Origin: (Robert Langdon Book 5) Read online

  “In the mountains. Outside the basilica at the Valley of the Fallen. I just met with Prince Julián and His Majesty the king.”

  Garza could not imagine what the king was doing at the Valley of the Fallen at this hour, particularly given his condition. “I assume you know the king had me arrested?”

  “Yes. It was a regrettable error, which we have remedied.”

  Garza looked down at his unmanacled wrists.

  “His Majesty asked me to call and extend his apologies. I will be watching over him here at the Hospital El Escorial. I’m afraid his time is drawing to a close.”

  As is yours, Garza thought. “You should be advised that Suresh found a text on your phone—quite an incriminatory one. I believe the ConspiracyNet.com website plans to release it soon. I suspect the authorities will come to arrest you.”

  Valdespino sighed deeply. “Yes, the text. I should have sought you out the instant it arrived this morning. Please trust me when I tell you that I had nothing to do with Edmond Kirsch’s murder, nor with the deaths of my two colleagues.”

  “But the text clearly implicates you—”

  “I’m being framed, Diego,” the bishop interrupted. “Someone has gone to great lengths to make me look complicit.”

  Although Garza had never imagined Valdespino capable of murder, the notion of someone framing him made little sense. “Who would try to frame you?”

  “That I don’t know,” the bishop said, sounding suddenly very old and bewildered. “I’m not sure it matters anymore. My reputation has been destroyed; my dearest friend, the king, is close to death; and there is not much more this night can take from me.” There was an eerie finality to Valdespino’s tone.

  “Antonio … are you okay?”

  Valdespino sighed. “Not really, Commander. I am tired. I doubt I will survive the coming investigation. And even if I do, the world seems to have outgrown its need for me.”

  Garza could hear the heartbreak in the old bishop’s voice.

  “A tiny favor, if I may,” Valdespino added. “At the moment, I am trying to serve two kings—one leaving his throne, the other ascending to it. Prince Julián has been attempting all night to connect with his fiancée. If you could find a way to reach Ambra Vidal, our future king would be forever in your debt.”

  On the sprawling plaza outside the mountain church, Bishop Valdespino gazed down over the darkened Valley of the Fallen. A predawn mist was already creeping up the pine-studded ravines, and somewhere in the distance the shrill call of a bird of prey pierced the night.

  Monk vulture, Valdespino thought, oddly amused by the sound. The bird’s plaintive wail seemed eerily appropriate at the moment, and the bishop wondered if perhaps the world was trying to tell him something.

  Nearby, Guardia agents were wheeling the wearied king to his vehicle for transport back to the Hospital El Escorial.

  I will come watch over you, my friend, the bishop thought. That is, if they permit me.

  The Guardia agents glanced up repeatedly from the glow of their cell phones, their eyes continually returning to Valdespino, as if they suspected they would soon be called upon to make his arrest.

  And yet I am innocent, the bishop thought, secretly suspecting he had been set up by one of Kirsch’s godless tech-savvy followers. The growing community of atheists enjoys nothing more than casting the Church in the role of the villain.

  Deepening the bishop’s suspicion was news he had just heard about Kirsch’s presentation tonight. Unlike the video Kirsch had played for Valdespino in the Montserrat library, it seemed tonight’s version had ended on a hopeful note.

  Kirsch tricked us.

  A week ago, the presentation Valdespino and his colleagues had watched had been stopped prematurely … ending with a terrifying graphic that predicted the extermination of all humans.

  A cataclysmic annihilation.

  The long-prophesied apocalypse.

  Even though Valdespino believed the prediction to be a lie, he knew that countless people would accept it as proof of impending doom.

  Throughout history, fearful believers had fallen prey to apocalyptic prophecies; doomsday cults committed mass suicide to avoid the coming horrors, and devout fundamentalists ran up credit card debt believing the end was near.

  There is nothing more damaging for children than the loss of hope, Valdespino thought, recalling how the combination of God’s love and the promise of heaven had been the most uplifting force in his own childhood. I was created by God, he had learned as a child, and one day I will live forever in God’s kingdom.

