Origin: A Novel
By Dan Brown
3.5/5
()
About this ebook
Robert Langdon, Harvard professor of symbology, arrives at the ultramodern Guggenheim Museum Bilbao to attend the unveiling of a discovery that “will change the face of science forever.” The evening’s host is Edmond Kirsch, a forty-year-old billionaire and futurist, and one of Langdon’s first students.
But the meticulously orchestrated evening suddenly erupts into chaos, and Kirsch’s precious discovery teeters on the brink of being lost forever. Facing an imminent threat, Langdon is forced to flee. With him is Ambra Vidal, the elegant museum director who worked with Kirsch. They travel to Barcelona on a perilous quest to locate a cryptic password that will unlock Kirsch’s secret.
Navigating the dark corridors of hidden history and extreme religion, Langdon and Vidal must evade an enemy whose all-knowing power seems to emanate from Spain’s Royal Palace. They uncover clues that ultimately bring them face-to-face with Kirsch’s shocking discovery…and the breathtaking truth that has long eluded us.
Dan Brown
Dan Brown is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Origin, The Da Vinci Code, Digital Fortress, Deception Point, The Lost Symbol, Angels & Demons, and Inferno. He is a graduate of Amherst College and Phillips Exeter Academy, where he spent time as an English teacher before turning his efforts to writing full-time. He lives in New England with his wife. Visit his website at DanBrown.com.
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Reviews for Origin
1,356 ratings100 reviews
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5I'm going to preface this with saying I usually love Dan Brown's book (Digital Fortress will probably always be my favorite), but this one? I didn't like it at all. I didn't like the pacing, the writing style, or the characterization. The plot twist was kind of cool, but it wasn't enough to redeem the book for me. I don't know, guys. I just couldn't get on the bandwagon for this one, though if you've read the other Robert Langdon books like I have you'll want to follow his latest adventure -- go for it. Perhaps you'll like it more than me.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5I found this to be pretty anticlimactic. It was okay, but it had none of the thrill of Brown’s previous books.
Merged review:
I found this to be pretty anticlimactic. It was okay, but it had none of the thrill of Brown’s previous books. - Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5This is my first and probably my last Dan brown novel.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Slow start but, classic Brown penchant for topical detail.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Why do I love these kinds of stories? Partly because the writing is so super tight that the critic in me only has the story to analyze, rather than the storytelling, as well.
Besides that, the dialogue is believable and rarely feels forced—-that’s a huge issue for me. Talk like real people, people!!!! So even though the content of stories like this (Brad Meltzer, etc.) is not anywhere near what I'm actually interested in in "real life", I appreciate a well-written, fast-paced book that keeps me guessing.
That said, the plot on this one was only mediocre---until the secrets were revealed---then it became super meh. Edmond's "where did we come from" is hardly believeable---his "where are we going" is spot on but nothing to be excited about. The king's secret was a big disappointment. On top of all that, I spent the entire book thinking there had to be more to Winston---he seemed too good to be true. His "secret" was the only one I figured out pretty early on.
Finally, we were annoyingly reminded of Langdon's "eidetic memory" at least 40 bazillion times.
Moving on to the good parts… I do love a book that helps me learn. Facts about museum air, Beethoven, and the "Maman" sculpture---an edition of which I've seen at our local Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art.
Then there's the whole idea of humans and technology fusing. Do writers who laud this stuff know they’re furthering an agenda to make it more palatable? Do they care? His projection was 50 years. It’s been five and here we are in clinical trials for brain chips implants. On pg. 577, Langdon says, "humanity was about to enter a period of almost unimaginable ethical ambiguity." Ethical ambiguity is inevitable when there is no standard to judge good or evil.
Favorite quotes:
"We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us." -Joseph Campbell
"There is nothing more damaging for children than the loss of hope." That's something I've had to remind myself over and over the last couple years as our world flushes itself down the toilet. I still have a responsibility to try to give them a life filled with the peace and hope of Yeshua. - Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The characterizations aren't that great, and the dialog corny, and I really didn't need to be told so many times about Langdon's "eidetic" memory, but the plot is clever and the conclusion is interesting and it was entertaining. It reminded me more of a Chrichton novel more than a Dan Brown book as the main story line was more science based than history based.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The fifth book in the Robert Langdon series, this book is a mystery-thriller set in Spain in current times. Though it is part of a series, this book can easily be read as a stand-alone. Harvard professor of symbology Robert Langdon is attending a major scientific announcement by billionaire futurist Edmond Kirsh, one of Langdon’s former students, at the Bilbao Guggenheim museum. It is reported to be of such importance that it will create a paradigm shift in the thinking on the origins of the human species and drastically impact the world’s religions. A violent event interrupts Kirsch’s presentation, sending Langdon and Ambra Vidal, the museum’s curator and future Queen of Spain, on a dramatic chase across the countryside.
Brown combines elements of science, technology, religion, and history into an entertaining and thought-provoking story. One of the most intriguing characters in the novel is Winston, an advanced artificial intelligence charged with maximizing the exposure of his creator’s scientific discovery. The reader is exposed to a wide variety of concepts, including the latest thinking in evolutionary biology, artificial intelligence, machine learning, and a host of topics espoused by such scientists as Darwin, Gould, and Hawking. It also features the art of Antoni Gaudi, the poetry of William Blake, and other real works of art and literature.
Ethical and moral questions are examined from both religious and scientific viewpoints. Contemporary issues are included – conspiracy theories, fake news, information leaking from unnamed sources, fanning the flames of disagreement in internet audiences. We have religious disputes, a traditionalist church bordering on cult, and religious leaders disappearing. At various times, suspicion falls on church leaders, the Royal Guard, and, of course, protagonist Robert Langdon.
It is somewhat formulaic in structure. If you have read others in the series, you will recognize Robert Langdon having to flee with a local woman, the primary conflict setting science against religion, and the need to solve a complex puzzle to achieve an objective. There are a few scenes that seem to be inserted solely to draw out the narrative and chase scenes across Spain. There is a major motivational issue with one significant element. Even so, it is a book that engages the brain while it entertains. - Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5After Inferno I should have known the honeymoon was over. I really did not like this book. I loved Da Vinci Code and Angels and Demons but sadly this is just bad. Lots of words; this could have been edited in half and would have been the same book, just as bad though. The reveal is super anticlimactic. The most terrifying thing from this novel came in the last chapter from the AI computer, Winston...now that would have been an interesting short story.
Is there really a disconnect of Science and Religion? Isn't Science another invention of God? Don't answer, I am not into debating this.
I do think Mr Brown is great at writing a travel log. I enjoy looking up art and architecture he describes.
I think we should let Professor Langdon retire and live in peace. (less) - Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Questions where do we come from and where are we going?
