PTOLEMY (v.o):
In the spring, Alexander marched an army of 150,000 across the passes of the Hindu Kush into the unknown. In his dream, it was the promised route to the end of the world. We were now a mobile empire, stretching back thousands of miles to Greece. Cooks and architects, doctors, surveyors, moneylenders and wives, children, lovers, whores. And slaves. That anonymous, bent, working spine of this new beast. Ravaged or expanded, for better or worse, no occupied territory remained the same again. Although devoted to Roxane, Alexander’s visits to her tent diminished as a year, then two, went by without a successor, wounding Alexander’s great pride.
Ptolemy:
The surveyors are saying that Zeus chained Prometheus up there. In one of those caves. They say there’s a giant eagle’s nest just above it. I suppose he drops down each night to peck out poor Prometheus’ liver.
Alexander:
You remember what Aristotle told us of these mountains?
Ptolemy:
Yes, I do. That when we reach these heights, we’d look back and see Macedonia to the west and the outer ocean to the east. But I fear this world’s is far larger than anyone dreamed.
Alexander:
A world of Titans.
Ptolemy:
The scouts have been up every known trail, Alexander. There is no way across. Except to the south, into India.
Alexander: Were we gods, we’d breach these walls to the eastern ocean.
Ptolemy:
We will, Alexander. In a few years’ time, we will return. But first, the men must see their homes.
Alexander:
Have you found your home, Ptolemy?
Ptolemy:
More and more, I think it will be Alexandria. Well, at least it’s hot. And Thais, she loved it there.
Alexander:
Women bring men home. I have no such feelings.
Ptolemy:
Oh, you have Babylon, Alexander. Where your mother awaits your invitation.
Alexander:
Yes, I have Babylon. But each land, each boundary I cross, I strip away another illusion. I sense death would be the last. Yet still, I push harder and harder to reach this... home.
Where has our eagle gone? We must go on, Ptolemy. Until we find an end.
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