Page 63 of The Secret of Secrets

“Perspective is a choice,” Katherine continued, “and perspective is key when it comes to understanding consciousness. You have both chosen to view this as two fish swimming in perfect synch. However, if you can change your perspective and view them as one fish, one mind, one unified organism, simply swimming…then it’s quite normal.”

Langdon looked suddenly concerned that her pitch was about to go off the rails. “It’s not really a choice, is it, Katherine? Two separate, unconnected goldfish cannot be viewed as a singular organism.”

“This is true. But they’re not two separate organisms, Professor,” she replied. “They are one. And I’ll bet you your Mickey Mouse watch that I can prove it to you right now. Scientifically. Beyond any shadow of a doubt.”

Langdon again studied the two live videos: Two distinct bowls. Two distinct fish. “I’ll take the bet,” Langdon finally said. “Convince me it’s one organism.”

“Very well.” Katherine smiled. “And let me quote my favorite symbologist—sometimes a change in perspective is all it takes to reveal the Truth.”

She touched the iPad screen. “Here is a third live camera feed from the same lab. And here is your change in perspective, gentlemen.”

The new camera angle was an aerial view, looking down at a single fishbowl similar to the other bowls—blue pebbles, some kind of statuette, and a lone goldfish swimming in circles. Curiously, this aerial view also showed that two video cameras were set up next to the bowl, pointing at it from different positions.

“I don’t understand,” Faukman said.

“You’ve been looking at two videos of the same bowl,” Katherine said. “One bowl. One fish. Viewed from two different perspectives. Their separateness is an illusion. They are a single organism.”

“But they’re clearly in two different bowls,” Faukman protested. “What about the Yes/No statues? Those are different…how could it be one bowl?!”

Langdon hung his head. “Markus Raetz,” he whispered. “I should have seen it.”

Katherine reached into her bag and pulled out a familiar statuette—a copy of the Yes statue from the first bowl. She held it up, letting Faukman read the word. Then she rotated the statue ninety degrees, and Faukman heard himself gasp. From this new angle, the statuette looked totally different. From this direction…it read No.

“This piece of art,” Katherine said, “is the work of sculptor Markus Raetz, who—much like the universe we live in—is a master of illusion.”

Langdon was already unbuckling his Mickey Mouse watch.

“You know I don’t have children, Robert.” She laughed. “Keep your Mickey watch. I did this only to illustrate a point about impossibility. And the point is this: what I am about to tell you about human consciousness will seem impossible at first—as impossible as two synchronized goldfish—but if you permit yourself a change of perspective, everything will suddenly make sense…and those things you once found mysterious will appear as plain as day.”

From that moment on, Faukman found himself hanging on her every word. Lunch turned into a three-hour, mind-bending journey of discovery…including Katherine coyly promising him that her book would outline a series of cutting-edge experiments that she had performed, and whose results not only supported this new paradigm but also suggested our current human experience was woefully limited compared to what it could actually be.

By the end of lunch, Faukman was uncertain if his spinning head was on account of Katherine Solomon’s ideas or too much wine, but he knew one thing for certain:

I am definitely publishing this book.

He suspected this lunch might end up being the best publishing investment he’d ever made.

Now, however, a year later, hog-tied on the floor of a freezing-cold van, he was having serious second thoughts about his decision. He hadn’t yet read a word of the manuscript and knew nothing about her mysterious experiments, but still he felt perplexed that anyone would want to destroy it.

For God’s sake, it’s a book about human consciousness!

Faukman’s kidnappers were sitting nearby, engrossed in their devices.

“Hey, guys?” Faukman ventured, teeth chattering. He wanted to keep them talking. “What’s so special about this book? You know it’s about science, right? There are no pictures.”

No reply.

“Look, I’m freezing. This is insane. If you can tell me why you’re so interested in this manuscript, maybe I can—”

“We’re not interested at all,” Buzzcut said. “Our employer is.”

“Darth Vader can read?”

Buzzcut actually chuckled. “Yes, and he wants to speak to you. We have a plane fueling. We’ll be leaving shortly for Prague.”

Faukman felt his body tense. “Wait! No way in hell I’m going to Prague! I don’t have my passport! I need to feed my cat!”

“I stole your passport from your apartment,” Buzzcut said. “And I shot your cat.”