The Lost Symbol Epilogue

Robert Langdon arose gradually. Countenances looked down at him. Where am I? After a second, he reviewed where he was. He sat up gradually underneath the Apotheosis. His back felt hardened from lying on the hard catwalk. Where's Katherine? Langdon checked his Mickey Mouse watch. It's nearly time. He pulled himself to his feet, peering warily over the balustrade into the vast space underneath. â€Å"Katherine?† he got out. The word resounded back in the quiet of the abandoned Rotunda. Recovering his tweed coat from the floor, he forgot about it and set it back on. He checked his pockets. The iron key the Architect had given him was no more. Advancing back around the walkway, Langdon set out toward the opening the Architect had indicated them . . . steep metal steps climbing into squeezed obscurity. He started to climb. Ever more elevated he climbed. Steadily the flight of stairs turned out to be progressively restricted and increasingly slanted. Still Langdon pushed on. Only somewhat more remote. The means had become nearly ladderlike now, the section alarmingly choked. At long last, the steps finished, and Langdon ventured up onto a little arrival. Before him was a substantial metal entryway. The iron key was in the lock, and the entryway hung somewhat slightly open. He pushed, and the entryway squeaked open. The air past felt cold. As Langdon ventured over the limit into cloudy dimness, he understood he was currently outside. â€Å"I was simply coming to get you,† Katherine stated, grinning at him. â€Å"It's nearly time.† When Langdon perceived his environmental factors, he drew a surprised breath. He was remaining on a little skywalk that circled the apex of the U.S. State house Dome. Legitimately above him, the bronze Statue of Freedom looked out over the resting capital city. She confronted the east, where the main dark red sprinkles of sunrise had started to paint the skyline. Katherine guided Langdon around the gallery until they were confronting west, impeccably lined up with the National Mall. Out yonder, the outline of the Washington Monument remained in the early-morning light. From this vantage point, the transcending monolith looked much more amazing than it had previously. â€Å"When it was built,† Katherine murmured, â€Å"it was the tallest structure on the whole planet.† Langdon envisioned the old sepia photos of stonemasons on platform, in excess of 500 feet noticeable all around, laying each square by hand, individually. We are developers, he thought. We are makers. Since the very beginning, man had detected there was something extraordinary about himself . . . something else. He had ached for powers he didn't have. He had longed for flying, of recuperating, and of changing his reality inside and out. Also, he had done quite recently that. Today, the holy places to man's achievements embellished the National Mall. The Smithsonian historical centers thrived with our creations, our specialty, our science, and the thoughts of our extraordinary scholars. They told the historical backdrop of man as creatorâ€from the stone apparatuses in the Native American History Museum to the planes and rockets in the National Air and Space Museum. On the off chance that our progenitors could see us today, clearly they would think us divine beings. As Langdon looked through the predawn fog at the rambling geometry of exhibition halls and landmarks before him, his eyes came back to the Washington Monument. He imagined the solitary Bible in the covered foundation and thought of how the Word of God was actually the expression of man. He pondered the extraordinary circumpunct, and how it had been inserted in the round square underneath the landmark at the intersection of America. Langdon thought unexpectedly about the little stone box Peter had depended to him. The 3D square, he currently acknowledged, had unhinged and opened to shape the equivalent precise geometrical formâ€a cross with a circumpunct at its inside. Langdon needed to snicker. Indeed, even that little box was alluding to this intersection. â€Å"Robert, look!† Katherine highlighted the highest point of the landmark. Langdon lifted his look yet observed nothing. At that point, gazing all the more eagerly, he saw it. Over the Mall, a little spot of brilliant daylight was flashing off the most noteworthy hint of the transcending monolith. The sparkling pinpoint developed rapidly more brilliant, progressively brilliant, shining on the capstone's aluminum top. Langdon watched in wonder as the light changed into a reference point that floated over the shadowed city. He envisioned the small etching on the east-bound side of the aluminum tip and acknowledged surprisingly that the primary beam of daylight to hit the country's capital, each and every day, did as such by lighting up two words: Laus Deo. â€Å"Robert,† Katherine murmured. â€Å"Nobody ever gets the opportunity to come up here at dawn. This is the thing that Peter needed us to witness.† Langdon could feel his heartbeat stimulating as the shine on the landmark strengthened. â€Å"He said he accepts this is the reason the progenitors manufactured the landmark so tall. I don't have a clue whether that is valid, however I do realize thisâ€there's an old law proclaiming that nothing taller can be worked in our capital city. Ever.† The light crawled more distant down the capstone as the sun crawled into the great beyond behind them. As Langdon watched, he could nearly detect, surrounding him, the heavenly circles following their everlasting circles through the void of room. He thought of the Great Architect of the Universe and how Peter had said explicitly that the fortune he needed to show Langdon could be disclosed distinctly by the Architect. Langdon had expected this implied Warren Bellamy. Wrong Architect. As the beams of daylight fortified, the brilliant shine inundated the total of the thirty-300 pound capstone. The brain of man . . . getting edification. The light at that point started creeping down the landmark, beginning a similar plummet it played out each morning. Paradise advancing toward earth . . . God associating with man. This procedure, Langdon acknowledged, would turn around come evening. The sun would plunge in the west, and the light would climb again from earth back to paradise . . . getting ready for another day. Next to him, Katherine shuddered and crept nearer. Langdon put his arm around her. As both of them stood one next to the other peacefully, Langdon considered all he had adapted today around evening time. He thought of Katherine's conviction that everything was going to change. He thought of Peter's confidence that a time of illumination was inevitable. Furthermore, he thought of the expressions of an incredible prophet who had strikingly proclaimed: Nothing is shrouded that won't be made known; nothing is mystery that won't become visible. As the sun rose over Washington, Langdon looked to the sky, where the remainder of the evening time stars were becoming dim. He pondered science, about confidence, about man. He pondered how every culture, in each nation, in without fail, had constantly shared a certain something. We as a whole had the Creator. We utilized various names, various appearances, and changed supplications, however God was the widespread consistent for man. God was the image we as a whole shared . . . the image of the considerable number of secrets of life that we were unable to comprehend. The people of yore had lauded God as an image of our boundless human potential, yet that antiquated image had been lost after some time. As of recently. At that time, remaining on the Capitol, with the glow of the sun gushing down surrounding him, Robert Langdon felt an incredible upwelling profound inside himself. It was a feeling he had never felt this significantly in all his years. Expectation.