Hackers slang Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1000 words

Hackers slang - Essay Example The existence of slang dictionaries, of course, cancels the effectiveness of certain words. Abbreviation. Hackers denote a word by only several of its component letters. For example: "RTFM" - "read the following manual", "IMHO" - "in my humble opinion", "BTW" - "by the way" or "LOL" - "lay of laugh". Verb doubling. Hackers double verbs as a concise, sometimes sarcastic comment on what the implied subject does. Also, a doubled verb is often used to terminate a conversation, in the process remarking on the current state of affairs or what the speaker intends to do next. Typical examples involve win, lose, hack, flame, barf, and chomp, i.e. "The disk heads just crashed." "Lose, lose." Sound-alike slang. Hackers will often make rhymes or puns in order to convert an ordinary word or phrase into something more interesting, i.e. "Plug&Play" is transformed to "Plug&Pray", "Government Property - Do Not Duplicate" to "Government Duplicity - Do Not Propagate" or "Macintosh" to "Macintrash". Overgeneralization. Many hackers love to take various words and add the wrong endings to them to make nouns and verbs, often by extending a standard rule to non-uniform cases (or vice versa). For example: "win" extends to "winnitude", "winnage", "disgust" to "disgustitude", "hack" to "hackification". "Marketdroid" is a member of a company's marketing department, especially one who promises users that the next version of a product will have features that are not actually scheduled for inclusion, are extremely difficult to implement. "Careware" is a variety of shareware for which either the author suggests that some payment be made to a nominated charity or a levy directed to charity is included on top of the distribution charge. Spoken inarticulations. Words such as "mumble", "sigh", and "groan" are spoken in places where their referent might more naturally be used. It derives from the impossibility of representing such noises in a chat or by e-mail. Anthropomorphization. Hackers often anthropomorphize hardware and software, for example, it's possible to say, "the protocol handler got confused" or "the program is died". () Comparatives. Many words in hacker slang have to be understood as members of sets of comparatives. This is especially true of the adjectives and nouns used to describe the beauty and functional quality of code. Here is an approximately correct spectrum: "monstrosity brain-damage screw bug lose misfeature" or "crock kluge hack win feature elegance perfection". (Levi, 1984, pp.56-78) Numerization. Hackers often include soundalike numbers in place of words or parts of words, for example "4 you", "2 do". (Kelly-Bootle, 1995, pp.36-101) Terms of computer hackers' dialect are often particular to their subculture. Raymond (1996) writes, "The hacker culture' is actually a loosely networked collection of subcultures that is nevertheless conscious of some important shared experiences, shared roots, and shared values. It has its own myths, heroes, villains, folk epics, in-jokes, taboos, and dreams. Because hackers as a group are particularly creative people who define themselves partly by rejection of normal' values and working habits, it has unusually rich and conscious traditions for an intentional culture less than 40 years

Responsibilities of an Authorized Supervisor Essay

Responsibilities of an Authorized Supervisor - Essay Example The Regulation necessitates facilities to install safety glass – if the Building Code of Australia necessitates the area to be furnished with safety glass, or put on glass treatments to glass installed on the buildings below 75 meters in areas reachable to children. As an all-purpose rule this would only be valid for glass – in doors, windows however, where there is other glass in these areas that is deliberated to pose a threat to children, the facility should safeguard the glass from breakage, put a an obstruction in front of it, or take it away from the area (Services, 2004).1.3 Maintaining the Group sizesThe largest group size for children from three to five years of age is condensed from 25 to 20. This does not alter necessary recruitment numbers, just the way children are systematized. Maintaining the group size is another responsibility of the supervisor.1.4 Mobile servicesThe Guideline presents a procedure indicated as a ‘venue management plan’ by w hich mobile child care facilities give a plan telling how the security and comfort of children at the school premises will be dealt with.1.5 Numbers of School Age Children Child care centers that offer care for school children on their approved premises can take bigger numbers of very young school children. If the children being taken care of are in Playgroup or Year 1, a center may take 20% of their authorized numbers. In classes above Year 1, the 10% maximum endures to relate. Where the above proportions of school age children appearing in the service.