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5You, know ... it's Dan Brown. It's fun, it's easy, it's a page turner. I was interested because of my recent visit to Barcelona and seeing Gaudí's La Sagrada Familia, Casa Milà, Park Güell, etc ...
Without the Barcelona connection, I would have found Origin quite flat. - Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I was spellbound. The detail included regarding historical facts, architecture, and knowledge makes Dan Brown one of the better fiction writers of our time. This book does not disappoint.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Great plot. Robert Langdon helps Edmond Kirsch deliver a message that could change what the world believes regarding how the human race began.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5In the past I have enjoyed this series - Robert Langdon is a great character however, in this book, the story was terribly disappointing. The writing and story jumped all around, the characters didn't seem to be consistent in their beliefs and actions, and the story seened to be running along the same formula of others in the series.
This is probably my last Dan Brown book. - Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Oh, Professor Langdon, with your oft-mentioned eidetic memory, lopsided grin, and italicized thoughts...
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5Not my favorite of Dan Brown's books. Origin was stuffed full of exposition, but not of the usual fun, fact-filled kind--instead, it was just a lot of talk about the big secret to be revealed, with no new revelations along the way. The book opens with a carefully-orchestrated evening that read like a blow-by-blow of a PowerPoint slide show or a movie, which isn't very exciting to read about, and it felt like almost nothing happened for the first 100 pages. Pretty weird for an action/thriller book.
I think my biggest disappointment, which colored everything else, was how little history there was in here. I guess that's to be expected for a book centering around a futurist. I'll just have to wait for the next one.
Overall, I also just wasn't that surprised by the big reveal. The two discoveries just didn't seem to be that big of a deal to me--given that we're basically ignoring our impending extinction due to climate change, and the fantastic ability of some to ignore science, I can't imagine that they'd have that big an impact on how the world functions day to day.
I don't have a ton of time, so I'll just hit a few likes/didn't likes. Big spoilers ahead!
Liked:
>> Three cheers for the king and Valdespino. I picked up a few hints of the final reveal but dismissed them because I didn't think Brown was brave enough. I was happily surprised that turned out not to be the case! Of course, maybe a happy, chaste homosexual love story isn't so "threatening" when it's wrapped up neatly in a bury-your-gays trope. See the next point, below...
Didn't Like:
>> Valdespino lived his entire life according to his strict Catholic religious principles so as not to compromise his soul...and then committed suicide? That doesn't fit with his character at all, and I can't see any point for it to happen.
>> Ambra Vidal falls in love with Langdon literally overnight. Since Angels & Demons I've been reasonably happy with how Brown writes women, but this was just awful.
>> I was also annoyed that her infertility dates back to a childhood illness. Didn't Brown establish in Inferno that something like three quarters of the population is now infertile? (This was also ignored during the description of Kirsch's population graph--there was no dramatic population drop.)
Huh?
>> I still don't understand what was happening at the palace with all the backstabbing, arrests, leaving phones behind, king unattended, etc. Winston was behind some of it, but why? Wouldn't the king be distraction enough? Why have the captain of the guard arrested?
>> I also felt like the fact that Kirsch's changed ending to his presentation was left dangling. I thought this would turn out to be Winston's doing as well, softening the message to usher in the future...but Edmund's last minute change was never addressed. - Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5I’m honestly conflicted about this book. On the one hand, we have an interesting setup of a world-changing announcement that goes wrong. On the other hand, it’s Dan Brown writing the story.
Don’t get me wrong—Brown is a good storyteller. Do note that I didn’t say “writer” because that is seriously not his forte. He’s on top of his game this time around, telling a story that has more twists and turns than a Hindi serial on steroids. It was an absolute page-turner; I finished the book in a day, all 461 pages of it!
But that’s where the problem begins. The writing is formulaic and trite by this point. I predicted who the ‘big bad’ by the middle of the book. The red herrings were simply too obvious. In fact, it got so bad that I could predict the twist coming at least a dozen pages away. Glaring is an understatement. And let’s not forget the characters: flat, cardboard, and uninspired are just some of the words that come to mind.
Having said that, Brown still knows how to wrap art, literature, European history, architecture, and people into a compelling package. It felt like a movie script, which means it’s going to be glorious to watch. But at the same time, it will be extremely boring too. - Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5this is now my new fave Dan Brown novel! <3 highly recommend to everyone
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Not as action packed as the previous installments, not a lot of the famous Langdon code breaking. Red herrings and a couple of storylines which didn’t seem too important, especially at the end. Very intricate set up as always with real world settings and information interwoven with fiction. Slower build and burn with a less dramatic payoff. Still well written.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5It's been a long while since I've picked up a good old-fashioned potboiling pageturner. I'd forgotten how much silly fun they can be. Very much in the same vein as the earlier Robert Langdon books, so if those entertained you, this one probably will too.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Typical Dan Brown, spins a good story about religion, artificial intelligence and the age old question of evolution versus creation. Listened to audio book and was very engaging for a long drive.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Dan Brown writes some of the best series that draws you in, and this book is a great example of that.
I love the action and the emotions that come from reading this book, and I am going to read it again! - Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5This was an extremely entertaining book. I enjoyed the suspense leading up to the climax, as well as the twist ending.
The themes of the book are both right up my alley. I enjoy reading about religious thought and technology so the ideas the author touches on in this story were intriguing to me. I also like dystopian and sci-fi stories and this had a bit of both.
Most of all, I like that the ideas the author introduces are thought-provoking. Plus, I could identify with some of what Father Bena said towards the end of the novel. I've had similar thoughts myself.
There was enough foreshadowing that I started to guess who [email protected] might be before the author laid it out and I was immensely satisfied with both myself and the story. It was a page-turner and definitely worth the time. - Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Good stuff!!! Can't wait for the movie!!!
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Dan Brown is the author of The Da Vinci Code. Robert Langdon is a Harvard professor of symbology and religious iconology. His former student, Edmond Kirsch is a 40 year old billionaire, (kind of reminded me of Elon Musk) who wants to meet up with his old professor. Kirsch plans on letting Langdon in on his world changing discovery which Kirsch plans on announcing very soon. The setting is Spain and this announcement of Kirsch's discovery will challenge all the teachings of the Catholic Church, and Christianity as well. Kirsch has spent his life in pursuit of life's questions: How did we get here?, and Where are we going? Kirsch reveals his discovery to leaders of the 3 major religions; Christianity, Judaism, and Islam which initiates an assassination plot. .... This was a hard book for me to follow. First off, many of the character names were difficult for me to remember being in a different language. Second, it was boring in the middle. I skipped 15 chapters 45-60, and didn't miss anything important in the plot other than the introduction of one police character. The ending was intriguing I must say but since I believe in Creator God, I felt I was wasting my time.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Haters gonna hate but Orgin is a strong 3.5 for me... I had never read one of his books before this one but I get it now-- Dan Brown knows how to write a fast-paced, thrilling book that features more intruguing plotlines than private detectives, car chases, and big young bouncing breasts.