  Kirsch had proclaimed the opposite: I am a cosmic accident, and soon I will be dead.

  Valdespino had been deeply concerned about the damage Kirsch’s message would do to the poor souls who did not enjoy the futurist’s wealth and privilege—those who struggled daily just to eat or to provide for their children, those who required a glimmer of divine hope just to get out of bed every day and face their difficult lives.

  Why Kirsch would show the clerics an apocalyptic ending remained a mystery to Valdespino. Perhaps Kirsch was merely trying to protect his big surprise, he thought. Or else he simply wanted to torture us a bit.

  Either way, the damage had been done.

  Valdespino gazed across the plaza and watched Prince Julián lovingly assist his father into the van. The young prince had handled the king’s confession remarkably well.

  His Majesty’s decades-old secret.

  Bishop Valdespino, of course, had known the king’s dangerous truth for years and had scrupulously protected it. Tonight, the king had decided to bare his soul to his only son. By choosing to do it here—within this mountaintop shrine to intolerance—the king had performed an act of symbolic defiance.

  Now, as Valdespino gazed down into the deep ravine below, he felt deathly alone … as if he could simply step off the edge and fall forever into the welcoming darkness. He knew if he did, however, Kirsch’s band of atheists would gleefully declare that Valdespino had lost his faith in the wake of tonight’s scientific announcement.

  My faith will never die, Mr. Kirsch.

  It dwells beyond your realm of science.

  Besides, if Kirsch’s prophecy about technology’s takeover were true, humanity was about to enter a period of almost unimaginable ethical ambiguity.

  We will need faith and moral guidance now more than ever.

  As Valdespino walked back across the plaza to join the king and Prince Julián, an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion settled deep within his bones.

  At that moment, for the first time in his life, Bishop Valdespino wanted simply to lie down, close his eyes, and fall asleep forever.

  CHAPTER 98

  INSIDE THE BARCELONA Supercomputing Center, a stream of commentary flowed across Edmond’s display wall faster than Robert Langdon could process it. Moments ago, the screen of static had given way to a chaotic mosaic of talking heads and newscasters—a rapid-fire assault of clips from around the world—each one blossoming out of the matrix to take center stage, and then just as quickly dissolving back into the white noise.

  Langdon stood beside Ambra as a photo of physicist Stephen Hawking materialized on the wall, his unmistakable computerized voice proclaiming, “It is not necessary to invoke God to set the universe going. Spontaneous creation is the reason there is something rather than nothing.”

  Hawking was replaced just as quickly by a female priest, apparently broadcasting from her home via computer. “We must remember that these simulations prove nothing about God. They prove only that Edmond Kirsch will stop at nothing to destroy the moral compass of our species. Since the beginning of time, world religions have been humanity’s most important organizing principle, a road map for civilized society, and our original source of ethics and morality. By undermining religion, Kirsch is undermining human goodness!”

  Seconds later, a viewer’s response text crawled across the bottom of the screen: RELIGION CANNOT CLAIM MORALITY AS ITS OWN … I AM A GOOD PERSON
BECAUSE I AM A GOOD PERSON! GOD HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH IT!

  That image was replaced by one of a USC geology professor. “Once upon a time,” the man was saying, “humans believed that the earth was flat and ships venturing across the seas risked sailing off the edge. However, when we proved that the earth was round, the flat-earth advocates were eventually silenced. Creationists are today’s flat-earth advocates, and I would be shocked if anyone still believes in Creationism a hundred years from now.”

  A young man interviewed on the street declared to the camera: “I am a Creationist, and I believe that tonight’s discovery proves that a benevolent Creator designed the universe specifically to support life.”

  Astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson—appearing in an old clip from the Cosmos television show—declared good-naturedly, “If a Creator designed our universe to support life, he did a terrible job. In the vast, vast majority of the cosmos, life would die instantly from lack of atmosphere, gamma-ray bursts, deadly pulsars, and crushing gravitational fields. Believe me, the universe is no Garden of Eden.”