Pygmalion and Henry Higgins

Pygmalion and Henry Higgins The notetaker, primarily known as Henry Higgins, has a tendency to come off as being a jerk and really self centered. Since his profession is phonetics and speech, Higgins tends to have this mentality of him being better than everyone else and people who arent like him, arent worth his time. This causes Higgins to judge everyone he sees. The main person he focuses on is the flower girl, and is also known as Eliza Doolittle. Eliza was first seen on the side of the street selling herself, she wasnt the best dressed and she also didnt talk like a lady, so Higgins being the jerk that he is known for starts off degrading her as a person and treats her like she isnt valuable or worth of anyones time. The only reason why nobody has left him or has turned against him is, because in his heart he is good and a harmless man, but he biggest fault is being a bully. Relationships can capture such a great friendship between two people that could go on for years, but Higgins had the mindset that only focusing on himself was the most valuable thing in the world. In the beginning of Act 1, Higgins and Elizas relationship started to form. Although he had a slight tendency to come off as rude to her in the most negative ways, Higgins knew that his relationship with the flower girl would have to grow, because of the bet he made with Colonel Pickering that he could turn her into a lady before the garden party. Even though during the time Higgins was helping her, he would still treat the flower girl like she was worthless of everyones time. In Act IV, Higgins comes off as somewhat pleasant to the flower girl, making it seem as if his relationship changed throughout the play. As we get to the end of the play, Higgins has completely changed his mind about Eliza, he now realizes that, because of her, HIggins now looks at the world differently. Five minutes ago you were like a milestone around my neck. Now youre a tower of strength: a consort battleship. Higgins now believes that he is very proud of her, and he accepts the way she is. His relationship with Eliza did start off as unpleasant, and now that Higgins realizes that he does now respect Eliza, he wouldnt mind keeping her in his life as a long life friend. Relationships can be a beautiful thing between two people, but it all depends on how you view the world and how you value people. Some of our values and beliefs have a way of catching up to us in the end, they can often make us better as a person or make us turn into an unpleasant person for everyone to see. The way we value people, and what we believe as a person determines our actions towards certain individuals and situations that we get ourself in. Higgins, the notetaker, is influenced by his social class, and his beliefs as a person. The way Higgins was grown accustomed to acting the way he did, because of being raised in that type of environment, caused him to act a certain way towards people who are beneath him and superior to him. Although Higgins was somewhat of a bully, he still had a very good heart on his hands. As the play, Pygmalion, came to an end, Higgins learns that people are more than a social class, and also a social class does not determine your intelligence or the kind of person you turn out to be. Higgins believed that if you werent from the right social class, and you came of as unworthy, he wouldnt even give you the time of day, because he felt as if you didnt deserve it. In Act II, Higgins repeated, Shall we ask his baggage to sit down, or shall we throw her out the window? Higgins was not impressed with her or the way she dressed, he orders her away, because he had enough her Lisson Grove lingo. As time went on, and Higgins finally opened up his mind a little bit more, in Act V, he told Eliza I said id make a woman of you;and I have, I like you like this. His beliefs changed towards the end, and realized that not everything is about which social class youre from, it all depends on how good of a person you are. In conclusion to the play Pygmalion, the way Higgins perceives his roles, helped him grow as a person. He now has an open mindset to many different social classes, and how he looks at the world. He now has learned that not only does your social class not define you as a person, but he has also learned to actually get to know someone before he goes out and judges them.

Personal Narrative- A Non-traditional Love Story :: Personal Narrative Essays

Personal Narrative- A Non-traditional Love Story I first met Tyler at "Above and Beyond", a support group for brain parasites. I don't have brain parasites, and neither does he, but that's where we met. I had seen him before at other support groups, and he never used his real name. He would always glare at me, as if I was intruding on him or something. I've dated a lot of weird guys before, guys that liked to cross-dress, guys that couldn't get enough body piercings, but Tyler takes the cake. We had our first conversation at "Above and Beyond." It wasn't a pleasant one. He couldn't handle having me around at all his support groups. I was invading his space, he told me. He was being such an ass. He threatened to expose me, to tell everyone at the support groups that I didn't really have brain parasites or ascending bowel cancer or whatever else. That wasn't going to work - I could expose him just as easily. We decided to take turns going to support groups. We decided that was the only way we could handle the issue. I played his little game for a while, but then I decided to cheat. I thought I'd show up at one of his support groups, just to piss him off. But he wasn't there. Tyler had stopped going to all of his support groups, the fucker. God, I was angry. Who knows how long I'd been missing out. One night, I just got sick of everything. I grabbed my bottle of Xanax pills and ate the rest of them. I just thought I'd drift off peacefully and never have to worry about my shit job, my crappy apartment, or anything ever again. I didn't really want to commit suicide, I was just bored, I guess. I was just about to fall asleep forever when you-know-who called. Tyler Durden. That crazy, crazy Tyler. I can't even remember what we talked about, but before I knew it - he was knocking on my door. I was really loopy, could hardly stand up. We took the bus back to his place - a rickety old wooden house on Paper Street. He would have to keep me awake all night, I told him, or I would die. So, he did, in that perverted Tyler way. Over and over. He was great though, must've had the Kama Sutra memorized from cover to cover. Personal Narrative- A Non-traditional Love Story :: Personal Narrative Essays Personal Narrative- A Non-traditional Love Story I first met Tyler at "Above and Beyond", a support group for brain parasites. I don't have brain parasites, and neither does he, but that's where we met. I had seen him before at other support groups, and he never used his real name. He would always glare at me, as if I was intruding on him or something. I've dated a lot of weird guys before, guys that liked to cross-dress, guys that couldn't get enough body piercings, but Tyler takes the cake. We had our first conversation at "Above and Beyond." It wasn't a pleasant one. He couldn't handle having me around at all his support groups. I was invading his space, he told me. He was being such an ass. He threatened to expose me, to tell everyone at the support groups that I didn't really have brain parasites or ascending bowel cancer or whatever else. That wasn't going to work - I could expose him just as easily. We decided to take turns going to support groups. We decided that was the only way we could handle the issue. I played his little game for a while, but then I decided to cheat. I thought I'd show up at one of his support groups, just to piss him off. But he wasn't there. Tyler had stopped going to all of his support groups, the fucker. God, I was angry. Who knows how long I'd been missing out. One night, I just got sick of everything. I grabbed my bottle of Xanax pills and ate the rest of them. I just thought I'd drift off peacefully and never have to worry about my shit job, my crappy apartment, or anything ever again. I didn't really want to commit suicide, I was just bored, I guess. I was just about to fall asleep forever when you-know-who called. Tyler Durden. That crazy, crazy Tyler. I can't even remember what we talked about, but before I knew it - he was knocking on my door. I was really loopy, could hardly stand up. We took the bus back to his place - a rickety old wooden house on Paper Street. He would have to keep me awake all night, I told him, or I would die. So, he did, in that perverted Tyler way. Over and over. He was great though, must've had the Kama Sutra memorized from cover to cover.