I attended an author event to get my copy of Origin and hear him speak and was stunned at how charming, whipsmart, and HILARIOUS he is. He took audience questions for over 30 minutes, opening himself up to the weirdness of the public. One woman, wearing a solar-eclipse-themed tie-dyed t-shirt, stood up to describe how she bought Da Vinci code on the day it came out and how enthralled she was with it, "...until the end, when they step outside the chapel in the evening," and here she dramatically slowed and raised her hand in the air, "to see Venus rising in the east." Then she paused even more dramatically in silence with her hand still raised and said, "I called your publisher the moment I read that and no one ever got back to me. But later editions, did correct that error, so maybe you got my message after all. Do you have anything to say about that?" Dan Brown's timing was perfect when he immediately replied, "When you stood up I thought, 'That's her. That's the Venus in the east lady.'" The audience howled.
The book makes a point that man fills in the science knowledge gaps with God, and I don't disagree. So anyway, I'm biased because the event was surprisingly entertaining in every way and also because I'm in love with Spain, which is like a character in this novel. He takes us to Bilbao, Madrid, Barcelona, Valle de los Caidos, and I adore these spots. A little bit of queso never hurt anyone. - Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5A few thoughts:
-If I never see the phrases “where do we come from? Where are we going?” again, it will be too soon.
-If somebody ever gifted Dan Brown with a manual of writer advice that included the concept of “show don’t tell,” Dan Brown clearly threw it out the window as fast as he did some of his plot points.
-I’m fairly certain the working title of this book was “how much can I phone it in before anyone notices oh also here’s a symbol I guess”
-Was he sponsored by FedEx? Or is it just a subtle nod to Tom Hanks as Robert Langdon and also Castaway?
-Is it just me or is this groundbreaking discovery that could destroy religion forever has extremely little do with religious world views?
-It’s a good thing he left about 70 pages after the plot ends for espousing his own views through bland character monologues, I was worried there would be more plot. - Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5This book frustrated me. It was like one big gigantic tease until the very end.
Robert Langdon is invited by his friend and prominent computer scientist Edmond Kirsch to attend the unveiling of a huge discovery that Kirsch has made. The unveiling is a huge melodramatic production that takes forever to get to the point, and before Kirsch can get to the point, chaos breaks out, and the discovery is not announced. We are now 135 pages into the book.
The rest of the book (455 more pages) is spent following Langdon and Ambra Vidal, the director of the Guggenheim Museum Bilbao where the unveiling was taking place, as they try to figure out what Kirsch's discovery was and how to make sure it gets announced to the world as originally planned.
Normally, I would not have an issue with 455 pages of this sort of plot. There can be plenty of intrigue and action and solving of mysteries. While author Dan Brown does include some interesting mystery solving scattered throughout the book -- and that's what gives this book its 3 stars -- the overall feeling of the book is that it DRAGS. A lot. Like Brown is trying to draw out the mystery of the big reveal and instead of building up suspense he just made me want to say, "Just tell it already!"
I guessed the twist at the end, but nonetheless I did like the twist. But this book would have been fine at half its length and not so drawn out. - Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Robert Langdon is at it again, solving puzzles while in peril. This time the suspense and adventure takes place in Spain. Religion, art and technology intersect in this one and the references to each made for an interesting read. I guessed the resolution about half way through, but I still enjoyed the entertaining ride!
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5I generally like the Robert Langdon series, but damn did I forget how much Dan Brown loves a good info dump. Maybe my memory is fuzzy, but it seemed to me that the random info dumps had much much less to do with the story this time. Or, maybe the story just made less cohesive sense this time. Either way, instead of a brain-candy adventure, this one turned into a confusing slog through Spanish politics and the ethics of AI. Also, the "twist" at the end isn't particularly shocking to anyone who was paying attention...and shouldn't have surprised someone as allegedly brilliant as Langdon.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Mind-expanding and fast-paced. My favorite Dan Brown book yet.
Book preview
Origin - Dan Brown
PROLOGUE
As the ancient cogwheel train clawed its way up the dizzying incline, Edmond Kirsch surveyed the jagged mountaintop above him. In the distance, built into the face of a sheer cliff, the massive stone monastery seemed to hang in space, as if magically fused to the vertical precipice.
This timeless sanctuary in Catalonia, Spain, had endured the relentless pull of gravity for more than four centuries, never slipping from its original purpose: to insulate its occupants from the modern world.
Ironically, they will now be the first to learn the truth, Kirsch thought, wondering how they would react. Historically, the most dangerous men on earth were men of God…especially when their gods became threatened. And I am about to hurl a flaming spear into a hornets’ nest.
When the train reached the mountaintop, Kirsch saw a solitary figure waiting for him on the platform. The wizened skeleton of a man was draped in the traditional Catholic purple cassock and white rochet, with a zucchetto on his head. Kirsch recognized his host’s rawboned features from photos and felt an unexpected surge of adrenaline.
Valdespino is greeting me personally.
Bishop Antonio Valdespino was a formidable figure in Spain—not only a trusted friend and counselor to the king himself, but one of the country’s most vocal and influential advocates for the preservation of conservative Catholic values and traditional political standards.
Edmond Kirsch, I assume?
the bishop intoned as Kirsch exited the train.
Guilty as charged,
Kirsch said, smiling as he reached out to shake his host’s bony hand. Bishop Valdespino, I want to thank you for arranging this meeting.
"I appreciate your requesting it. The bishop’s voice was stronger than Kirsch expected—clear and penetrating, like a bell.
It is not often we are consulted by men of science, especially one of your prominence. This way, please."
As Valdespino guided Kirsch across the platform, the cold mountain air whipped at the bishop’s cassock.
I must confess,
Valdespino said, you look different than I imagined. I was expecting a scientist, but you’re quite…
He eyed his guest’s sleek Kiton K50 suit and Barker ostrich shoes with a hint of disdain. ‘Hip,’ I believe, is the word?
Kirsch smiled politely. The word hip
went out of style decades ago.
In reading your list of accomplishments,
the bishop said, I am still not entirely sure what it is you do.
I specialize in game theory and computer modeling.
So you make the computer games that the children play?
Kirsch sensed the bishop was feigning ignorance in an attempt to be quaint. More accurately, Kirsch knew, Valdespino was a frighteningly well-informed student of technology and often warned others of its dangers. No, sir, actually game theory is a field of mathematics that studies patterns in order to make predictions about the future.
Ah yes. I believe I read that you predicted a European monetary crisis some years ago? When nobody listened, you saved the day by inventing a computer program that pulled the EU back from the dead. What was your famous quote? ‘At thirty-three years old, I am the same age as Christ when He performed His resurrection.’
