Dan Brown - Origin

A s 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 Godespecially 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 hosts rawboned features from photos and felt an unexpected surge of adrenaline.

Valdespino is greeting me personally.

Bishop Antonio Valdespino was a formidable figure in Spainnot only a trusted friend and counselor to the king himself, but one of the countrys 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 hosts bony hand. Bishop Valdespino, I want to thank you for arranging this meeting.

I appreciate your requesting it. The bishops voice was stronger than Kirsch expectedclear 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 bishops cassock.

I must confess, Valdespino said, you look different than I imagined. I was expecting a scientist, but youre quite He eyed his guests 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 nowperhaps 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 youngthe 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 Worlds 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 parliaments self-proclaimed objective was to cultivate harmony among the worlds religions, build bridges between diverse spiritualities, and celebrate the intersections of all faith.

A noble quest, Kirsch thought, despite seeing it as an empty exercisea 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 Godand I have climbed a mountain to do quite the opposite.

Kirschs 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 visithe was eager to feel the gratification of sitting face-to-face with these clerics and foretelling their imminent demise.