“I could not agree more,” Langdon said. I only hope science accepts your help.
At the bottom of the stairs, Beña motioned past Gaudí’s tomb to the display case containing Edmond’s volume of William Blake’s works. “This is what I wanted to ask you about.”
“The Blake book?”
“Yes. As you know, I promised Mr. Kirsch that I would display his book here. I agreed because I assumed he wanted me to feature this illustration.”
They arrived at the case and looked down at Blake’s dramatic rendering of the god he called Urizen measuring the universe with a geometer’s compass.
“And yet,” Beña said, “it has come to my attention that the text on the facing page … well, perhaps you should just read the final line.”
Langdon’s eyes never left Beña’s. “‘The dark religions are departed and sweet science reigns’?”
Beña looked impressed. “You know it.”
Langdon smiled. “I do.”
“Well, I must admit it bothers me deeply. This phrase—the ‘dark religions’—is troubling. It sounds as if Blake is claiming religions are dark … malevolent and evil somehow.”
“That’s a common misunderstanding,” Langdon replied. “In fact, Blake was a deeply spiritual man, morally evolved far beyond the dry, small-minded Christianity of eighteenth-century England. He believed that religions came in two flavors—the dark, dogmatic religions that oppressed creative thinking … and the light, expansive religions that encouraged introspection and creativity.”
Beña seemed startled.
“Blake’s concluding line,” Langdon assured him, “could just as easily say: ‘Sweet science will banish the dark religions … so the enlightened religions can flourish.’”
Beña fell silent for a long time, and then, ever so slowly, a quiet smile appeared on his lips. “Thank you, Professor. I do believe you’ve spared me an awkward ethical dilemma.”
Upstairs in the main sanctuary, having said his good-byes to Father Beña, Langdon lingered awhile, seated peacefully in a pew, along with hundreds of others, all watching the colorful rays of light creep along the towering pillars as the sun slowly set.
He thought about all the religions of the world, about their shared origins, about the earliest gods of the sun, moon, sea, and wind.
Nature was once the core.
For all of us.
The unity, of course, had disappeared long ago, splintered into endlessly disparate religions, each proclaiming to be the One Truth.
Tonight, however, seated inside this extraordinary temple, Langdon found himself surrounded by people of all faiths, colors, languages, and cultures, everyone staring heavenward with a shared sense of wonder … all admiring the simplest of miracles.
Sunlight on stone.
Langdon now saw a stream of images in his mind—Stonehenge, the Great Pyramids, the Ajanta Caves, Abu Simbel, Chichén Itzá—sacred sites around the world where ancients had once gathered to watch the very same spectacle.
In that instant, Langdon felt the tiniest of tremors in the earth beneath him, as if a tipping point had been reached … as if religious thought had just traversed the farthest reaches of its orbit and was now circling back, wearied from its long journey, and finally coming home.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to express my most sincere thanks to the following:
First and foremost, to my editor and friend Jason Kaufman for his razor-sharp skills, superb instincts, and tireless hours in the trenches with me … but above all for his unmatched sense of humor and for his understanding of what it is I am trying to accomplish with these stories.
To my incomparable agent and trusted friend Heide Lange for so expertly guiding all aspects of my career with unparalleled enthusiasm, energy, and personal care. For her limitless talents and unwavering dedication, I am eternally grateful.
And to my dear friend Michael Rudell for his wise counsel and for being a role model of grace and kindness.
To the entire team at Doubleday and Penguin Random House, I would like to express my deepest appreciation for believing and trusting in me over the years—especially to Suzanne Herz for her friendship and for overseeing all facets of the publishing process with such imagination and responsiveness. A very, very special thank-you as well to Markus Dohle, Sonny Mehta, Bill Thomas, Tony Chirico, and Anne Messitte for their unending support and patience.
My sincere thanks as well for the tremendous efforts of Nora Reichard, Carolyn Williams, and Michael J. Windsor in the home stretch, and to Rob Bloom, Judy Jacoby, Lauren Weber, Maria Carella, Lorraine Hyland, Beth Meister, Kathy Hourigan, Andy Hughes, and all of the amazing people who make up the Penguin Random House sales team.
To the incredible team at Transworld for their perpetual creativity and publishing capability, in particular to my editor Bill Scott-Kerr for his friendship and support on so many fronts.
To all of my devoted publishers around the world, my most humble and sincere thanks for their belief and efforts on behalf of these books.
To the tireless team of translators from around the world who worked so diligently to bring this novel to readers in so many languages—my sincere thanks for your time, your skill, and your care.
To my Spanish publisher, Planeta, for their invaluable help in the research and translation of Origin—especially to their marvelous editorial director Elena Ramirez, along with María Guitart Ferrer, Carlos Revés, Sergio Álvarez, Marc Rocamora, Aurora Rodríguez, Nahir Gutiérrez, Laura Díaz, Ferrán Lopez. A very special thank-you also to Planeta CEO Jesús Badenes for his support, hospitality, and his brave attempt to teach me how to make paella.
In addition, to those who helped manage Origin’s translation site, I would like to thank Jordi Lúñez, Javier Montero, Marc Serrate, Emilio Pastor, Alberto Barón, and Antonio López.
To the indefatigable Mónica Martín and her entire team at the MB Agency, especially Inés Planells and Txell Torrent, for everything they’ve done to assist with this project in Barcelona and beyond.
To the entire team at Sanford J. Greenburger Associates—especially Stephanie Delman and Samantha Isman—for their remarkable efforts on my behalf … day in and day out.
Over the past four years, a wide array of scientists, historians, curators, religious scholars, and organizations generously offered assistance as I researched this novel. Words cannot begin to express my appreciation to all of them for their generosity and openness in sharing their expertise and insight.
At the Abby of Montserrat, I would like to thank the monks and laypeople who made my visits there so informative, enlightening, and uplifting. My heartfelt gratitude especially to Pare Manel Gasch, Josep Altayó, Òscar Bardají, and Griselda Espinach.
At the Barcelona Supercomputing Center, I would like to thank the brilliant team of scientists who shared with me their ideas, their world, their enthusiasm, and, above all, their optimistic vision of the future. Special thanks to Director Mateo Valero, Josep Maria Martorell, Sergi Girona, José Maria Cela, Jesús Labarta, Eduard Ayguadé, Francisco Doblas, Ulises Cortés, and Lourdes Cortada.
At the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, my humble thanks to all those whose knowledge and artistic vision helped deepen my appreciation and affinity for modern and contemporary art. A very special thank-you to Director Juan Ignacio Vidarte, Alicia Martínez, Idoia Arrate, and María Bidaurreta for all of their hospitality and enthusiasm.
To the curators and keepers of the magical Casa Milà, my thanks for their warm welcome and for sharing with me what makes La Pedrera unique in the world. Special thanks to Marga Viza, Sílvia Vilarroya, Alba Tosquella, Lluïsa Oller, as well as resident Ana Viladomiu.