Kirsch cringed. A poor analogy, Your Grace. I was young.
Young?
The bishop chuckled. And how old are you now…perhaps forty?
Just.
The old man smiled as the strong wind continued to billow his robe. "Well, the meek were supposed to inherit the earth, but instead it has gone to the young—the technically inclined, those who stare into video screens rather than into their own souls. I must admit, I never imagined I would have reason to meet the young man leading the charge. They call you a prophet, you know."
Not a very good one in your case, Your Grace,
Kirsch replied. When I asked if I might meet you and your colleagues privately, I calculated only a twenty percent chance you would accept.
And as I told my colleagues, the devout can always benefit from listening to nonbelievers. It is in hearing the voice of the devil that we can better appreciate the voice of God.
The old man smiled. I am joking, of course. Please forgive my aging sense of humor. My filters fail me from time to time.
With that, Bishop Valdespino motioned ahead. The others are waiting. This way, please.
Kirsch eyed their destination, a colossal citadel of gray stone perched on the edge of a sheer cliff that plunged thousands of feet down into a lush tapestry of wooded foothills. Unnerved by the height, Kirsch averted his eyes from the chasm and followed the bishop along the uneven cliffside path, turning his thoughts to the meeting ahead.
Kirsch had requested an audience with three prominent religious leaders who had just finished attending a conference here.
The Parliament of the World’s Religions.
Since 1893, hundreds of spiritual leaders from nearly thirty world religions had gathered in a different location every few years to spend a week engaged in interfaith dialogue. Participants included a wide array of influential Christian priests, Jewish rabbis, and Islamic mullahs from around the world, along with Hindu pujaris, Buddhist bhikkhus, Jains, Sikhs, and others.
The parliament’s self-proclaimed objective was to cultivate harmony among the world’s religions, build bridges between diverse spiritualities, and celebrate the intersections of all faith.
A noble quest, Kirsch thought, despite seeing it as an empty exercise—a meaningless search for random points of correspondence among a hodgepodge of ancient fictions, fables, and myths.
As Bishop Valdespino guided him along the pathway, Kirsch peered down the mountainside with a sardonic thought. Moses climbed a mountain to accept the Word of God…and I have climbed a mountain to do quite the opposite.
Kirsch’s motivation for climbing this mountain, he had told himself, was one of ethical obligation, but he knew there was a good dose of hubris fueling this visit—he was eager to feel the gratification of sitting face-to-face with these clerics and foretelling their imminent demise.
You’ve had your run at defining our truth.
I looked at your curriculum vitae,
the bishop said abruptly, glancing at Kirsch. I see you’re a product of Harvard University?
Undergraduate. Yes.
I see. Recently, I read that for the first time in Harvard’s history, the incoming student body consists of more atheists and agnostics than those who identify as followers of any religion. That is quite a telling statistic, Mr. Kirsch.
What can I tell you, Kirsch wanted to reply, our students keep getting smarter.
The wind whipped harder as they arrived at the ancient stone edifice. Inside the dim light of the building’s entryway, the air was heavy with the thick fragrance of burning frankincense. The two men snaked through a maze of dark corridors, and Kirsch’s eyes fought to adjust as he followed his cloaked host. Finally, they arrived at an unusually small wooden door. The bishop knocked, ducked down, and entered, motioning for his guest to follow.
Uncertain, Kirsch stepped over the threshold.
He found himself in a rectangular chamber whose high walls burgeoned with ancient leather-bound tomes. Additional freestanding bookshelves jutted out of the walls like ribs, interspersed with cast-iron radiators that clanged and hissed, giving the room the eerie sense that it was alive. Kirsch raised his eyes to the ornately balustraded walkway that encircled the second story and knew without a doubt where he was.
The famed library of Montserrat, he realized, startled to have been admitted. This sacred room was rumored to contain uniquely rare texts accessible only to those monks who had devoted their lives to God and who were sequestered here on this mountain.
You asked for discretion,
the bishop said. This is our most private space. Few outsiders have ever entered.
A generous privilege. Thank you.
Kirsch followed the bishop to a large wooden table where two elderly men sat waiting. The man on the left looked timeworn, with tired eyes and a matted white beard. He wore a crumpled black suit, white shirt, and fedora.
This is Rabbi Yehuda Köves,
the bishop said. He is a prominent Jewish philosopher who has written extensively on Kabbalistic cosmology.
Kirsch reached across the table and politely shook hands with Rabbi Köves. A pleasure to meet you, sir,
Kirsch said. I’ve read your books on Kabbala. I can’t say I understood them, but I’ve read them.
Köves gave an amiable nod, dabbing at his watery eyes with his handkerchief.
And here,
the bishop continued, motioning to the other man, "you have the respected allamah, Syed al-Fadl."
The revered Islamic scholar stood up and smiled broadly. He was short and squat with a jovial face that seemed a mismatch with his dark penetrating eyes. He was dressed in an unassuming white thawb. "And, Mr. Kirsch, I have read your predictions on the future of mankind. I can’t say I agree with them, but I have read them."
Kirsch gave a gracious smile and shook the man’s hand.
And our guest, Edmond Kirsch,
the bishop concluded, addressing his two colleagues, as you know, is a highly regarded computer scientist, game theorist, inventor, and something of a prophet in the technological world. Considering his background, I was puzzled by his request to address the three of us. Therefore, I shall now leave it to Mr. Kirsch to explain why he has come.
With that, Bishop Valdespino took a seat between his two colleagues, folded his hands, and gazed up expectantly at Kirsch. All three men faced him like a tribunal, creating an ambience more like that of an inquisition than a friendly meeting of scholars. The bishop, Kirsch now realized, had not even set out a chair for him.
Kirsch felt more bemused than intimidated as he studied the three aging men before him. So this is the Holy Trinity I requested. The Three Wise Men.
Pausing a moment to assert his power, Kirsch walked over to the window and gazed out at the breathtaking panorama below. A sunlit patchwork of ancient pastoral lands stretched across a deep valley, giving way to the rugged peaks of the Collserola mountain range. Miles beyond, somewhere out over the Balearic Sea, a menacing bank of storm clouds was now gathering on the horizon.
Fitting, Kirsch thought, sensing the turbulence he would soon cause in this room, and in the world beyond.
Gentlemen,
he commenced, turning abruptly back toward them. I believe Bishop Valdespino has already conveyed to you my request for secrecy. Before we continue, I just want to clarify that what I am about to share with you must be kept in the strictest confidence. Simply stated, I am asking for a vow of silence from all of you. Are we in agreement?
All three men gave nods of tacit acquiescence, which Kirsch knew were probably redundant anyway. They will want to bury this information—not broadcast it.
