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“Okay,” the host said, looking unsettled, “but if someone discovered proof that humans came from a seedpod sent from space, then that means we’re not alone in the universe.” She paused. “But also, far more incredibly …”
“Yes?” Dr. Bennett smiled for the first time.
“It means whoever sent the pods would have to be … like us … human!”
“Yes, my first conclusion as well.” The scientist paused. “Then Edmond set me straight. He pointed out the fallacy in that thinking.”
This caught the host off guard. “So Edmond’s belief was that whoever sent these ‘seeds’ was not human? How could that be, if the seeds were, so to speak, ‘recipes’ for human propagation?”
“Humans are half-baked,” the scientist replied, “to use Edmond’s exact words.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Edmond said that if this seedpod theory were true, then the recipe that was sent to earth is probably only half-baked at the moment—not yet finished—meaning humans are not the ‘final product’ but instead just a transitional species evolving toward something else … something alien.”
The CNN anchor looked bewildered.
“Any advanced life-form, Edmond argued, would not send a recipe for humans any more than they would send a recipe for chimpanzees.” The scientist chuckled. “In fact, Edmond accused me of being a closet Christian—joking that only a religious mind could believe that mankind is the center of the universe. Or that aliens would airmail fully formed ‘Adam and Eve’ DNA into the cosmos.”
“Well, Doctor,” the host said, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the interview was taking. “It’s certainly been enlightening speaking with you. Thank you for your time.”
The segment ended, and Ambra immediately turned to Langdon. “Robert, if Edmond discovered proof that humans are a half-evolved alien species, then it raises an even bigger issue—what exactly are we evolving into?”
“Yes,” Langdon said. “And I believe Edmond phrased that issue in a slightly different way—as a question: Where are we going?”
Ambra looked startled to have come full circle. “Edmond’s second question from tonight’s presentation.”
“Precisely. Where do we come from? Where are we going? Apparently, the NASA scientist we’ve just watched thinks Edmond looked to the heavens and found answers to both questions.”
“What do you think, Robert? Is this what Edmond discovered?”
Langdon could feel his brow furrow with doubt as he weighed the possibilities. The scientist’s theory, while exciting, seemed far too general and otherworldly for the acute thinking of Edmond Kirsch. Edmond liked things simple, clean, and technical. He was a computer scientist. More importantly, Langdon could not imagine how Edmond would prove such a theory. Unearth an ancient seedpod? Detect an alien transmission? Both discoveries would have been instantaneous breakthroughs, but Edmond’s discovery had taken time.
Edmond said he had been working on it for months.
“Obviously, I don’t know,” Langdon told Ambra, “but my gut tells me Edmond’s discovery has nothing to do with extraterrestrial life. I really believe he discovered something else entirely.”
Ambra looked surprised, and then intrigued. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.” She motioned out the window.
In front of them shone the glimmering spires of Sagrada Família.
CHAPTER 64
BISHOP VALDESPINO STOLE another quick glance at Julián, who was still staring blankly out the window of the Opel sedan as it sped along Highway M-505.
What is he thinking? Valdespino wondered.
The prince had been silent for nearly thirty minutes, barely moving except for the occasional reflexive reach into his pocket for his phone, only to realize that he had locked it in his wall safe.
I need to keep him in the dark, Valdespino thought, just a bit longer.
In the front seat, the acolyte from the cathedral was still driving in the direction of Casita del Príncipe, although Valdespino soon would need to inform him that the prince’s retreat was not their destination at all.
Julián turned suddenly from the window, tapping the acolyte on the shoulder. “Please turn on the radio,” he said. “I’d like to hear the news.”
Before the young man could comply, Valdespino leaned forward and placed a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Let’s just sit quietly, shall we?”
Julián turned to the bishop, clearly displeased at having been overridden.
“I’m sorry,” Valdespino said at once, sensing a growing distrust in the prince’s eyes. “It’s late. All that chatter. I prefer silent reflection.”
“I’ve been doing some reflecting,” Julián said, his voice sharp, “and I’d like to know what’s going on in my country. We’ve entirely isolated ourselves tonight, and I’m starting to wonder if it was a good idea.”
“It is a good idea,” Valdespino assured him, “and I appreciate the trust you’ve shown me.” He removed his hand from the acolyte’s shoulder and motioned to the radio. “Please turn on the news. Perhaps Radio María España?” Valdespino hoped the worldwide Catholic station would be gentler and more tactful than most media outlets had been about tonight’s troubling developments.
When the newscaster’s voice came over the cheap car speakers, he was discussing Edmond Kirsch’s presentation and assassination. Every station in the world is talking about this tonight. Valdespino just hoped his own name would not come up as part of the broadcast.