Scene paragraph

The scene Is when Maroon arrives at the hotel. After checking In she Is Invited to have dinner with Norman. While she is getting settled Norman goes back into the house and Marion overhears He and his â€Å"Mother† arguing about Marion eating dinner there. He instead brings the dinner down to her where they begin to talk. While talking she gives her opinion of what he should do with his mother because she is â€Å"very ill†. Throughout this scene you get an idea of how Norman feels about his mother, and why he feels like he need to be there for her.This scene to me relates to the movie as a whole because all of the things that the viewer was told during this part of the movie Is later explained at the end. How Normal's mother dies 10 years ago but to customers, and to himself, he acts as If she Is still living. He also says that his mother couldn't deal with the death of her boyfriend and Is having a hard time dealing with his death as well as Normal's father. When In f act, Norman poisoned both the boyfriend and the mother.We also believe the mother to be doing the murdering but it has been Norman dressed in women clothes and a wig. The anatomy of the film I feel is in this scene but is slowly broken down and explained more in depth throughout the remainder of the movie. Taxi Driver The scene begins at the diner where the scabies meet usually meet for coffee while on shift. Travis follows the Wizard outside as he leaves and sparks a conversation with him eluding to the fact that he has thoughts In his head that he wants to act on. These thoughts are to kill someone.This scene plays a large part to me In this film because this Is where I believe the turning point for Travis Is. Throughout the entire vie he feels uneasy because he is searching for something, searching for his place in this world. His major issues lie with the scum that pollute his city and the fact that no one is doing anything about it. This scene is where Travis begins to come to the realization of what his purpose and that purpose is to fight those that are polluting the city. He can not and does not fight everyone but his finds a way he can combat this and takes advantage of this.All in the name of helping another person become a better person by convincing Iris to go back to her parents as well as getting rid of a ewe gangsters and pimps who help pollute the city. The Wizard of Oz This scene Is towards the closing of the film. The Wizard has granted all wishes he has promised to Scarecrow, Tin Man, and The Lion and now Dorothy is awaiting to where the all of the townspeople of Emerald City are gathered. Toto Jumps out his basket to chase a cat and Dorothy chases after which in turn causes her to miss the ride home.She begins to get distraught because she does not know how she is going to get home until The Witch Of The North appears and informs her on how to get home. I believe this scene relates to rest of the movie because it culminates everything that has happened in a few minutes. At this point Dorothy realizes she had the power all along to go home. The entire story was about characters going to see the Wizard to get something that each of them possessed all along. Dorothy possessed the power to go home whenever she chose to.Scarecrow wanted a brain but was intelligent already and was on display throughout the film especially when they battled the witch. Tin Man wanted a heart, but showed characteristics of having a heart all throughout the film. Showing love, caring, and being compassionate. And the Lion wanted courage, but didn't realize that it took courage to take the Journey to the wizard, and courage to save Dorothy. Dances With Wolves The scene is where Let. Dunbar is and the Indian arrive at their living area at night and he tells him that he is full.The Indian begins to check out Let. Dunbar Jackets and he asks if he would like to wear it. The Indian puts the Jacket on and as a gesture of goodness exchanges with him a tribal necklace. Let. Dunbar replies â€Å"this is a good trade†. They enter the tent where they all eat, Joke and laugh. Let. Dunbar see's one of he tribesman wearing his hat that he wants back. The Indian does want to give it back but in turn is convinced to give something to Let. Dunbar as a gestured of goodness. The previous Indian who Let.Dunbar exchanged his Jacket with replies â€Å"good trade† after the exchange as a sign of comedy. This scene is where I feel Let. Dunbar begins to feel comfortable in his new place in life and begins to really feel comfortable with the tribe that he is around. One characteristic of this movie is transitioning and I feel this particular scene shows a piece that contributes to Let. Dunbar transition. Raiders of The Lost Ark The scene begins when Indiana and Marion are trapped in the area where they have found the ark to be.They are in a below ground tomb area that is filled with thousands of snakes. Indiana seems to have met his d oom by being trapped in this tomb when the concrete cover is put back on top of the entrance traps he and Marion inside with the snakes. The rope Indy used to lower himself has been removed and the entrance seems to be over 50 feet high. With the fire from their stakes dwindling they are having a hard time keeping the snakes away. Indy notices that more snakes are entering their area from a wall that has drawings carved into t. They are entering through the eyes of the carvings.Indy believes that their must be something that is allowing more and more snakes to enter on the other side. He then devises a plan which has him tip over a giant statue that is in the tomb to crush escape from their demise. This scene to is one example of the reoccurring action throughout the entire film. Indiana seems to always find himself in sticky situations and it does not look promising for him to prevail. Somehow though, Indy always uses his tools or what's around him to escape any situation, even tho se that seem like their s no way to prevail.This is what make the movie interesting because you are rooting for Indy and hate to see him not prevail, and then somehow he does which in turn allows him to continue on his quest of securing the Ark. Pearl Harbor This scene begins at the hula lounge where men and women stationed at Pearl Harbor occasionally attend to catch a drink with their buddies. This time is different thought because Raff is now in attendance. Everyone within the Reef's unit, including his best friend Danny, believed him to be dead after he volunteered for an overseas mission and his plane was shot down.No word on Reef's status or his whereabouts were given for over 3 months. During this time while Danny was attempting to console Evelyn, Reef's girlfriend (or ex- girlfriend since he was believed to be dead), but during this time they both began to fall in love with each other. The situation has now became extremely complicated due to the fact that Raff is now Ã¢â‚¬Ë œback from the dead† and is having to deal with Danny and Evelyn relationship. Words are exchanged and the two break out into a fight that causes a large brawl at the lounge. The Amp's show up and the two set aside their difference and Danny pullsRaff away from the crowd so they both can get to safety. This is a small portion of a longer and more major scene but this small portion acts as an indicator for me throughout the entire film. The attack came as a surprise to everyone. A lot of casualties were witnessed. But the reason more casualties were not suffered because individuals were able to put issues aside and come together for a greater purpose. So many different people came together to aid the injured, to help the war effort by firing weapons first hand or flying planes to subdue the attack that could've gotten worse than it already was.