I am here today,
Kirsch began, "because I have made a scientific discovery I believe you will find startling. It is something I have pursued for many years, hoping to provide answers to two of the most fundamental questions of our human experience. Now that I have succeeded, I have come to you specifically because I believe this information will affect the world’s faithful in a profound way, quite possibly causing a shift that can only be described as, shall we say—disruptive. At the moment, I am the only person on earth who has the information I am about to reveal to you."
Kirsch reached into his suit coat and pulled out an oversized smartphone—one that he had designed and built to serve his own unique needs. The phone had a vibrantly colored mosaic case, and he propped it up before the three men like a television. In a moment, he would use the device to dial into an ultrasecure server, enter his forty-seven-character password, and live-stream a presentation for them.
What you are about to see,
Kirsch said, is a rough cut of an announcement I hope to share with the world—perhaps in a month or so. But before I do, I wanted to consult with a few of the world’s most influential religious thinkers, to gain insight into how this news will be received by those it affects most.
The bishop sighed loudly, sounding more bored than concerned. An intriguing preamble, Mr. Kirsch. You speak as if whatever you are about to show us will shake the foundations of the world’s religions.
Kirsch glanced around the ancient repository of sacred texts. It will not shake your foundations. It will shatter them.
Kirsch appraised the men before him. What they did not know was that in only three days’ time, Kirsch planned to go public with this presentation in a stunning, meticulously choreographed event. When he did, people across the world would realize that the teachings of all religions did indeed have one thing in common.
They were all dead wrong.
CHAPTER 1
Professor Robert Langdon gazed up at the forty-foot-tall dog sitting in the plaza. The animal’s fur was a living carpet of grass and fragrant flowers.
I’m trying to love you, he thought. I truly am.
Langdon pondered the creature a bit longer and then continued along a suspended walkway, descending a sprawling terrace of stairs whose uneven treads were intended to jar the arriving visitor from his usual rhythm and gait. Mission accomplished, Langdon decided, nearly stumbling twice on the irregular steps.
At the bottom of the stairs, Langdon jolted to a stop, staring at a massive object that loomed ahead.
Now I’ve seen it all.
A towering black widow spider rose before him, its slender iron legs supporting a bulbous body at least thirty feet in the air. On the spider’s underbelly hung a wire-mesh egg sac filled with glass orbs.
Her name is Maman,
a voice said.
Langdon lowered his gaze and saw a slender man standing beneath the spider. He wore a black brocade sherwani and had an almost comical curling Salvador Dalí mustache.
My name is Fernando,
he continued, and I’m here to welcome you to the museum.
The man perused a collection of name tags on a table before him. May I have your name, please?
Certainly. Robert Langdon.
The man’s eyes shot back up. Ah, I am so sorry! I did not recognize you, sir!
I barely recognize myself, Langdon thought, advancing stiffly in his white bow tie, black tails, and white waistcoat. I look like a Whiffenpoof. Langdon’s classic tails were almost thirty years old, preserved from his days as a member of the Ivy Club at Princeton, but thanks to his faithful daily regimen of swimming laps, the outfit still fit him fairly well. In Langdon’s haste to pack, he had grabbed the wrong hanging bag from his closet, leaving his usual tuxedo behind.
The invitation said black and white,
Langdon said. I trust tails are appropriate?
Tails are a classic! You look dashing!
The man scurried over and carefully pressed a name tag to the lapel of Langdon’s jacket.
It’s an honor to meet you, sir,
the mustached man said. No doubt you’ve visited us before?
Langdon gazed through the spider’s legs at the glistening building before them. Actually, I’m embarrassed to say, I’ve never been.
No!
The man feigned falling over. You’re not a fan of modern art?
Langdon had always enjoyed the challenge of modern art—primarily the exploration of why particular works were hailed as masterpieces: Jackson Pollock’s drip paintings; Andy Warhol’s Campbell’s Soup cans; Mark Rothko’s simple rectangles of color. Even so, Langdon was far more comfortable discussing the religious symbolism of Hieronymus Bosch or the brushwork of Francisco de Goya.
I’m more of a classicist,
Langdon replied. I do better with da Vinci than with de Kooning.
"But da Vinci and de Kooning are so similar!"
Langdon smiled patiently. Then I clearly have a bit to learn about de Kooning.
Well, you’ve come to the right place!
The man swung his arm toward the massive building. In this museum, you will find one of the finest collections of modern art on earth! I do hope you enjoy.
I intend to,
Langdon replied. "I only wish I knew why I’m here."
You and everyone else!
The man laughed merrily, shaking his head. "Your host has been very secretive about the purpose of tonight’s event. Not even the museum staff knows what’s happening. The mystery is half the fun of it—rumors are running wild! There are several hundred guests inside—many famous faces—and nobody has any idea what’s on the agenda tonight!"
Now Langdon grinned. Very few hosts on earth would have the bravado to send out last-minute invitations that essentially read: Saturday night. Be there. Trust me. And even fewer would be able to persuade hundreds of VIPs to drop everything and fly to northern Spain to attend the event.
Langdon walked out from beneath the spider and continued along the pathway, glancing up at an enormous red banner that billowed overhead.
AN EVENING WITH
EDMOND KIRSCH
Edmond has certainly never lacked confidence, Langdon thought, amused.
Some twenty years ago, young Eddie Kirsch had been one of Langdon’s first students at Harvard University—a mop-haired computer geek whose interest in codes had led him to Langdon’s freshman seminar: Codes, Ciphers, and the Language of Symbols. The sophistication of Kirsch’s intellect had impressed Langdon deeply, and although Kirsch eventually abandoned the dusty world of semiotics for the shining promise of computers, he and Langdon had developed a student–teacher bond that had kept them in contact over the past two decades since Kirsch’s graduation.
Now the student has surpassed his teacher, Langdon thought. By several light-years.
Today, Edmond Kirsch was a world-renowned maverick—a billionaire computer scientist, futurist, inventor, and entrepreneur. The forty-year-old had fathered an astounding array of advanced technologies that represented major leaps forward in fields as diverse as robotics, brain science, artificial intelligence, and nanotechnology. And his accurate predictions about future scientific breakthroughs had created a mystical aura around the man.
Langdon suspected that Edmond’s eerie knack for prognostication stemmed from his astoundingly broad knowledge of the world around him. For as long as Langdon could remember, Edmond had been an insatiable bibliophile—reading everything in sight. The man’s passion for books, and his capacity for absorbing their contents, surpassed anything Langdon had ever witnessed.
For the past few years, Kirsch had lived primarily in Spain, attributing his choice to an ongoing love affair with the country’s old-world charm, avant-garde architecture, eccentric gin bars, and perfect weather.
