Page 63 of The Secret of Secrets (Robert Langdon #6)
Langdon hurried along the sidewalk toward the Klementinum, his eyes scanning the sparse crowd for any sign of Katherine. A cold wind was whipping around him once again as he aimed for the museum’s astronomical tower, which was visible above the other buildings less than a kilometer away.
He passed the opulent Mozart Prague hotel, where Wolfgang himself had played numerous private concerts, and he recalled once having witnessed its pale facade magically transformed into towering staves of sheet music that scrolled past in synch with an amplified recording of Eine kleine Nachtmusik.
Every October, Prague hosted the Signal Festival, a week during which architectural landmarks were converted into canvases using light projection and video mapping.
Langdon’s favorite had been a soaring projection on the Archbishop’s Palace depicting the origin and evolution of species—an irony that mirrored Prague’s unflinching affinity for avant-garde artistry.
As he passed the hotel, Langdon’s gait slowed suddenly, his eyes drawn to an advertising kiosk in a tiny park.
The poster depicted a futuristic army of soldiers marching across a desolate planet.
Above the armed warriors hung a single word whose appearance at this instant felt jarringly coincidental.
Halo.
Is the universe taunting me?
This ominous poster, of course, was not referencing a radiant symbol of the enlightened mind but rather a hugely popular computer game series, which, according to Langdon’s students, had cleverly appropriated the cultural resonance of Christianity by incorporating biblical terms like the Covenant, the Ark, the Prophets, and the Flood, along with a tapestry of erudite religious references.
“Sounds like I might like it,” Langdon had told his class.
“You won’t,” quipped a student. “Brutes with manglers would kill you instantly.”
Langdon had no idea what he meant but decided to stick with online backgammon.
Nonetheless, at this moment, here in Prague, the appearance of the word halo felt like an eerily timed allusion to Katherine. He was uncertain whether to take this as a good omen or a foreboding one, considering they had just discussed the topic two days earlier.
“Halos are entirely misunderstood,” she had said.
“They have always been imagined as radiant streams of light encircling the head and depicting energy flowing out of an enlightened mind. But I believe we are interpreting halos in reverse. Those rays represent beams of consciousness …flowing in …not out. To say someone has an ‘enlightened mind’ is simply another way of saying they have a ‘better receiver.’?”
Langdon had studied halos as prominent religious symbols for many years, and yet he had never considered them in the way Katherine had just expressed.
Like most people, he had always viewed halos as radiating outward.
The reverse interpretation felt disorienting.
He had to admit, however, that the Bible invariably described prophets as receiving divine wisdom from God… never formulating or broadcasting it.
In Acts 9, the Apostle Paul’s conversion on the road to Damascus was described as the result of a burst of energy received from heaven.
In Acts 2, the Holy Spirit flowed into the apostles and gave them the instantaneous power to speak in multiple languages so they could preach the gospel. Sudden savant syndrome?
The symbol of the halo was widely associated with Christianity, but Langdon knew there were many earlier versions—from Mithraism, Buddhism, and Zoroastrianism—that portrayed rays of energy around their subjects.
When Christianity adopted the symbol of the halo, the rays were gradually removed in favor of a simple disk hovering over one’s head.
Thus, an important symbolic element of the halo had been lost to history, and Katherine believed that the lost version might confirm a forgotten understanding and ancient wisdom…
the lost understanding of what had now become nonlocal consciousness theory.
The brain is a receiver…and consciousness flows in, not out.
“You still can’t quite believe the concept, can you?” she had challenged playfully. “You’re waiting for some kind of proof that your brain is a receiver.”
Langdon considered it. Scientific models were never proven in any kind of absolute sense.
They gained acceptance by consistently explaining and predicting observations better than alternative models.
Katherine’s concept was convincing and also could explain many anomalies like ESP, out-of-body experiences, and sudden savant syndrome.
“If you ask me,” Katherine said, “your eidetic memory should be proof enough, Robert. I know you believe your brain has stored every single image you’ve ever seen.
But full photographic recall is a physical impossibility.
Your lifetime of vivid image data would fill a warehouse, even using the most advanced digital storage methods, and yet you can still recall that data perfectly.
The truth is, the human brain—even your brain—is physically far too small to hold that much information. ”
Langdon’s attention was piqued. “You’re saying our memories function like cloud computing? All of our memory data are sitting elsewhere …waiting for us to access them.”
“ Exactly. Your eidetic brain simply has a superior mechanism for reaching out and grabbing data. Your receiver is sophisticated and highly tuned to accessing images. ” She smiled. “But maybe a bit less tuned to accessing faith and trust.”
Langdon laughed. “Well, I have faith in you, and I trust that soon you’ll share your scientific experiments…and explain to me exactly what you’ve discovered.”
“Nice try, Professor,” she said. “But you’ll have to wait and read the book.”