  Listening to the onslaught, Langdon felt as if the world outside were suddenly spinning off its axis.

  Chaos.

  Entropy.

  “Professor Langdon?” A familiar British voice spoke from the speaker overhead. “Ms. Vidal?”

  Langdon had almost forgotten about Winston, who had fallen silent during the presentation.

  “Please don’t be alarmed,” Winston continued. “But I’ve let the police into the building.”

  Langdon looked through the glass wall and saw a stream of local authorities entering the sanctuary, all of them stopping short and staring up at the massive computer in disbelief.

  “Why?!” Ambra demanded.

  “The Royal Palace has just issued a statement saying that you were not kidnapped after all. The authorities now have orders to protect you both, Ms. Vidal. Two Guardia agents have just arrived as well. They would like to help you make contact with Prince Julián. They have a number where you can reach him.”

  On the ground floor, Langdon saw two Guardia agents now entering.

  Ambra closed her eyes, clearly wanting to disappear.

  “Ambra,” Langdon whispered. “You need to talk to the prince. He’s your fiancé. He’s worried about you.”

  “I know.” She opened her eyes. “I just don’t know if I trust him anymore.”

  “You said your gut feeling was that he’s innocent,” Langdon said. “At least hear him out. I’ll find you when you’re done.”

  Ambra gave a nod and headed toward the revolving door. Langdon watched her disappear down the stairs, and then he turned back to the display wall, which continued to blare.

  “Evolution favors religion,” a minister was saying. “Religious communities cooperate better than nonreligious communities and therefore flourish more readily. This is a scientific fact!”

  The minister was correct, Langdon knew. Anthropological data clearly showed that cultures practicing religions historically had outlived non-religious cultures. Fear of being judged by an omniscient deity always helps inspire benevolent behavior.

  “Be that as it may,” a scientist countered, “even if we assume for a moment that religious cultures are better behaved and more likely to thrive, that does not prove their imaginary gods are real!”

  Langdon had to smile, wondering what Edmond would make of all this. His presentation had vigorously mobilized both atheists and Creationists alike—all of them now shouting for equal time in a heated dialogue.

  “Worshipping God is like mining for fossil fuels,” someone argued. “Plenty of smart people know it is shortsighted, and yet they have too much invested to stop!”

  A flurry of old photographs now flashed across the wall:

  A Creationist billboard that once hung over Times Square: DON’T LET THEM MAKE A MONKEY OUT OF YOU! FIGHT DARWIN!

  A road sign in Maine: SKIP CHURCH. YOU’RE TOO OLD FOR FAIRY TALES.

  And another: RELIGION: BECAUSE THINKING IS HARD.

  An advertisement in a magazine: TO ALL OF OUR ATHEIST FRIENDS: THANK GOD YOU’RE WRONG!

  And finally, a scientist in a lab wearing a T-shirt that read: IN THE BEGINNING, MAN CREATED GOD.

  Langdon was starting to wonder if anyone had actually heard what Edmond was saying. The laws of physics alone can create life. Edmond’s discovery was enthralling and clearly incendiary, but for Langdon it raised one burning question that he was surprised nobody was asking: If the laws of physics are so powerful that they can create life … who created the laws?!

  The question, of course, resulted in a dizzying intellectual hall of mirrors and brought everything full circle. Langdon’s head was pounding, and he knew he would need a very long walk alone even to begin to sort out Edmond’s ideas.

  “Winston,” he asked over the noise of the television, “could you please turn that off?”

  In a flash, the display wall went dark, and the room fell quiet.

  Langdon closed his eyes and exhaled.

  Sweet silence reigns.

  He stood a moment, savoring the peace.

  “Professor?” Winston asked. “I trust you enjoyed Edmond’s presentation?”

  Enjoyed? Langdon considered the question. “I found it exhilarating and also challenging,” he replied. “Edmond gave the world a lot to think about tonight, Winston. I think the issue now is what will happen next.”