Perinatal Depression In Black Women Health And Social Care Essay

Perinatal depression is defined as depression which has either originated during gestation or one twelvemonth station kid birth. [ 1 ] The overall prevalence of perinatal depression is estimated to be 14.5 % per centum of all the gestations in the United States. [ 2 ] The estimated prevalence of perinatal depression in African American adult females is higher than white adult females. [ 3 ] Perinatal depression is multi factorial. Major hazard factors for perinatal depression are undiagnosed depression in the prenatal period, bing major depressive upset, past history of gestation with post-partum depression. The chief hazard factors hypothesized are low socio-economic position, societal isolation, increased prevalence of confidant spouse force, increased figure of unwanted gestations, increased religionism, cultural factors such as stigma associated with seeking mental wellness services, deficiency of societal support and societal detachment, increased high hazard behaviour such as smoke, alcohol addiction and drug maltreatment during gestation, increased prevalence of HIV/AIDS and self perceived favoritism. Surveies show that African American adult females from interior metropolis countries have GED instruction and a few adult females have a college grade. Unwanted gestation in teenage, deficiency of entree to exigency preventives, and reduced use of abortion services are the causes for higher rates of high school dropouts in these adult females. Food, lodging and occupation insecurities are more frequently seen in adult females from interior metropolis. Odd work hours, deficiency of insurance or under insurance, high strain occupations have inauspicious effects on the wellness of the female parent. Unsafe vicinities and deficiency of supermarkets can restrict the entree to fresh fruits and veggies. Most adult females depend on nutrient casts for their monthly food markets. Low SES Poor Health, Depression Social isolation reported by adult females with perinatal depression. Studies show that most adult females are individual female parents with no fellows or hubbies. Lack of societal support and societal detachment are other societal barriers experienced by these adult females. Lack of cognition on parenting, nutrition, contraceptive method during gestation, services available through plans like Healthy Start, WIC and how to voyage through these systems for wellness attention are the major countries where support services are either losing or non easy available. Many African American adult females are either victims of physical, emotional, sexual or more than one signifier of confidant spouse force. Rape and incest are really normally reported signifiers of sexual maltreatment. Intimate spouse force can ensue in low ego regard and do adult females more prone to depression during gestation. Besides, culprits are more likely to be drug maltreaters and may forcefully expose the adult females to drugs. The unmet demand for exigency preventive in African American adult females is higher than white adult females. The rate of elected abortions in African American adult females is lower than white adult females. The barriers to exigency preventive are cost, deficiency of information about the timing of exigency preventive usage, cultural barriers such as guilt and shame. It is estimated that the prevalence of unwanted gestation in the United States is 50 % . The mean age of maternity in African American adult females is in early 20s versus late 20s and mid 30s for white adult females. Besides of all the uninsured or underinsured female parents, bulk are African American. Surveies suggest that African American adult females prefer psychotherapeutics compared to pharmacotherapy. Black adult females are more likely to go to church than white adult females and they approach spiritual leaders in the church for support. Increased religionism is one of the drive grounds for decreased and less frequent abortions in African American adult females and increased figure of unwanted gestations. Many Orthodox Catholic churches do non approve preventive usage in any signifier and promote abstain merely methods for contraceptive method. Some surveies suggest that using mental wellness is perceived as a societal stigma in African American adult females particularly among Haitians. High hazard behaviours such as smoke and utilizing street drugs during gestation are more prevailing in African American adult females. These adult females are more likely to hold past history of engagement in drug trafficking and many have pending eviction or public-service corporation cuts. It is hard to badger out whether depression caused the usage of drugs or the usage of drugs caused depression. Public Health impact Complications of perinatal depression are placental abnormalcies, self-generated abortions and preeclampsia. Depressed female parents have hapless female parent to child fond regard and chest provender less often. Perinatal depression additions maternal morbidity and decreases overall good being by doing day-to-day life damage. Depressed female parents have increased pre term birth associated with high rates of low births. The babies of down female parents have higher prevalence of perinatal birth complications and more frequent NICU admittances. Some surveies suggest that these babies may confront developmental issues and may non turn to allow percentile for age. As down female parents feed their babies less often, there can be an increased hazard of diarrhoeas due to bottle provenders. Depressed female parent Sick babe Healthy Start Initiative is a federal enterprise to supply mental wellness services for low income African American adult females. hapless referral and usage of mental wellness services Federal degree Including support services for mental wellness Intervention The barriers experienced by the African American adult females can be structural, knowledge based and attitudinal. The structural barriers can run from deficiency of coverage by insurance, inability to pay, inadequate kid attention, transit troubles and distance to go to clinic. The normally seen cognition barriers are deficiency of clip, non cognizing whom to reach, how to put up and assignment, non cognizing what intervention might be the best for oneself. The attitudinal barriers include worrying what others would believe, concerns about effectual aid one can acquire, deficiency of household support for acquiring the intervention and trouble in going motivated to seek intervention. Problem work outing instruction Medicine is impermanent Skills can be used over life clip Negative life events can act upon mental wellness Case directors can play the function of job work outing instruction Administration of BECK trial. Mild to chair depression can be eligible for the job work outing instruction. Severe depression can be provided with engagement interview to assist voyage through mental wellness service Describe job work outing instruction Describe battle interview 0-3-6 Focus groups instance directors, adult females having job work outing instruction, engagement interview Culturally acceptable, more unfastened ended Provides something for everybody Decreases the load on community mental wellness Centres Can better the use of mental wellness services Breast feeding support groups Social support group Policy degree support to develop the instance directors Church based activities Education on contraceptive method Breastfeeding, abortion support groups Weak job work outing accomplishments and life jobs make a individual more prone to depression. There is besides rearward causing, as depression additions, the ability to place and work out job lessenings. Problem work outing accomplishments will authorise the adult females to hold a sense of control on their jobs and utilize them in the hereafter to forestall depression. Problem work outing therapy will assist adult females place their jobs and happen realistic solutions to them. It will besides supply adult females with a systematic problem-solving scheme. & A ; acirc ; ˆ?Engagement interview is an individualised, psychosocial intercession, based on an integrating of rules and techniques of ethnographic interviewing ( EI ) and motivational interviewing ( MI ) . & A ; acirc ; ˆA? This methodological analysis can turn to cultural barriers experienced by low income adult females and offer a curative scheme to prosecute adult females in mental wellness services. The interview is based on unfastened ended inquiries technique and is delivered over 45 to 60 proceedingss to run into the specific demands of the client. The motivational constituents address working with ambivalency. Ethnographic rules on the other manus aid to research in a non judgmental mode the values and experiences of the clients. Recognitions Rosie Munoz-Lopez Xandra Negron Emily Fineberg Barbara Gottlieb 1. Gaynes BN, G.N. , Meltzer-Brody S, Lohr KN, Swinson T, Gartlehner G, Brody S, and M. WC. , Perinatal depression: prevalence, testing truth, and testing results. Evid Rep Technol Assess ( Summ ) , 2005 Feb. 119: p. 1-8. 2. Sit DK, F.C. , Svidergol D, White J, Wimer M, Bish B, Wisner KL, Best patterns: an emerging best pattern theoretical account for perinatal depression attention. Psychiatr Serv. , 2009 Nov. 60 ( 11 ) : p. 1429-31. 3. O'Mahen, H.A. and H.A. Flynn, Preferences and perceived barriers to intervention for depression during the perinatal period. J Womens Health ( Larchmt ) , 2008. 17 ( 8 ) : p. 1301-9.

