Page 116 of The Secret of Secrets

“Temporarily, yes. And in that moment, they received far more information about the universe than we are able to see.”

Langdon thought of scientist Nikola Tesla, whose quote Katherine had sent him after their first discussion about nonlocal consciousness: My brain is only a receiver. In the Universe there is a core from which we obtain knowledge.

“Have you ever done drugs, Robert?”

The non sequitur took him off guard. “Do you consider gin a drug?”

She laughed. “No, I’m talking about psychedelics—hallucinogens that cause overwhelming emotions and vivid imagery.”

Clearly you’ve never had enough gin. “No.”

“Psychedelics like mescaline, LSD, psilocybin—do you know how those drugs make you experience all that?”

Langdon had never really thought about it. “I assume they stimulate your imagination?”

“That’s a reasonable guess,” she said, “and that’s what most people think, but then again nobody had yet thought to use real-time magnetic resonance spectroscopy to observe a mind in the midst of a psychedelic drug trip.”

“You did that?” He pictured someone tripping on LSD, strapped into an MRI tube, with Katherine looking on.

“Of course I did…it was the logical next step in my research. Many drug trips include out-of-body experiences, and I wondered what the GABA response looked like when that happened.”

“And?”

Katherine was beaming now. “As it turns out…just like our historically misunderstood halo, we’ve been seeing it all backward. Hallucinogens don’t excite your neurons, as you guessed—they do the opposite. Those drugs, through a series of complex interactions in the brain’s default mode network, drastically decrease your GABA levels. In other words, they lower your filters and allow a wider spectrum of reality to flow in. That means you are not hallucinating, you’re actually seeing more of reality. Those sensations of connectedness, love and enlightenment…are real.”

It was a remarkable assertion and Langdon considered it—that the brain had limitless potential to receive consciousness…except that it was locked inside a protective cage that could be escaped only through death…or, to a lesser degree, an epileptic seizure or certain psychedelic substances.

The topic of psychedelics seemed to be everywhere these days; health experts all over the media were suddenly extolling the virtues of “microdosing” psychedelic mushrooms, proclaiming that psilocybin was a panacea for anxiety, depression, and distraction.

One of Langdon’s Harvard colleagues, author Michael Pollan, had made headlines not long ago with his number one bestseller and Netflix documentary about the positive power of psychedelics, How to Change Your Mind.

Another Boston-based superstar in the field, Rick Doblin, had founded MAPS—the Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies—which had raised over $130 million for psychedelic research with astonishing success treating depression and PTSD.

Brave new world, Langdon thought, recalling that Huxley’s vision of the future had included dosing the entire population with a happy drug called SOMA.

“The chemistry of consciousness,” Katherine said, “is not just a fascinating exercise in self-exploration…it could be the shift humanity needs to survive. Think of the chaos and discord of our world today. Imagine a future in which humans start to lower our brain filters and begin to exist with a greater understanding of reality…a greater sense of inclusion and togetherness. We might truly start to believe that we’re a unified species!”

Langdon was transfixed by her out-of-the-box thinking.

“Think of all the elusive enlightened states we crave,” Katherine said. “Expanded consciousness, universal connection, unbounded love, spiritual awakening, creative genius. They all seem out of reach—the products of very special minds or rare experiences. Not true! We all have that capacity—all the time. We’re just chemically blocked from experiencing it…”

Langdon felt a surge of love and respect for her. Katherine may have just revolutionized our understanding of human consciousness…and discovered a road map for widening it. “I’m floored, Katherine—your work is going to have profound impact,” he said, letting it all settle and trying not to get dragged back to reality by the obvious question that remained on his mind.

“I know,” Katherine said with a frown, anticipating his thought. “It still doesn’t explain why all this is happening…why anyone would want to destroy my manuscript.”

Exactly.

The answer to that question, Langdon realized, would have to wait.

The limousine had just banked left and slowed at a stone archway and a heavy cast-iron gate outside the ambassadorial residence. A sign read, All Visitors Must Present Identification. The security protocol apparently did not extend to those in the ambassadorial limousine, because the gate swung open and the Marine in the stone sentry house ushered them through without hesitation.

Langdon gazed out at the fortified perimeter walls surrounding the grounds of the residence and wondered what answers might lie inside. As the limo snaked along the tree-lined driveway, he noticed the gate had already closed tightly behind them. An uncomfortable thought gripped him.

Are we entering a sanctuary…or a lion’s den?

Chapter 75

The U.S. ambassador’s residence in Prague—known as Petschek Villa—is a palatial Beaux Arts chateau whose French architectural grandeur inspired its local nickname, Le Petit Versailles. Built for Otto Petschek, a wealthy Jewish industrialist whose family was driven out of Prague by the Nazi occupation, Petschek Villa was overrun and inhabited by the armies of both the Nazis and the Russians. A touchstone of history, the villa now stands as an iconic landmark to the region’s dark history of occupation, oppression, and genocide.