Once a year, when Kirsch returned to Cambridge to speak at the MIT Media Lab, Langdon would join him for a meal at one of the trendy new Boston hot spots that Langdon had never heard of. Their conversations were never about technology; all Kirsch ever wanted to discuss with Langdon was the arts.
You’re my culture connection, Robert,
Kirsch often joked. My own private bachelor of arts!
The playful jab at Langdon’s marital status was particularly ironic coming from a fellow bachelor who denounced monogamy as an affront to evolution
and had been photographed with a wide range of supermodels over the years.
Considering Kirsch’s reputation as an innovator in computer science, one could easily have imagined him being a buttoned-up techno-nerd. But he had instead fashioned himself into a modern pop icon who moved in celebrity circles, dressed in the latest styles, listened to arcane underground music, and collected a wide array of priceless Impressionist and modern art. Kirsch often e-mailed Langdon to get his advice on new pieces of art he was considering for his collection.
And then he would do the exact opposite, Langdon mused.
About a year ago, Kirsch had surprised Langdon by asking him not about art, but about God—an odd topic for a self-proclaimed atheist. Over a plate of short-rib crudo at Boston’s Tiger Mama, Kirsch had picked Langdon’s brain on the core beliefs of various world religions, in particular their different stories of the Creation.
Langdon gave him a solid overview of current beliefs, from the Genesis story shared by Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, all the way through the Hindu story of Brahma, the Babylonian tale of Marduk, and others.
I’m curious,
Langdon asked as they left the restaurant. Why is a futurist so interested in the past? Does this mean our famous atheist has finally found God?
Edmond let out a hearty laugh. Wishful thinking! I’m just sizing up my competition, Robert.
Langdon smiled. Typical. Well, science and religion are not competitors, they’re two different languages trying to tell the same story. There’s room in this world for both.
After that meeting, Edmond had dropped out of contact for almost a year. And then, out of the blue, three days ago, Langdon had received a FedEx envelope with a plane ticket, a hotel reservation, and a handwritten note from Edmond urging him to attend tonight’s event. It read: Robert, it would mean the world to me if you of all people could attend. Your insights during our last conversation helped make this night possible.
Langdon was baffled. Nothing about that conversation seemed remotely relevant to an event that would be hosted by a futurist.
The FedEx envelope also included a black-and-white image of two people standing face-to-face. Kirsch had written a short poem to Langdon.
Robert,
When you see me face-to-face,
I’ll reveal the empty space.
—Edmond
Langdon smiled when he saw the image—a clever allusion to an episode in which Langdon had been involved several years earlier. The silhouette of a chalice, or Grail cup, revealed itself in the empty space between the two faces.
Now Langdon stood outside this museum, eager to learn what his former student was about to announce. A light breeze ruffled his jacket tails as he moved along the concrete walkway on the bank of the meandering Nervión River, which had once been the lifeblood of a thriving industrial city. The air smelled vaguely of copper.
As Langdon rounded a bend in the pathway, he finally permitted himself to look at the massive, glimmering museum. The structure was impossible to take in at a glance. Instead, his gaze traced back and forth along the entire length of the bizarre, elongated forms.
This building doesn’t just break the rules, Langdon thought. It ignores them completely. A perfect spot for Edmond.
The Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain, looked like something out of an alien hallucination—a swirling collage of warped metallic forms that appeared to have been propped up against one another in an almost random way. Stretching into the distance, the chaotic mass of shapes was draped in more than thirty thousand titanium tiles that glinted like fish scales and gave the structure a simultaneously organic and extraterrestrial feel, as if some futuristic leviathan had crawled out of the water to sun herself on the riverbank.
When the building was first unveiled in 1997, The New Yorker hailed its architect, Frank Gehry, as having designed a fantastic dream ship of undulating form in a cloak of titanium,
while other critics around the world gushed, The greatest building of our time!
Mercurial brilliance!
An astonishing architectural feat!
Since the museum’s debut, dozens of other deconstructionist
buildings had been erected—the Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles, BMW World in Munich, and even the new library at Langdon’s own alma mater. Each featured radically unconventional design and construction, and yet Langdon doubted any of them could compete with the Bilbao Guggenheim for its sheer shock value.
As Langdon approached, the tiled facade seemed to morph with each step, offering a fresh personality from every angle. The museum’s most dramatic illusion now became visible. Incredibly, from this perspective, the colossal structure appeared to be quite literally floating on water, adrift on a vast infinity
lagoon that lapped against the museum’s outer walls.
Langdon paused a moment to marvel at the effect and then set out to cross the lagoon via the minimalist footbridge that arched over the glassy expanse of water. He was only halfway across when a loud hissing noise startled him. It was emanating from beneath his feet. He stopped short just as a swirling cloud of mist began billowing out from beneath the walkway. The thick veil of fog rose around him and then tumbled outward across the lagoon, rolling toward the museum and engulfing the base of the entire structure.
The Fog Sculpture, Langdon thought.
He had read about this work by Japanese artist Fujiko Nakaya. The sculpture
was revolutionary in that it was constructed out of the medium of visible air, a wall of fog that materialized and dissipated over time; and because the breezes and atmospheric conditions were never identical one day to the next, the sculpture was different every time it appeared.
The bridge stopped hissing, and Langdon watched the wall of fog settle silently across the lagoon, swirling and creeping as if it had a mind of its own. The effect was both ethereal and disorienting. The entire museum now appeared to be hovering over the water, resting weightlessly on a cloud—a ghost ship lost at sea.
Just as Langdon was about to set out again, the tranquil surface of the water was shattered by a series of small eruptions. Suddenly five flaming pillars of fire shot skyward out of the lagoon, thundering steadily like rocket engines that pierced the mist-laden air and threw brilliant bursts of light across the museum’s titanium tiles.
Langdon’s own architectural taste tended more to the classical stylings of museums like the Louvre or the Prado, and yet as he watched the fog and flame hover above the lagoon, he could think of no place more suitable than this ultramodern museum to host an event thrown by a man who loved art and innovation, and who glimpsed the future so clearly.
Now, walking through the mist, Langdon pressed on to the museum’s entrance—an ominous black hole in the reptilian structure. As he neared the threshold, Langdon had the uneasy sense that he was entering the mouth of a dragon.
CHAPTER 2
Navy admiral Luis Ávila was seated on a bar stool inside a deserted pub in an unfamiliar town. He was drained from his journey, having just flown into this city after a job that had taken him many thousands of miles in twelve hours. He took a sip of his second tonic water and stared at the colorful array of bottles behind the bar.
Any man can stay sober in a desert, he mused, but only the loyal can sit in an oasis and refuse to part his lips.
Ávila had not parted his lips for the devil in almost a year. As he eyed his reflection in the mirrored bar, he permitted himself a rare moment of contentment with the image looking back at him.
