over.” They sold well, especially among soldiers. The statue of Artemis received a papyrus offering that read: “Call me. I no longer know who I am.”

Three weeks passed. Someone noticed: a new sound had entered the city.

It wasn’t human. It resembled gliding, rustling — like wind that knew how to read. It came at night, between the third and fourth dream. As if someone slowly called you by a name that wasn’t yours.

And everyone who heard it woke up slightly changed. One forgot his wife’s eye color. Another remembered drowning as a child — though he had never swum. Someone else began writing letters in an unknown language and dropping them into drains.

Then Amphion returned to the wall. He erased the old names. Said:

— If we forget — we must write ourselves anew.

He wrote his name. But differently. In a way no one had spoken it. He rearranged the letters. Made it new.

Others followed. New names. Variations, mistakes, rhymes. One became Pyrg, another — Levo, another — Khol. A name was no longer a cry. It became a cipher. Whoever knew your new name — was kin.

Within a month, the city no longer needed real names.

The silence was gone. But the sound that took its place — no one could describe. It had no shape. Sometimes it sounded like a childhood song. Sometimes like a word that doesn’t exist. Sometimes like a voice calling you, even though no one was.

They called it The Murmur That Knew Names.

Perge lived with it. Coexisted. Learned to bear it, like heat, like gods. People said: if it echoes through the colonnade — expect news. If at the market — don’t go to the theater. If under your pillow at night — surrender what you’re hiding. Because the Murmur remembers. Everything.

And names? They were called again. But gently. In whispers. Only by those who knew.

Because it’s one thing to be someone.

And quite another — to be recognized.

When the city died, the Murmur remained.

In our time, archaeologists found a fragment of a tablet. Etched into it:

“If you hear it — it’s already about you. Don’t call back.”#VoiceOfRuins #Perge #TheMurmurThatKnewNames #ancientcity #silence #names #magicofwords #memoryofthecity #ruins #donotanswer