The Lost Symbol

When he arrived at his office, he retrieved a very old key from his desk drawer. The key was black iron, long and slender, with faded markings. He slid it into his pocket and then prepared himself to welcome his guests.

Robert Langdon and Katherine Solomon were on their way to the Capitol. At Peter’s request, Bellamy was to provide them with a very rare opportunity — the chance to lay eyes upon this building’s most magnificent secret. something that could be revealed only by the Architect.

CHAPTER 133

High above the floor of the Capitol Rotunda, Robert Langdon inched nervously around the circular catwalk that extended just beneath the ceiling of the dome. He peered tentatively over the railing, dizzied by the height, still unable to believe it had been less than ten hours since Peter’s hand had appeared in the middle of the floor below.

On that same floor, the Architect of the Capitol was now a tiny speck some hundred and eighty feet below, moving steadily across the Rotunda and then disappearing. Bellamy had escorted Langdon and Katherine up to this balcony, leaving them here with very specific instructions.

Peter’s instructions.

Langdon eyed the old iron key that Bellamy had handed to him. Then he glanced over at a cramped stairwell that ascended from this level. climbing higher still. God help me. These narrow stairs, according to the Architect, led up to a small metal door that could be unlocked with the iron key in Langdon’s hand.

Beyond the door lay something that Peter insisted Langdon and Katherine see. Peter had not elaborated, but rather had left strict instructions regarding the precise hour at which the door was to be opened. We have to wait to open the door? Why?

Langdon checked his watch again and groaned.

Slipping the key into his pocket, he gazed across the gaping void before him at the far side of the balcony. Katherine had walked fearlessly ahead, apparently unfazed by the height. She was now halfway around the circumference, admiring every inch of Brumidi’s The Apotheosis of Washington, which loomed directly over their heads. From this rare vantage point, the fifteen-foot-tall figures that adorned the nearly five thousand square feet of the Capitol Dome were visible in astonishing detail.

Langdon turned his back to Katherine, faced the outer wall, and whispered very quietly, “Katherine, this is your conscience speaking. Why did you abandon Robert?”

Katherine was apparently familiar with the dome’s startling acoustical properties. because the wall whispered back. “Because Robert is being a chicken. He should come over here with me. We have plenty of time before we’re allowed to open that door.”

Langdon knew she was right and reluctantly made his way around the balcony, hugging the wall as he went.

“This ceiling is absolutely amazing,” Katherine marveled, her neck craned to take in the enormous splendor of the Apotheosis overhead. “Mythical gods all mixed in with scientific inventors and their creations? And to think this is the image at the center of our Capitol.”

Langdon turned his eyes upward to the sprawling forms of Franklin, Fulton, and Morse with their technological inventions. A shining rainbow arched away from these figures, guiding his eye to George Washington ascending to heaven on a cloud. The great promise of man becoming God.

Katherine said, “It’s as if the entire essence of the Ancient Mysteries is hovering over the Rotunda.”

Langdon had to admit, not many frescoes in the world fused scientific inventions with mythical gods and human apotheosis. This ceiling’s spectacular collection of images was indeed a message of the Ancient Mysteries, and it was here for a reason. The founding fathers had envisioned America as a blank canvas, a fertile field on which the seeds of the mysteries could be sown. Today, this soaring icon — the father of our country ascending to heaven — hung silently above our lawmakers, leaders, and presidents. a bold reminder, a map to the future, a promise of a time when man would evolve to complete spiritual maturity.

“Robert,” Katherine whispered, her gaze still fixated on the massive figures of America’s great inventors accompanied by Minerva. “It’s prophetic, really. Today, man’s most advanced inventions are being used to study man’s most ancient ideas. The science of Noetics may be new, but it’s actually the oldest science on earth — the study of human thought.” She turned to him now, her eyes filled with wonder. “And we’re learning that the ancients actually understood thought more profoundly than we do today.”

“Makes sense,” Langdon replied. “The human mind was the only technology the ancients had at their disposal. The early philosophers studied it relentlessly.”