Ávila was one of those fortunate Mediterranean men for whom aging seemed to be more an asset than a liability. Over the years, his stiff black stubble had softened to a distinguished salt-and-pepper beard, his fiery dark eyes had relaxed to a serene confidence, and his taut olive skin was now sun-drenched and creased, giving him the aura of a man permanently squinting out to sea.
Even at sixty-three years old, his body was lean and toned, an impressive physique further enhanced by his tailored uniform. At the moment, Ávila was clothed in his full-dress navy whites—a regal-looking livery consisting of a double-breasted white jacket, broad black shoulder boards, an imposing array of service medals, a starched white standing-collar shirt, and silk-trimmed white slacks.
The Spanish Armada may not be the most potent navy on earth anymore, but we still know how to dress an officer.
The admiral had not donned this uniform in years—but this was a special night, and earlier, as he walked the streets of this unknown town, he had enjoyed the favorable looks of women as well as the wide berth afforded him by men.
Everyone respects those who live by a code.
¿Otra tónica?
the pretty barmaid asked. She was in her thirties, was full-figured, and had a playful smile.
Ávila shook his head. No, gracias.
This pub was entirely empty, and Ávila could feel the barmaid’s eyes admiring him. It felt good to be seen again. I have returned from the abyss.
The horrific event that all but destroyed Ávila’s life five years ago would forever lurk in the recesses of his mind—a single deafening instant in which the earth had opened up and swallowed him whole.
Cathedral of Seville.
Easter morning.
The Andalusian sun was streaming through stained glass, splashing kaleidoscopes of color in radiant bursts across the cathedral’s stone interior. The pipe organ thundered in joyous celebration as thousands of worshippers celebrated the miracle of resurrection.
Ávila knelt at the Communion rail, his heart swelling with gratitude. After a lifetime of service to the sea, he had been blessed with the greatest of God’s gifts—a family. Smiling broadly, Ávila turned and glanced back over his shoulder at his young wife, María, who was still seated in the pews, far too pregnant to make the long walk up the aisle. Beside her, their three-year-old son, Pepe, waved excitedly at his father. Ávila winked at the boy, and María smiled warmly at her husband.
Thank you, God, Ávila thought as he turned back to the railing to accept the chalice.
An instant later, a deafening explosion ripped through the pristine cathedral.
In a flash of light, his entire world erupted in fire.
The blast wave drove Ávila violently forward into the Communion rail, his body crushed by the scalding surge of debris and human body parts. When Ávila regained consciousness, he was unable to breathe in the thick smoke, and for a moment he had no idea where he was or what had happened.
Then, above the ringing in his ears, he heard the anguished screams. Ávila clambered to his feet, realizing with horror where he was. He told himself this was all a terrible dream. He staggered back through the smoke-filled cathedral, clambering past moaning and mutilated victims, stumbling in desperation to the approximate area where his wife and son had been smiling only moments ago.
There was nothing there.
No pews. No people.
Only bloody debris on the charred stone floor.
The grisly memory was mercifully shattered by the chime of the jangling bar door. Ávila seized his tónica and took a quick sip, shaking off the darkness as he had been forced to do so many times before.
The bar door swung wide, and Ávila turned to see two burly men stumble in. They were singing an off-key Irish fight song and wearing green fútbol jerseys that strained to cover their bellies. Apparently, this afternoon’s match had gone the way of Ireland’s visiting team.
I’ll take that as my cue, Ávila thought, standing up. He asked for his bill, but the barmaid winked and waved him off. Ávila thanked her and turned to go.
Bloody hell!
one of the newcomers shouted, staring at Ávila’s stately uniform. It’s the king of Spain!
Both men erupted with laughter, lurching toward him.
Ávila attempted to step around them and leave, but the larger man roughly grabbed his arm and pulled him back to a bar stool. Hold on, Your Highness! We came all the way to Spain; we’re gonna have a pint with the king!
Ávila eyed the man’s grubby hand on his freshly pressed sleeve. Let go,
he said quietly. I need to leave.
"No…you need to stay for a beer, amigo. The man tightened his grip as his friend started poking with a dirty finger at the medals on Ávila’s chest.
Looks like you’re quite a hero, Pops. The man tugged on one of Ávila’s most prized emblems.
A medieval mace? So, you’re a knight in shining armor?!" He guffawed.
Tolerance, Ávila reminded himself. He had met countless men like these—simpleminded, unhappy souls, who had never stood for anything, men who blindly abused the liberties and freedoms that others had fought to give them.
Actually,
Ávila replied gently, the mace is the symbol of the Spanish navy’s Unidad de Operaciones Especiales.
Special ops?
The man feigned a fearful shudder. "That’s very impressive. And what about that symbol?" He pointed to Ávila’s right hand.
Ávila glanced down at his palm. In the center of the soft flesh was inscribed a black tattoo—a symbol that dated back to the fourteenth century.
This marking serves as my protection, Ávila thought, eyeing the emblem. Although I will not need it.
Never mind,
the hooligan said, finally letting go of Ávila’s arm and turning his attention to the barmaid. You’re a cute one,
he said. Are you a hundred percent Spanish?
I am,
she answered graciously.
You don’t have some Irish in you?
No.
"Would you like some?" The man convulsed in hysterics and pounded the bar.
Leave her alone,
Ávila commanded.
The man wheeled, glaring at him.
The second thug poked Ávila hard in the chest. You trying to tell us what to do?
Ávila took a deep breath, feeling tired after this day’s long journey, and he motioned to the bar. Gentlemen, please sit down. I’ll buy you a beer.
—
I’m glad he’s staying, the barmaid thought. Although she could take care of herself, witnessing how calmly this officer was dealing with these two brutes had left her a little weak-kneed and hoping he might stay until closing time.
The officer had ordered two beers, and another tonic water for himself, reclaiming his seat at the bar. The two fútbol hooligans sat on either side of him.
Tonic water?
one taunted. "I thought we were drinking together."
The officer gave the barmaid a tired smile and finished his tonic.
I’m afraid I have an appointment,
the officer said, standing up. But enjoy your beers.
As he stood, both men, as if rehearsed, slammed rough hands on his shoulders and shoved him back onto the stool. A spark of anger flashed across the officer’s eyes and then disappeared.
Grandpa, I don’t think you want to leave us alone with your girlfriend here.
The thug looked at her and did something disgusting with his tongue.
The officer sat quietly for a long moment, and then reached into his jacket.
Both guys grabbed him. Hey! What are you doing?!
Very slowly, the officer pulled out a cell phone and said something to the men in Spanish. They stared at him uncomprehendingly, and he switched back to English. I’m sorry, I just need to call my wife and tell her I’ll be late. It looks like I’m going to be here awhile.
Now you’re talking, mate!
the larger of the two said, draining his beer and slamming the glass down on the bar. Another!
