Page 9 of The Secret of Secrets

She claims to have discovered something incredible.

Katherine’s discovery—whatever it might be—was a secret. She had not shared it yet with anyone, including Langdon, though she had alluded to it several times in recent days, confiding in him that the research for her book had led to a stunning breakthrough. After her lecture last night, Langdon felt a growing sense that Katherine’s book might well have explosive potential.

She doesn’t shy away from controversy, Langdon mused, having enjoyed watching her ruffle the feathers of traditionalists in the audience.

“Science has a long history of flawed models,” she had announced, her voice echoing across Vladislav Hall. “The flat-earth theory, the geocentric solar system, the steady-state universe…these are all false, though they were once taken quite seriously and believed to be true. Fortunately, our belief systems evolve when faced with enough inexplicable inconsistencies.”

Katherine grabbed a handheld remote, and the screen behind her sprang to life depicting a medieval astronomical model—the solar system portraying the earth at its center. “For centuries, this geocentric model was accepted as absolute fact. But over time, astronomers noticed planetary motion that was inconsistent with that model. The anomalies became so numerous and glaring that we…” She clicked again. “Built a different model.” The screen now displayed a modern illustration of the solar system with the sun at the center. “This new model explained all the anomalous phenomena, and heliocentricity is now our accepted reality.”

The audience sat quietly as Katherine walked to the front of the stage.

“Similarly,” she said, “there was a time when the suggestion of a round earth was laughable—scientific heresy, even. After all, if the earth were round, wouldn’t the oceans flow off? Wouldn’t many of us be upside down? However, bit by bit, we began seeing phenomena that were inconsistent with the flat-earth model—the earth’s curved shadow in a lunar eclipse, ships departing over the horizon disappearing from bottom to top, and then, of course, Magellan circumnavigating the globe.” She smiled. “Oops. Time for a new model.”

Heads nodded in shared amusement.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, her voice somber, “I believe a similar evolution is now occurring in the field of human consciousness. We are about to experience a sea change in our understanding of how the brain works, the nature of consciousness, and, in fact…the very nature of reality itself.”

Nothing like aiming high, Langdon thought.

“As with all outdated beliefs,” she said, “today’s accepted model of human consciousness now finds itself challenged by a rising tide of phenomena that it simply cannot explain…phenomena that noetic labs around the world have meticulously authenticated, and that humans have witnessed for centuries. Even so, traditionalist science still refuses to deal with the existence of these phenomena or even accept they are real. Instead, they trivialize them as flukes and outliers filed under a dismissive heading—‘Paranormal’—which has become shorthand for ‘not science at all.’ ”

The comment caused several mutters from the back of the auditorium, but Katherine continued, unfazed. “In fact, you’re all quite familiar with these paranormal phenomena,” she declared. “They go by names like ESP…precognition…telepathy…clairvoyance…out-of-body experiences. Despite being deemed ‘para’-normal, they are, in fact, entirely normal. They occur every day, both in science labs with carefully controlled experiments…and also in the real world.”

The room had now fallen completely silent.

“The question is not if these phenomena are real,” Katherine said. “Science has proven they are. The question is…why do so many of us remain blind to them?”

She pressed a button, and an image materialized on the screen behind her.

The Hermann grid. Langdon recognized the well-known visual illusion in which black dots seemed to appear and disappear depending on where in the diagram you focused.

The audience began to experience the effect, and a murmur of surprise spread across the room.

“I show you this for a simple reason—to remind us that human perception is riddled with blind spots,” Katherine concluded. “Sometimes we’re so busy looking the wrong way…that we don’t see what’s right before our eyes.”

The morning sky was still pitch-dark when Langdon left the swimming center and headed back down the hill. His thirty-minute aquatic meditation had left him feeling tranquil, and his solitary walk back to the hotel was quickly becoming one of his favorite parts of his day. As he neared the river, the digital clock on the tourist information center glowed 6:52 a.m.

Plenty of time, Langdon told himself, still hoping to climb back into bed with Katherine and persuade her to cancel her 8 a.m. meeting with Brigita Gessner. The neuroscientist had essentially browbeaten Katherine into coming to her lab for a tour this morning, and Katherine had been too polite to decline.

When Langdon arrived at Charles Bridge, he saw that the smooth blanket of snow was no longer pristine, now dotted with footprints of other early risers. As he entered the bridge, Judith Tower rose on his right, the lone surviving piece of the original medieval structure. In the distance stood the “new” fourteenth-century guard tower where decapitated heads had once been displayed on spikes as a reminder to anyone who might question the Habsburgs’ rule.

They say you can still hear their moans of pain as you pass.

The word “Prague” literally meant “threshold,” and Langdon always felt like he crossed one each time he came here. For centuries, this magical city had been steeped in mysticism, ghosts, and spirits. Even today, guidebooks claimed the city had a supernatural aura that was palpable to all those who were open to it.

I’m probably not one of them, Langdon knew, although he had to admit Charles Bridge felt otherworldly this morning, with the falling snow casting spectral halos around the gaslights.

For centuries, this city had been Europe’s nexus for the occult. Prague’s King Rudolf II had secretly practiced the transmutational sciences in his underground Speculum Alchemiae. Clairvoyants John Dee and Edward Kelley had traveled here for scrying sessions to conjure spirits and converse with angels. Mysterious Jewish writer Franz Kafka was born and worked here, penning his darkly surreal The Metamorphosis.

As Langdon continued across the bridge, his eye fell on the Four Seasons Hotel in the distance, perched directly on the river, the deep waters of the Vltava lapping at its foundation. Above the glimmering surface, the second-floor windows of their suite were still dark.

Katherine’s still asleep, he thought, not at all surprised considering the nightmare that had kept her awake much of the night.

About a third of the way across the colossal bridge, Langdon passed the bronze statue of St. John of Nepomuk. Murdered on this very spot, he thought with a chill. Ordered by the king to break his vow of confessional secrecy and reveal the queen’s private confessions, the priest had refused, so the king had ordered him tortured and thrown off the bridge.

Langdon was lost in his own thoughts when his attention was drawn to an unusual sight up ahead. Approximately halfway across the bridge, a woman dressed all in black was approaching. Langdon guessed she was returning from a costume party because she was wearing an outlandish headpiece—a kind of tiara with a half-dozen slender black spikes emanating directly from her skull, fanning upward and outward, encircling her head, like a black…

Langdon felt a chill. A radiant crown?