The Reds
This project was a submission for an architectural annual competition in 2015 called “Fairy Tale” by the “Blanc Space”. It invited the participants to speculate and create narratives around architectural topics by submitting 5 visual frames and 5 paragraphs of the narrative.
As a group of 3 critical-thinking enthusiasts and politically concerned architecture students, we imagined this story as a critical commentary on racism, sexism, and any discrimination and inequalities based on banal and unreal concepts of class and race.
Some other concepts of criticising capitalism and employment of power were also addressed in this imaginary fairy tale, such as Marx’s theory of alienation of the working class, etc.
Chapter 1
There’s an extravagant silence… as if nothing exists at all. Everything feels the same—so equal, so still.
They move the same way. They look the same. They’re all equally staggered, just a few thoughtless, wandering bodies. There’s no difference in their behaviors—just forms drifting aimlessly, as if lost. They walk, but they don’t know where they’re going, only trying to answer the question: How did we come to be here? And why?
They’re not even aware of their ignorance. And so, the days pass, one exactly like the last, until THE DAY arrives…
A group of them, wandering without purpose, stumbles upon a red pond by chance.
Curiosity sparks something new in them—a sense they’ve never felt before. The one closest to the water bends down and touches the “red liquid.” He dips his other hand in too… could he look different now? His legs and arms turn red. The pond’s color spreads across him, and with it, a new feeling—greed. The others watch for a while, then, driven by the desire to be unique, they jump into the pond, staining their bodies and faces.
Now, they’re different.
They return to the others, but nothing has changed there. Except now, the uncolored ones stare at the red ones in awe, as though seeing a group of supernatural beings for the first time.
A change is beginning on this land—unseen and unknown by both the colored and uncolored.
Chapter 2
I’ve spent years locked away, working behind a wall, designing the “Redemption Tower.” A few years ago, the Reds held a competition titled “Architecture for Redemption,” and my design won. It was a massive responsibility to bring my concept to life, but the Reds were thrilled with my ideas and pushed me to finish quickly.
I wasn’t sure our goals were aligned, but I accepted the job anyway. The Reds insisted I work behind a wall, forbidden from stepping to the other side until the project was complete. From that point on, my work was closely supervised by them, and I had to design every detail as they dictated.
The design itself is dynamic—a tower that rises continuously, its vertical expansion symbolizing the journey to redemption. The materials used to construct this tower are people—stacked on top of one another. People will live their entire lives within its walls, from childhood to old age, rising toward the sky. The Reds and their families are the tower’s residents, overseeing the process and ensuring everyone reaches redemption.
How it works: young uncolored people volunteer to join the tower’s structure, aspiring to reach the top. They start at the lowest level, with the chance of rising to the top as they grow older. As more people join, the tower grows taller.
Chapter 3
I finished the last details of my design and handed the plans to the Red project manager. He looked over them, smiling, then walked to the other side of the wall. Two giant red men appeared, grabbed my shoulders, and dragged me along.
Seeing the tower for the first time felt… wrong. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The men brought me into the tower, shouting, “To the Redemption! Viva the great Red!” They pushed me into a crowd of people—immobile bodies set into the walls. I struggled, shouted, “I’m the designer! I’m not supposed to be part of this structure!”
Days passed, and I found myself rising with the tower, getting closer to the promised land. As I ascended, strange sights greeted me. The Reds were eating their meals in spaces formed by people. A small red child played with toys on faces embedded in the ground. Red wives sunbathed on balconies made of people. People decorated the walls—floors, ceilings, beds, doors, windows—all made from uncolored bodies.
I had designed it all, but as I watched it unfold, a sickness settled deep in my chest. Now I knew for sure… something was terribly wrong.
Doubt—another new feeling—began to gnaw at me. The higher I went, the more my doubts grew, and my tolerance for this twisted creation shrank. I thought of the redemption poster… It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was meant to rise, to reach the sky! I had to leave.
With everything I had left, I pushed myself through the walls of the bodies—volunteers glued together in the name of the Reds. I climbed faster, walking over arms and legs, determined to reach the top. The promised land was just beyond my reach.
Hope was my only strength now.
Day after day, I climbed, each step bringing me closer to the clouds. My heart pounded. Nobody knew what lay above the clouds, but I’d dreamed of that place my entire life. Excitement kept me going.
I couldn’t wait to see what awaited beyond those clouds. Millions had volunteered for this very tower, yearning to discover the hidden happiness up there.
As I climbed higher, I saw the bodies of those who had died on their way up. They had joined the tower in their youth, enduring pain and pressure, only to become part of the material, their wishes and dreams frozen forever in the walls.
I felt like I was the first to reach the top.
The clouds parted, and I finally saw above… but it wasn’t what I expected. It looked like a simple ceiling.
No. This couldn’t be it. There had to be more.
I couldn’t stop now. I had to break through, reach that promised land, that place of redemption. I climbed over the dead bodies, cracked through the ceiling, and pulled myself up.
Light. Everywhere, light.
I looked around. There were only boxes—so many boxes drifting aimlessly.
Now I understood. I was standing on one of them.
I felt nothing.
I staggered, sitting on the edge of my box, lighting a cigarette.
He never knew that all around him, countless others wandered in boxes of their own, making plans, creating dreams, trapped in their own little worlds. He didn’t know that the land was full of Redemption Towers, each one rising, each one built on the same illusion.
Credits
Armin Rangani
Nikoo Koochak kosari