“Peter tells me,” Galloway said, “that your field of study is a kind of modern mystical science?”
“Noetics,” Katherine said, nodding. “And it’s proving man has powers unlike anything we can imagine.” She motioned to a stained-glass window depicting the familiar image of the “Luminous Jesus,” that of Christ with rays of light flowing from his head and hands. “In fact, I just used a supercooled charge-coupled device to photograph the hands of a faith healer at work. The photos looked a lot like the image of Jesus in your stained-glass window . . . streams of energy pouring through the healer’s fingertips.”
The well-trained mind,
Galloway thought, hiding a smile.
How do you think Jesus healed the sick?
“I realize,” Katherine said, “that modern medicine ridicules healers and shamans, but I saw this with my own eyes. My CCD cameras clearly photographed this man transmitting a massive energy field from his fingertips . . . and literally changing the cellular makeup of his patient. If
that’s
not godlike power, then I don’t know what is.”
Dean Galloway let himself smile. Katherine had the same fiery passion as her brother. “Peter once compared Noetic Scientists to the early explorers who were mocked for embracing the heretical notion of a
spherical
earth. Almost overnight, these explorers went from fools to heroes, discovering uncharted worlds and expanding the horizons of everyone on the planet. Peter thinks
you
will do this as well. He has very high hopes for your work. After all, every great philosophical shift in history began with a single bold idea.”
Galloway knew, of course, that one needn’t go to a lab to witness proof
of this bold new idea, this proposal of man’s untapped potential. This very cathedral held healing prayer circles for the sick, and repeatedly had witnessed truly miraculous results, medically documented physical transformations. The question was not whether God had imbued man with great powers . . . but rather how we
liberate
those powers.
The old dean placed his hands reverently around the sides of the Masonic Pyramid and spoke very quietly. “My friends, I do not know exactly
where
this pyramid points . . . but I do know
this
. There is a great spiritual treasure buried out there somewhere . . . a treasure that has waited patiently in darkness for generations. I believe it is a catalyst that has the power to transform this world.” He now touched the golden tip of the capstone. “And now that this pyramid is assembled . . . the time is fast approaching. And why shouldn’t it? The promise of a great transformational enlightenment has been prophesied forever.”
“Father,” Langdon said, his tone challenging, “we’re all familiar with the Revelation of Saint John and the literal meaning of the Apocalypse, but biblical prophecy hardly seems—”
“Oh, heavens, the Book of Revelation is a mess!” the dean said. “Nobody knows how to read that. I’m talking about
clear
minds writing in clear language—the predictions of Saint Augustine, Sir Francis Bacon, Newton, Einstein, the list goes on and on, all anticipating a transformative moment of enlightenment. Even Jesus himself said, ‘Nothing is hidden that will not be made known, nor secret that will not come to light.’”
“It’s a safe prediction to make,” Langdon said. “Knowledge grows exponentially. The more we know, the greater our ability to learn, and the
faster
we expand our knowledge base.”
“Yes,” Katherine added. “We see this in science all the time. Each new technology we invent becomes a tool with which to invent new technologies . . . and it snowballs. That’s why science has advanced more in the last five years than in the previous five
thousand
. Exponential growth. Mathematically, as time passes, the exponential curve of progress becomes almost vertical, and new development occurs incredibly fast.”
Silence fell in the dean’s office, and Galloway sensed that his two guests still had no idea how this pyramid could possibly help them reveal anything further.
That is why fate brought you to me,
he thought.
I have a role to play.
For many years, the Reverend Colin Galloway, along with his Masonic brothers, had played the role of gatekeeper. Now it was all changing.
I am no longer a gatekeeper . . . I am a guide.
“Professor Langdon?” Galloway said, reaching out across his desk. “Take my hand if you will.”
Robert Langdon felt uncertain as he stared across at Dean Galloway’s outstretched palm.
Are we going to pray?
Politely, Langdon reached out and placed his right hand in the dean’s withered hand. The old man grasped it firmly but did not begin to pray. Instead, he found Langdon’s index finger and guided it downward into the stone box that had once housed the golden capstone.
“Your eyes have blinded you,” the dean said. “If you saw with your fingertips as I do, you would realize this box has something left to teach you.”
Dutifully, Langdon worked his fingertip around the inside of the box, but he felt nothing. The inside was perfectly smooth.
“Keep looking,” Galloway prompted.
Finally, Langdon’s fingertip felt something—a tiny raised circle—a minuscule dot in the center of the base of the box. He removed his hand and peered inside. The little circle was virtually invisible to the naked eye.
What is that?
“Do you recognize that symbol?” Galloway asked.
“Symbol?” Langdon replied. “I can barely see anything at all.”
“Push down on it.”
Langdon did as he asked, pressing his fingertip down onto the spot.
What does he think will happen?
“Hold your finger down,” the dean said. “Apply pressure.”
Langdon glanced over at Katherine, who looked puzzled as she tucked a wisp of hair behind her ears.
A few seconds later, the old dean finally nodded. “Okay, remove your hand. The alchemy is complete.”
Alchemy?
Robert Langdon removed his hand from the stone box and sat in bewildered silence. Nothing had changed at all. The box just sat there on the desk.
“Nothing,” Langdon said.
“Look at your fingertip,” the dean replied. “You should see a transformation.”