Extremophiles essays

Extremophiles essays The term extremophiles is applied to groups of microorganisms that live and thrive in places where most living creatures could not survive. Extremophiles can be grouped into two categories; Bacteria, simple celled creatures whose cells lack a nucleus, and eukarya, whose cells are more complex. The habitats of extremophiles include a wide range of environments each containing its own unique creature specially adapted to that particular place. Each of those groups has a lot of commercial and scientific value that scientists are exploring eagerly. The first group of extremophiles is the Thermophiles. By definition these are microbes that thrive in very hot environments. To be considered an extremophile in this type environment, the microbe needs to be able to thrive and reproduce in temperatures in excesses of 45 degrees Celsius. There is a second class of thermophiles called hyperthermophiles, which enjoy temperatures above 80 degrees Celsius. There are a select few that can actually survive at temperatures above 100 degrees Celsius, the boiling point of water. As a comparison, no multicellular animals or plants have been found that can tolerate an environment above 50 degrees Celsius. The discovery of these interesting creatures is very recent, with the first discoveries dating back about thirty years ago and recent discoveries being more and more common with commercial potential driving the research. One of the main uses of these types of microbes is in the revolutionary PCR technology. PCR stands for polymerase chain reaction. This technology is the basis for forensic science, biological research, medical diagnosis and screening for genetic susceptibility for diseases like cancer, etc. In PCR, an enzyme called DNA polymerase copies repeatedly a snippet of DNA producing an enormous supply. The process requires both a hot and cold temperature at different points in the process. By using ...

