Page 135 of The Secret of Secrets

Langdon hesitated, cocking his head. “Oh…Spiritual Architecture? You read that book?”

“Well, you sent it to me…”

The practice of astral projection, Langdon had written, dated back to ancient Egypt, where pyramids included carefully angled shafts to enable the pharaoh’s soul, or Ka, to move in and out to the stars. The word “Ka,” Langdon had noted in his book, was often mistranslated as “soul,” when in fact it meant “vehicle”…a way of transporting consciousness to other locations. The wisdom the pharaohs acquired on their soul’s journey to the stars was possible only because of their understanding of untethered Ka…in other words, nonlocal consciousness. The notion of an “eternal, incorporeal soul,” Langdon wrote, was a universal constant across all religions.

He’s always talking about nonlocal consciousness. He just doesn’t realize it.

“Okay,” Langdon said, looking chagrined, “but I write about historical beliefs—not hard science. Just because a culture believes something is true…that doesn’t make it a scientific fact. I’m just saying I find it hard to imagine that remote viewing is scientifically possible.”

Normally Katherine appreciated Langdon’s skepticism because it challenged her, but today she felt he wasn’t opening his mind far enough to see a truth that was obvious to her. The father of American psychology, William James, had famously said: In order to disprove the assertion that all crows are black, one white crow is sufficient. As Katherine described in her manuscript, an entire flock of white crows had now been flushed out…by noetic science, by quantum physics, and by the work of an impressive cadre of academics who were vocal advocates of nonlocal consciousness.

Respected minds like Harold Puthoff, Russell Targ, Edwin May, Dean Radin, Brenda Dunne, Robert Morris, Julia Mossbridge, Robert Jahn, and many others had made astounding findings in diverse fields like plasma physics, nonlinear mathematics, and consciousness anthropology, all of which supported the notion of nonlocal consciousness. Their popular books bore titles like Limitless Mind, Remote Perceptions, The Seventh Sense, Anomalous Cognition, and Real Magic.

Katherine had not heard about any of these other titles getting pushback from the CIA. And why would they? The notion of “mind separated from body” was not nearly as exotic as most imagined. The millions of people who practiced meditation were in fact already flirting with the peripheries of this world, focusing their minds until their physical bodies seemed to evaporate and they perceived themselves as only mind—a consciousness no longer located inside the body.

From there, a small percentage of skilled meditators achieved “projection,” a state in which consciousness was perceived as moving away from one’s physical location. This was the same detached sensation described by many epileptics and survivors of near-death experiences.

The closest Katherine had ever come to projecting was the occasional “lucid dream”—a bizarre experience wherein she “woke up” inside her dream, realized she was dreaming, and was able to do whatever she wanted within her dream. The ultimate virtual playground. An accessible bridge between consciousness and fantasy, lucid dreaming offered a unique window into the manipulation of one’s own subjective reality. Not surprisingly, lucid dreaming had become a multimillion-dollar industry of “lucidity”—dream instruction manuals, sleep goggles, and even galantamine drug cocktails designed to help dreamers “Go Lucid!”

Katherine knew lucid dreaming had been recognized across various cultures for centuries, but it wasn’t until the 1970s that scientific methods, notably by psychophysiologist Stephen LaBerge, had empirically validated its existence. LaBerge demonstrated that lucid dreamers, while sleeping, could communicate their “conscious awareness” to researchers by performing a series of pre-agreed eye movements…all while the dreamer’s mind was having an experience far from his sleeping body.

Waking up within a dream was a learnable skill for those who were interested, but for those who were not, there was still good news. Katherine believed that everyone would have at least one out-of-body experience in their lifetime.

The moment of death.

The data overwhelmingly suggested that death was accompanied by a transition through a conscious out-of-body experience, usually perceived as your mind detached from your body, hovering over your own physical form on an operating table, accident site, deathbed…observing those who were attempting to revive you or say their tearful goodbyes. Thousands of revived patients had stunned surgeons by recounting precise actions and conversations taking place in the hospital while they were clinically dead and even had their eyes taped shut for surgery.

There was still no consensus on what caused these out-of-body visions.

Fortuitous hallucinations caused by hypoxia? Evidence of the soul leaving the body? A fleeting glimpse into our next existence?

The true nature of death, Katherine knew, was the secret we all yearned to understand…across every culture, every generation, and every era. Unlike most of life’s unknowable mysteries, however, this was a secret that was guaranteed to be unveiled to every one of us…yet only at the end.

Our last moments of life…become our first moments of truth.

Chapter 86

Ambassador Nagel was carefully navigating the hairpin turn on Chotkova when her personal cell phone chirped on the charger beside her. For a moment, she imagined the unfamiliar sound must be some kind of alert to inform her the phone was no longer completely dead.

But the phone kept chirping. Nagel glanced down, startled to see an incoming call—her first ever on this phone, whose ringtone was apparently set to “cricket.”

Nobody knows this line even exists…

Nonetheless, her caller ID showed a familiar name—Sergeant Scott Kerble—the lead officer on her Marine security guard detail. Nagel trusted Kerble with her life, but she was surprised that he had this number. Seeing no option but to answer, she took the call.

“Scott?”

“Madam Ambassador!” the guard exclaimed, sounding relieved. “I apologize for using your private line. I tried all your other numbers, but—”

“It’s fine—I just wasn’t aware anyone knew about this phone. Is there a problem?”

“Your residence informs me,” the Marine said, “that you’re coming to the embassy for some medication. What’s your ETA?”

Nagel slumped over the wheel. Dammit. “Actually, Scott, it’s not a convenient time. Is something wrong?” She could see the entrance to Mánesův Bridge fast approaching ahead of them.

“I’m waiting for you at the embassy, ma’am, with an item that I believe you need—”

“Wait, I thought you were with Dana overseeing the recovery of Mr. Harris!”