As the barmaid refilled the thugs’ glasses, she watched in the mirror as the officer touched a few keys on his phone and then held it to his ear. The call went through, and he spoke in rapid Spanish.
Le llamo desde el bar Molly Malone,
the officer said, reading the bar’s name and address off the coaster before him. Calle Particular de Estraunza, ocho.
He waited a moment and then continued. Necesitamos ayuda inmediatamente. Hay dos hombres heridos.
Then he hung up.
¿Dos hombres heridos? The barmaid’s pulse quickened. Two wounded men?
Before she could process his meaning, there was a blur of white, and the officer spun to his right, sending an elbow smashing upward into the larger thug’s nose with a sickening crunch. The man’s face erupted in red and he fell back. Before the second man could react, the officer spun again, this time to his left, his other elbow crashing hard into the man’s windpipe and sending him backward off the stool.
The barmaid stared in shock at the two men on the floor, one screaming in agony, the other gasping and clutching his throat.
The officer stood slowly. With an eerie calm, he removed his wallet and placed a hundred-euro note on the bar.
My apologies,
he said to her in Spanish. The police will be here shortly to help you.
Then he turned and left.
—
Outside, Admiral Ávila inhaled the night air and made his way along Alameda de Mazarredo toward the river. Police sirens approached, and he slipped into the shadows to let the authorities pass. There was serious work to do, and Ávila could not afford further complications tonight.
The Regent clearly outlined tonight’s mission.
For Ávila, there was a simple serenity in taking orders from the Regent. No decisions. No culpability. Just action. After a career of giving commands, it was a relief to relinquish the helm and let others steer this ship.
In this war, I am a foot soldier.
Several days ago, the Regent had shared with him a secret so disturbing that Ávila had seen no choice but to offer himself fully to the cause. The brutality of last night’s mission still haunted him, and yet he knew his actions would be forgiven.
Righteousness exists in many forms.
And more death will come before tonight is over.
As Ávila emerged into an open plaza on the riverbank, he raised his eyes to the massive structure before him. It was an undulating mess of perverse forms covered in metal tile—as if two thousand years of architectural progress had been tossed out the window in favor of total chaos.
Some call this a museum. I call it a monstrosity.
Focusing his thoughts, Ávila crossed the plaza, winding his way through a series of bizarre sculptures outside Bilbao’s Guggenheim Museum. As he neared the building, he watched dozens of guests mingling in their finest black and white.
The godless masses have congregated.
But tonight will not go as any of them imagine.
He straightened his admiral’s cap and smoothed his jacket, mentally fortifying himself for the task that lay ahead. Tonight was part of a far greater mission—a crusade of righteousness.
As Ávila crossed the courtyard toward the museum’s entrance, he gently touched the rosary in his pocket.
CHAPTER 3
The museum atrium felt like a futuristic cathedral.
As Langdon stepped inside, his gaze shifted immediately skyward, climbing a set of colossal white pillars along a towering curtain of glass, ascending two hundred feet to a vaulted ceiling, where halogen spotlights blazed pure white light. Suspended in the air, a network of catwalks and balconies traversed the heavens, dotted with black-and-white-clad visitors who moved in and out of the upper galleries and stood at high windows, admiring the lagoon below. Nearby, a glass elevator slid silently back down the wall, returning to earth to collect more guests.
It was like no museum Langdon had ever seen. Even the acoustics felt foreign. Instead of the traditional reverent hush created by sound-dampening finishes, this place was alive with murmuring echoes of voices percolating off the stone and glass. For Langdon, the only familiar sensation was the sterile tang on the back of his tongue; museum air was the same worldwide—filtered meticulously of all particulates and oxidants and then moistened with ionized water to 45 percent humidity.
Langdon moved through a series of surprisingly tight security points, noticing more than a few armed guards, and finally found himself standing at another check-in table. A young woman was handing out headsets. Audioguía?
Langdon smiled. No, thank you.
As he neared the table, though, the woman stopped him, switching to perfect English. I’m sorry, sir, but our host tonight, Mr. Edmond Kirsch, has asked that everyone wear a headset. It’s part of the evening’s experience.
Oh, of course, I’ll take one.
Langdon reached for a headset, but she waved him off, checking his name tag against a long list of guests, finding his name, and then handing him a headset whose number was matched with his name. The tours tonight are customized for each individual visitor.
Really? Langdon looked around. There are hundreds of guests.
Langdon eyed the headset, which was nothing but a sleek loop of metal with tiny pads at each end. Perhaps seeing his puzzled look, the young woman came around to help him.
These are quite new,
she said, helping him don the device. "The transducer pads don’t go inside your ears, but rather rest on your face." She placed the loop behind his head and positioned the pads so that they gently clamped onto his face, just above the jawbone and below the temple.
But how—
Bone conduction technology. The transducers drive sound directly into the bones of your jaw, allowing sound to reach your cochlea directly. I tried it earlier, and it’s really quite amazing—like having a voice inside your head. What’s more, it leaves your ears free to have outside conversations.
Very clever.
The technology was invented by Mr. Kirsch more than a decade ago. It’s now available in many brands of consumer headphones.
I hope Ludwig van Beethoven gets his cut, Langdon thought, fairly certain that the original inventor of bone conduction technology was the eighteenth-century composer who, upon going deaf, discovered he could affix a metal rod to his piano and bite down on it while he played, enabling him to hear perfectly through vibrations in his jawbone.
We hope you enjoy your tour experience,
the woman said. You have about an hour to explore the museum before the presentation. Your audio guide will alert you when it is time to go upstairs to the auditorium.
Thank you. Do I need to press anything to—
No, the device is self-activating. Your guided tour will begin as soon as you start moving.
Ah yes, of course,
Langdon said with a smile. He headed out across the atrium, moving toward a scattering of other guests, all waiting for the elevators and wearing similar headsets pressed to their jawbones.
He was only halfway across the atrium when a male voice sounded in his head. Good evening and welcome to the Guggenheim in Bilbao.
Langdon knew it was his headset, but he still stopped short and looked behind him. The effect was startling—precisely as the young woman had described—like having someone inside your head.
A most heartfelt welcome to you, Professor Langdon.
The voice was friendly and light, with a jaunty British accent. My name is Winston, and I’m honored to be your guide this evening.
Who did they get to record this—Hugh Grant?
Tonight,
the cheery voice continued, you may feel free to meander as you wish, anywhere you like, and I’ll endeavor to enlighten you as to what it is you’re viewing.
Apparently, in addition to a chirpy narrator, personalized recordings, and bone conduction technology, each headset was equipped with GPS to discern precisely where in the museum the visitor was standing and therefore what commentary to generate.
I do realize, sir,
the voice added, "that as a professor of art, you are one of our more savvy guests, and so perhaps you will have little need of my input. Worse yet, it is possible