Langdon looked at his finger, but the only transformation he could see was that he now had an indentation on his skin made by the circular nubbin—a tiny circle with a dot in the middle.
“
Now
do you recognize this symbol?” the dean asked.
Although Langdon recognized the symbol, he was more impressed that the dean had been able to feel the detail of it. Seeing with one’s fingertips was apparently a learned skill.
“It’s alchemical,” Katherine said, sliding her chair closer and examining Langdon’s finger. “It’s the ancient symbol for
gold
.”
“Indeed it is.” The dean smiled and patted the box. “Professor, congratulations. You have just achieved what every alchemist in history has strived for. From a worthless substance, you’ve created gold.”
Langdon frowned, unimpressed. The little parlor trick seemed to be no help at all. “An interesting idea, sir, but I’m afraid this symbol—a circle with a round dot in the middle—has dozens of meanings. It’s called a
circumpunct,
and it’s one of the most widely used symbols in history.”
“What are you talking about?” the dean asked, sounding skeptical.
Langdon was stunned that a Mason was not more familiar with the spiritual importance of this symbol. “Sir, the circumpunct has
countless
meanings. In ancient Egypt, it was the symbol for Ra—the sun god—and modern astronomy still uses it as the solar symbol. In Eastern philosophy, it represents the spiritual insight of the Third Eye, the divine rose, and the sign of illumination. The Kabbalists use it to symbolize the Kether—the highest Sephiroth and ‘the most hidden of all hidden things.’ Early mystics called it the Eye of God and it’s the origin of the All-Seeing Eye on the Great Seal. The Pythagoreans used the circumpunct as the symbol of the Monad—the Divine Truth, the Prisca Sapientia, the at-one-ment of mind and soul, and the—”
“Enough!” Dean Galloway was chuckling now. “Professor, thank you. You are correct, of course.”
Langdon now realized he had just been played.
He knew all that.
“The circumpunct,” Galloway said, still smiling to himself, “is essentially
the
symbol of the Ancient Mysteries. For this reason, I would suggest that its presence in this box is not mere coincidence. Legend holds that the secrets of this map are hidden in the smallest of details.”
“Fine,” Katherine said, “but even if this symbol was inscribed there intentionally, it doesn’t bring us any closer to deciphering the map, does it?”
“You mentioned earlier that the wax seal you broke was embossed with Peter’s ring?”
“That’s correct.”
“And you said you have that ring with you?”
“I do.” Langdon reached into his pocket, found the ring, took it out of the plastic bag, and placed it on the desk in front of the dean.
Galloway picked up the ring and began feeling its surfaces. “This unique ring was created at the same time as the Masonic Pyramid, and traditionally, it is worn by the Mason in charge of
protecting
the pyramid. Tonight, when I felt the tiny circumpunct on the bottom of the stone box, I realized that the ring is, in fact, part of the symbolon.”
“It is?”
“I’m certain of it. Peter is my closest friend, and he wore this ring for many years. I am quite familiar with it.” He handed the ring to Langdon. “See for yourself.”
Langdon took the ring and examined it, running his fingers over the double-headed phoenix, the number 33, the words
ORDO AB CHAO
,
and also the words
All is revealed at the thirty-third degree
. He felt nothing helpful. Then, as his fingers traced down around the outside of the band, he stopped short. Startled, he turned the ring over and eyed the very bottom of its band.
“Did you find it?” Galloway said.
“I think so, yes!” Langdon said.
Katherine slid her chair closer. “What?”
“The degree sign on the band,” Langdon said, showing her.
“
It’s so small that you don’t really notice it with your eyes, but if you feel it, you can tell it’s actually indented—like a tiny circular incision.” The degree sign was centered on the bottom of the band . . . and admittedly looked to be the same size as the raised nubbin in the bottom of the cube.
“Is it the same size?” Katherine moved closer still, sounding excited now.
“There’s one way to find out.” He took the ring and lowered it into the box, aligning the two tiny circles. As he pushed down, the raised circle on the box slid into the ring’s opening, and there was a faint but decisive click.
They all jumped.
Langdon waited, but nothing happened.
“What was that?!” the priest said.
“Nothing,” Katherine replied. “The ring locked into place . . . but nothing else happened.”
“No great transformation?” Galloway looked puzzled.
We’re not done,
Langdon realized, gazing down at the ring’s embossed insignia—a double-headed phoenix and the number 33.
All is revealed at the thirty-third degree.
His mind filled with thoughts of Pythagoras, sacred
geometry, and angles; he wondered if perhaps
degrees
had a
mathematical
meaning.
Slowly, heart beating faster now, he reached down and grasped the ring, which was affixed to the base of the cube. Then, slowly, he began turning the ring to the right.
All is revealed at the thirty-third degree.
He turned the ring ten degrees . . . twenty degrees . . . thirty degrees—
What happened next, Langdon never saw coming.
CHAPTER
85
Transformation.
Dean Galloway
heard
it happen, and so he didn’t need to see it.
Across the desk from him, Langdon and Katherine were dead silent, no doubt staring in mute astonishment at the stone cube, which had just transformed itself loudly before their very eyes.
Galloway couldn’t help but smile. He had anticipated the result, and although he still had no idea how this development would ultimately help them solve the riddle of the pyramid, he was enjoying the rare chance to teach a Harvard symbologist something about symbols.
“Professor,” the dean said, “few people realize that the Masons venerate the shape of the cube—or
ashlar,