Digital Values †Math Research Paper

Digital Values – Math Research Paper Free Online Research Papers Abstract:- We come across many big calculations which we want to check. Though the idea of digital roots can be used, but it is limited to integers. This paper introduces a new idea of assigning every number a characteristic value called â€Å"Digital Values†. Every number, real or imaginary is assigned a digital value. The digital values are mostly 1, 2,3,4,5,6,7,8 or 9. These values have many interesting properties. Although in some cases we assign some other values for our convenience. The digital values can be applied to calculations to check them. They also have interesting properties in an equation (expressions involving unknown quantities) and system of equations. Keywords:- digital values, digital roots, digital sum, digitally irrational numbers, equi-digital functions. 1 Introduction Sometimes it is very difficult to go back and check the whole process. It happens in many calculations, while solving equations etc. The idea of digital roots may help us in some calculations. A formula for finding the digital root of an integer is given by[1] : Digitalroot[x] = 1+Mod[(x-1),9]. The digital root of addition, subtraction, multiplication and division of integers show interesting properties. But the idea is limited to integers. This paper introduces a new concept of â€Å"digital values† to overcome this difficulty. Just like in digital roots, we assign particular values for different numbers but this can be implemented for any number (real, imaginary or complex). It follows all the properties of digital roots. The paper also introduces how these digital values can help us in verifying calculations and the application of digital values in functions and equations. 2. What is digital value? Digital value is a characteristic value assigned to a number. We will denote digital value of a number x by //x// or by dval(x). For a natural number the digital value is same as its digital root[1]. As in digital roots, we add the different digits and repeat the process till a single digit is reached. For 1456914 the digital value will be: //1+4+5+6+9+1+4//=//30//=3. Similarly for 563, digital value =//563//=//5+6+3//=//14//=5 2.1 Digital value of an integer Consider the following table: Table 1 Number Digital Value 267 6 266 5 265 4 264 3 263 2 262 1 261 9 260 8 259 7 258 6 257 5 256 4 255 3 254 2 253 1 We observe that the digital value of the natural numbers in decreasing order repeat the pattern : â€Å"9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1† For 0 and negative integers also we will follow the same pattern to get the digital value i.e. digital value of 0 is 9,-1 is 8,-2 is 7,-3 is 6 and so on. A simple way to find out the digital value of a negative integer is to subtract the absolute value of the integer from 9.For e.g. //-8// = 9 //8// = 9 – 8 = 1 //-5647// = 9 //5647// = 9 – 4 =5 The above results can be obtained by the general formula [1] Digitalroot[x] = 1+Mod[(x-1),9] Some properties of digital values: For two integers a and b, (1) // a + b // = // //a// + //b// // (2) // a b // = // //a// //b// // (3) // a Ãâ€" b // = // //a// Ãâ€" //b// // (4) // // a + b // + c // = // a + // b + c // // (5) // // a Ãâ€" b // Ãâ€" c // = // a Ãâ€"//b Ãâ€" c // // (6) // 9a// = 9 (7) // 8 Ãâ€" a // = //-a// (8) // 9a + b // = //b// (9) // a! // = 9, where a ? 6 (10) // a^b // = // dval(a)^b // All the above identities can be easily proved using congruence. 2.2 Division of integers (digital values of rational numbers) For division consider the following expression: (11) // a/b // = // (dval(a))/(dval(b)) // So, now, digital value for any decimal number which is terminating can be found out. For e.g. //12.321// =// 12321/1000 // = // (dval(12321))/(dval(1000)) // = // 9/1 // = 9 For 1/11 // 1/11 // = // (dval(1))/(dval(11)) // = // 1/2 //=//0.5//=5 According to the above identity // 1/7 // and // 1/16 // should have same digital value. So, = // 1/7 // = // 1/16 // = //0.0625// = 4 Now, for any division // x/y // = // //x// Ãâ€" // 1/y // // Division by 3,6 and 9 cannot be determined. It is either undefined or has multiple digital values. If //a//=3, // a/3// = 1, 4, 7 If //a//=6, // a/3// = 2, 5, 8 If //a//=9, // a/3// = 3, 6, 9 If //a//=3, // a/6// = 2, 5, 8 If //a//=6, // a/6// = 1,4,7 If //a//=9, // a/6// = 3, 6, 9 If //a//=9, // a/9// = 1, 2,3,4,5, 6, 7, 8, 9 In all other cases the digital value is digitally imaginary (see next section). 