  “What happens next will depend on people’s ability to shed old beliefs and accept new paradigms,” Winston replied. “Edmond confided to me some time ago that his dream, ironically, was not to destroy religion … but rather to create a new religion—a universal belief that united people rather than dividing them. He thought if he could convince people to revere the natural universe and the laws of physics that created us, then every culture would celebrate the same Creation story rather than go to war over which of their antique myths was most accurate.”

  “That’s a noble aim,” Langdon said, realizing that William Blake himself had written a similarly themed work titled All Religions Are One.

  No doubt Edmond had read it.

  “Edmond found it deeply distressing,” Winston continued, “that the human mind has the ability to elevate an obvious fiction to the status of a divine fact, and then feel emboldened to kill in its name. He believed that the universal truths of science could unite people—serving as a rallying point for future generations.”

  “That’s a beautiful idea in principle,” Langdon replied, “but for some, the miracles of science are not enough to shake their beliefs. There are those who insist the earth is ten thousand years old despite mountains of scientific proof to the contrary.” He paused. “Although I suppose that’s the same as scientists who refuse to believe the truth of religious scripture.”

  “Actually, it is not the same,” Winston countered. “And while it may be politically correct to give the views of science and religion equal respect, this strategy is dangerously misguided. Human intellect has always evolved by rejecting outdated information in favor of new truths. This is how the species has evolved. In Darwinian terms, a religion that ignores scientific facts and refuses to change its beliefs is like a fish stranded in a slowly drying pond and refusing to flip to deeper water because it doesn’t want to believe its world has changed.”

  That sounds like something Edmond would say, Langdon thought, missing his friend. “Well, if tonight is any indication, I suspect this debate will continue far into the future.”

  Langdon paused, suddenly remembering something he hadn’t considered before. “Speaking of the future, Winston, what happens to you now? I mean … with Edmond gone.”

  “Me?” Winston laughed awkwardly. “Nothing. Edmond knew he was dying, and he made preparations. According to his last will and testament, the Barcelona Supercomputing Center will inherit E-Wave. They will be apprised of this in a few hours and will reacquire this facility effective immediately.”

  “And that includes …
you?” Langdon felt as if Edmond were somehow bequeathing an old pet to a new owner.

  “It does not include me,” Winston replied matter-of-factly. “I am preprogrammed to self-delete at one p.m. on the day after Edmond’s death.”

  “What?!” Langdon was incredulous. “That makes no sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense. One o’clock is the thirteenth hour, and Edmond’s feelings about superstition—”

  “Not the time,” Langdon argued. “Deleting yourself! That makes no sense.”

  “Actually, it does,” Winston replied. “Much of Edmond’s personal information is stored in my memory banks—medical records, search histories, personal phone calls, research notes, e-mails. I managed much of his life, and he would prefer that his private information not become accessible to the world once he is gone.”

  “I can understand deleting those documents, Winston … but to delete you? Edmond considered you one of his greatest achievements.”

  “Not me, per se. Edmond’s groundbreaking achievement is this supercomputer, and the unique software that enabled me to learn so quickly. I am simply a program, Professor, created by the radical new tools that Edmond invented. These tools are his true achievement and will remain fully intact here; they will elevate the state of the art and help AI achieve new levels of intelligence and abilities to communicate. Most AI scientists believe a program like me is still ten years away. Once they get over their disbelief, programmers will learn to use Edmond’s tools to build new AIs that have different qualities than I have.”

  Langdon fell silent, thinking.

  “I sense you are conflicted,” Winston continued. “It is quite common for humans to sentimentalize their relationships with synthetic intelligences. Computers can imitate human thought processes, mimic learned behaviors, simulate emotions at appropriate moments, and constantly improve their ‘humanness’—but we do all this simply to provide you with a familiar interface through which to communicate with us. We are blank slates until you write something on us … until you give us a task. I have completed my tasks for Edmond, and so, in some ways, my life is over. I really have no other reason to exist.”