In March 1990, a 46-meter-long cannon, 350 millimeters in diameter and weighing 102 tons, stood on a hill in Iraq. Known as Baby Babylon, this massive weapon was a prototype designed by Canadian engineer Gerald Bull. The cannon was built to test the feasibility of launching payloads into space using artillery, rather than rockets. Early tests with lead projectiles showed promise, suggesting the device could reach a range of up to 750 kilometers. However, Baby Babylon was only a preliminary version of a much larger project, which would have been called Big Babylon. This larger cannon would have been over 156 meters long, with a 1,000-millimeter diameter tube, and weighed around 2,100 tons—making it one of the most powerful artillery pieces ever built. Bull’s ambitions were not solely peaceful. While he publicly claimed the project was intended to launch satellites at a lower cost, a defected Iraqi general suggested the cannon was designed for a more sinister purpose: to blind enemy spy satellites by exploding a shell in space that would release a sticky substance. Bull, born in 1928 in Ontario, had spent his career developing large cannons. In the 1960s, he worked on the HARP project in Barbados, where he combined two naval cannons to create the longest artillery piece ever built. Though the project was eventually abandoned, Bull continued his work through his own company, the Space Research Corporation. His company faced legal trouble in the 1980s for illegally selling advanced artillery technology to South Africa, which was under international sanctions. This led to a brief imprisonment and a loss of support from Western governments. In 1981, Bull was approached by Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein, who offered him $25 million in 1988 to develop the Babylon project. At the time, Iraq was seeking to build a lasting military advantage after the Iran-Iraq war. However, Bull’s work in Iraq came to an abrupt end on March 22, 1990, when he was shot dead in Brussels by a professional sniper. The attack, which included five bullets fired in a calculated manner, was believed to be linked to his work with Iraq, and the Israeli Mossad was suspected, though no one was ever charged. Bull’s death halted the project, as engineers in Montreal were preparing to conduct tests in Iraq. Despite the assassination, the Babylon project became public when eight large metal cylinders, destined for Iraq, were seized in the United Kingdom. This revelation led the Space Research Corporation to shut down its operations. After the Gulf War, international inspectors destroyed the remaining components of the project under UN supervision. Today, remnants of the cannon—sections of tube scattered across shipyards and workshops—remain as a curious footnote in engineering history. The real question that lingers is why a single engineer, despite his brilliance, became a target for an execution in the heart of Europe.