2.3 Digital values of irrational numbers For an irrational number, we will use (12) // a^b // = // dval(a)^b //, where a, b are real numbers So //square root of 13// = // square root of //4// // = //2// or //-2// = 2 or 7 //?4 // = //2// = 2 (one root is taken only if the given value is rational) //?13// will have 2 values : 2 and 7 Let A be another number such that //a//= //A// // a^b // = // dval(a)^b // and // A^b // = // dval(A)^b //=// dval(a)^b // therefore, // a^b // =// A^b // Using this method: // square root of 7//= //square root of 16//= //4// or //-4// = 4 or 5 Following is the table for digital values of some powers: Table 2 // x^1 // 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 // x^2// 1 4 9 7 7 9 4 1 9 // x^3// 1 8 9 1 8 9 1 8 9 // x^4// 1 7 9 4 4 9 7 1 9 // x^5// 1 5 9 7 2 9 4 8 9 // x^6// 1 1 9 1 1 9 1 1 9 // x^7// 1 2 9 4 5 9 7 8 9 // x^8// 1 4 9 7 7 9 4 1 9 // x^9// 1 8 9 1 8 9 1 8 9 There is repetition in the digital values of the numbers raised to increasing powers. For 1 : 1 For 2 : 4,8,7,5,1,2 For 3 : 9 For 4 : 7,1,4 For 5 : 7,8,4,2,1,5 For 6 : 9 For 7 : 4,1,7 For 8 : 1,8 For 9 : 9 Following this repetition digital value of any number raised to any natural power can be determined. For e.g. //14^11// = //5^11//=//5^5// [following the repetition] = 2 For //x^(1/b)// , x belongs to R, b belongs to Z , a digital root between 1 to 9 exists only if it is present in the Table 2 in the row of bth power of x. Otherwise the digital root is represented by //x^(1/b)// only. For e.g. ?3,?2 These values are called digitally imaginary numbers (DI). 2.4 Digital values of imaginary numbers We know that // a^b // =// A^b // when //a//= //A// Using the above relation, when b= (1/2), a= -1, A= 8; // i // =// ?(-1)//=//?8// //?(-5) //=//?4//= 2 or 7 [two values because we cannot have a rational value of ?(-5) ] OR //?(-5) =//?5 i//=//?5.?8 //=//?4//= 2 or 7 In this way we can find the digital value of a complex number. As in case of digital roots[2] the digital values also show the repetition in addition (Table 3), subtraction (Table 4), multiplication (Table 5)and division. Table 3: Addition Table + 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Table 4: Subtraction table 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 2 1 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 3 2 1 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 4 3 2 1 9 8 7 6 5 4 5 4 3 2 1 9 8 7 6 5 6 5 4 3 2 1 9 8 7 6 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 9 8 7 6 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 9 8 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 9 Table 5: Multiplication Table X 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 2 2 4 6 8 1 3 5 7 9 3 3 6 9 3 6 9 3 6 9 4 4 8 3 7 2 6 1 5 9 5 5 1 6 2 7 3 8 4 9 6 6 3 9 6 3 9 6 3 9 7 7 5 3 1 8 6 4 2 9 8 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 3 Equality of digital values For two equal quantities are equal the following properties of digital roots are important: ?If two quantities are equal there digital values must be equal. This property may be used to Check calculations: See if digital values of both sides are equal or not. If they are not equal then the calculation is incorrect. To find a missing digit: Find the digital value of the known side. Then apply trial and error to put the unknown digit so that the digital values of both sides are equal. ? If a DI occurs in digital value of LHS of any equation it must occur in that of RHS too. 4. Digital value in functions and equations In functions and equations digital values have following properties: ?For any function (13) //f(x)// = // f (//x//) // ? In a system of equations with unique solution, the solution can be represented by an expression containing coefficients. So, if two systems of equations have equal digital values of corresponding coefficients of corresponding equations, then the corresponding roots have equal digital values. i.e. a_11 x+ b_11 y+ c_11=0 a_12 x+ b_12 y+ c_12=0 AND a_21 x+ b_21 y+ c_21=0 a_22 x+ b_22 y+ c_22=0 Will have same digital values of x as well as y if //a_11//=// a_21// //b_11//=// b_21// //c_11//=// c_21// ?If //a_1//=//b_1// //a_2//=//b_2// //a_3//=//b_3// †¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦.. //a_n//=//b_n// (14) Then (x-a_1 )(x-a_2 )(x-a_3 )†¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦..(x-a_n) and (x-b_1 )(x-b_2 )(x-b_3 )†¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦..(x-b_n) are equi-digital. The converse is not always true. ?In case of quadratic equation the converse is true when the roots are distinct. 4. Conclusion The paper has introduced a concept of digital values which provides a way not for verifying calculations involving not only integers but any complex number. Now any complex calculation can be checked but one should be careful that if digital values of LHS and RHS are equal it does not necessarily mean that LHS = RHS. But if they are not equal then LHS cannot be equal to RHS. We have also studied the properties of digital values in functions and equations. We have also learnt how to use the property of digital value to find a missing digit in calculations. It may seem strange to learn a way of checking a calculation when so many accurate computers are available but we must have the knowledge of the interesting properties of numbers. References: [1] Weisstein, Eric W. Digital Root. From MathWorldA Wolfram Web Resource. http://mathworld.wolfram.com/DigitalRoot.html [2] Teknomo,K.,Digital Root http://people.revoledu.com/kardi/ ,Page2 [3] Teknomo,K.,Digital Root http://people.revoledu.com/kardi/ ,Page7-8 Research Papers on Digital Values - Math Research PaperIncorporating Risk and Uncertainty Factor in CapitalThe Relationship Between Delinquency and Drug UseResearch Process Part OneBionic Assembly System: A New Concept of SelfAnalysis of Ebay Expanding into AsiaComparison: Letter from Birmingham and CritoAnalysis Of A Cosmetics AdvertisementRiordan Manufacturing Production PlanDefinition of Export QuotasOpen Architechture a white paper

