Page 80 of The Secret of Secrets

The universe is mocking me, Langdon decided as he watched the amorphous cloud of birds undulating across the sky. Katherine had researched the synchronized murmurations of starlings and declared the phenomenon to be scientific proof of an invisible connection between living things.

“Separation is an illusion,” she had told Jonas at their lunch last year and pulled up a mesmerizing video of starlings all moving as one. “This phenomenon is called behavioral synchronization, and it occurs all throughout nature.”

She scrolled through several video clips—a mile-long school of bluefish all turning left and right in perfect synch; an endless herd of migrating gazelles, all bounding and leaping in unison; a swarm of fireflies, all illuminating and blinking in unison; a nest of hundreds of sea turtle eggs, all hatching within seconds of one another.

“Incredible,” Faukman said.

“It never ceases to amaze me,” Katherine said. “Some traditional scientists claim behavioral synchronization is actually just an illusion…that these organisms are simply reacting to one another so rapidly that the delay is imperceptible.” Katherine shrugged. “Unfortunately, a pair of high-speed video cameras linked to atomic clocks at the front and back of a school of fish has shown that their alleged reaction time is faster than the speed of light.”

“Oops,” Langdon said.

“Exactly,” Katherine said with a smile. “That’s a no-no in our current model of physics and reality. Instead, I would argue that there exists a point of view from which these synchronizations are not miraculous at all. If you view a murmuration of starlings not as many individual birds—but rather as one complete organism—then the synchronization is to be expected. The starlings are moving as one because they are one…an interconnected system. No separation. Much like the individual cells in your body, which form the integrated whole that is you.”

Faukman looked fascinated.

“I believe the same holds true for each of us as human beings,” Katherine said, sounding excited now. “We mistakenly picture ourselves as isolated individuals when in fact we are part of a much larger organism. The loneliness we feel is because we can’t see the truth—we are, in fact, integrated into the complete whole. Separation is our shared delusion.”

She touched the tablet. “Don’t take it from me, though. Here is one of the most brilliant minds in history.” A new screen appeared—a quote from Albert Einstein.

A human being is a part of the whole called by us “universe”…

He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings

as something separated from the rest,

a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness.

This delusion is a kind of prison for us.

“Even the greatest scientist who ever lived,” Katherine said, “declared that our conscious minds delude us and trick us into seeing disconnectedness where there is only unity.”

Leonardo da Vinci had said the same thing, Langdon recalled. Realize that everything connects to everything else.

“And similar proclamations have been made by spiritual prophets throughout time,” Katherine continued, “but today, a growing number of quantum physicists are echoing a belief in the interconnectivity of all things…and all people.” Katherine smiled at Faukman. “I admit it’s hard to visualize our connection to a world we cannot see, but believe me, future generations will understand. One day we’ll see that our perception of being alone in the world was once humankind’s greatest shared delusion.”

“And your experiments?” Faukman pressed. “The ones you’re not telling us about? They echo this interconnectivity?”

Katherine smiled, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Gentlemen, the results of these experiments will not only remind us we are all connected. They will light the way toward an entirely new understanding of our reality and human potential.”

Just then, a piercing squeal brought Langdon back to the cold wind at the top of Petřín Tower. For a moment, he thought it was a sound from the elevator, but instead he looked down and saw that a car had just skidded loudly to a stop at the base of the tower. The black sedan looked forebodingly familiar. The emblems on the doors confirmed it.

ÚZSI.

Langdon could not make out the face of the uniformed man who jumped from the driver’s seat far below and was now sprinting across the parking lot toward the tower. But there was no mistaking his muscle-bound build.

Or the large pistol clutched in his hand.

Chapter 50

Lieutenant Pavel burst into the Petřín Tower visitor’s hall with his gun already drawn.

“Kde je ten Američan?!” he shouted in Czech to the attendant behind the counter.

The frightened woman backed up, dropping the stack of brochures she was arranging in the countertop display. She pointed overhead as Pavel described Langdon. “He went up!” she exclaimed, cowering.

Pavel could hear the elevator moving in the shaft, the sound growing louder. Descending. The staircase was cordoned off and closed. Perfect.

The elevator pinged, and Pavel set his feet wide and raised his weapon. When the door slid open, he found himself aiming at a young Indian couple, both of whom leaped back at the sight of Pavel’s gun.