Angels Demons Chapter 9397

Still he clawed on. Somewhere a voice was telling him to move left. If you can get to the main aisle, you can dash for the exit. He knew it was impossible. There’s a wall of flames blocking the main aisle! His mind hunting for options, Langdon scrambled blindly on. The footsteps closed faster now to his right. When it happened, Langdon was unprepared. He had guessed he had another ten feet of pews until he reached the front of the church. He had guessed wrong. Without warning, the cover above him ran out. He froze for an instant, half exposed at the front of the church. Rising in the recess to his left, gargantuan from this vantage point, was the very thing that had brought him here. He had entirely forgotten. Bernini’s Ecstasy of St. Teresa rose up like some sort of pornographic still life†¦ the saint on her back, arched in pleasure, mouth open in a moan, and over her, an angel pointing his spear of fire. A bullet exploded in the pew over Langdon’s head. He felt his body rise like a sprinter out of a gate. Fueled only by adrenaline, and barely conscious of his actions, he was suddenly running, hunched, head down, pounding across the front of the church to his right. As the bullets erupted behind him, Langdon dove yet again, sliding out of control across the marble floor before crashing in a heap against the railing of a niche on the right-hand wall. It was then that he saw her. A crumpled heap near the back of the church. Vittoria! Her bare legs were twisted beneath her, but Langdon sensed somehow that she was breathing. He had no time to help her. Immediately, the killer rounded the pews on the far left of the church and bore relentlessly down. Langdon knew in a heartbeat it was over. The killer raised the weapon, and Langdon did the only thing he could do. He rolled his body over the banister into the niche. As he hit the floor on the other side, the marble columns of the balustrade exploded in a storm of bullets. Langdon felt like a cornered animal as he scrambled deeper into the semicircular niche. Rising before him, the niche’s sole contents seemed ironically apropos – a single sarcophagus. Mine perhaps, Langdon thought. Even the casket itself seemed fitting. It was a sctola – a small, unadorned, marble box. Burial on a budget. The casket was raised off the floor on two marble blocks, and Langdon eyed the opening beneath it, wondering if he could slide through. Footsteps echoed behind him. With no other option in sight, Langdon pressed himself to the floor and slithered toward the casket. Grabbing the two marble supports, one with each hand, he pulled like a breaststroker, dragging his torso into the opening beneath the tomb. The gun went off. Accompanying the roar of the gun, Langdon felt a sensation he had never felt in his life†¦ a bullet sailing past his flesh. There was a hiss of wind, like the backlash of a whip, as the bullet just missed him and exploded in the marble with a puff of dust. Blood surging, Langdon heaved his body the rest of the way beneath the casket. Scrambling across the marble floor, he pulled himself out from beneath the casket and to the other side. Dead end. Langdon was now face to face with the rear wall of the niche. He had no doubt that this tiny space behind the tomb would become his grave. And soon, he realized, as he saw the barrel of the gun appear in the opening beneath the sarcophagus. The Hassassin held the weapon parallel with the floor, pointing directly at Langdon’s midsection. Impossible to miss. Langdon felt a trace of self-preservation grip his unconscious mind. He twisted his body onto his stomach, parallel with the casket. Facedown, he planted his hands flat on the floor, the glass cut from the archives pinching open with a stab. Ignoring the pain, he pushed. Driving his body upward in an awkward push-up, Langdon arched his stomach off the floor just as the gun went off. He could feel the shock wave of the bullets as they sailed beneath him and pulverized the porous travertine behind. Closing his eyes and straining against exhaustion, Langdon prayed for the thunder to stop. And then it did. The roar of gunfire was replaced with the cold click of an empty chamber. Langdon opened his eyes slowly, almost fearful his eyelids would make a sound. Fighting the trembling pain, he held his position, arched like a cat. He didn’t even dare breathe. His eardrums numbed by gunfire, Langdon listened for any hint of the killer’s departure. Silence. He thought of Vittoria and ached to help her. The sound that followed was deafening. Barely human. A guttural bellow of exertion. The sarcophagus over Langdon’s head suddenly seemed to rise on its side. Langdon collapsed on the floor as hundreds of pounds teetered toward him. Gravity overcame friction, and the lid was the first to go, sliding off the tomb and crashing to the floor beside him. The casket came next, rolling off its supports and toppling upside down toward Langdon. As the box rolled, Langdon knew he would either be entombed in the hollow beneath it or crushed by one of the edges. Pulling in his legs and head, Langdon compacted his body and yanked his arms to his sides. Then he closed his eyes and awaited the sickening crush. When it came, the entire floor shook beneath him. The upper rim landed only millimeters from the top of his head, rattling his teeth in their sockets. His right arm, which Langdon had been certain would be crushed, miraculously still felt intact. He opened his eyes to see a shaft of light. The right rim of the casket had not fallen all the way to the floor and was still propped partially on its supports. Directly overhead, though, Langdon found himself staring quite literally into the face of death. The original occupant of the tomb was suspended above him, having adhered, as decaying bodies often did, to the bottom of the casket. The skeleton hovered a moment, like a tentative lover, and then with a sticky crackling, it succumbed to gravity and peeled away. The carcass rushed down to embrace him, raining putrid bones and dust into Langdon’s eyes and mouth. Before Langdon could react, a blind arm was slithering through the opening beneath the casket, sifting through the carcass like a hungry python. It groped until it found Langdon’s neck and clamped down. Langdon tried to fight back against the iron fist now crushing his larynx, but he found his left sleeve pinched beneath the edge of the coffin. He had only one arm free, and the fight was a losing battle. Langdon’s legs bent in the only open space he had, his feet searching for the casket floor above him. He found it. Coiling, he planted his feet. Then, as the hand around his neck squeezed tighter, Langdon closed his eyes and extended his legs like a ram. The casket shifted, ever so slightly, but enough. With a raw grinding, the sarcophagus slid off the supports and landed on the floor. The casket rim crashed onto the killer’s arm, and there was a muffled scream of pain. The hand released Langdon’s neck, twisting and jerking away into the dark. When the killer finally pulled his arm free, the casket fell with a conclusive thud against the flat marble floor. Complete darkness. Again. And silence. There was no frustrated pounding outside the overturned sarcophagus. No prying to get in. Nothing. As Langdon lay in the dark amidst a pile of bones, he fought the closing darkness and turned his thoughts to her. Vittoria. Are you alive? If Langdon had known the truth – the horror to which Vittoria would soon awake – he would have wished for her sake that she were dead. 94 Sitting in the Sistine Chapel among his stunned colleagues, Cardinal Mortati tried to comprehend the words he was hearing. Before him, lit only by the candlelight, the camerlegno had just told a tale of such hatred and treachery that Mortati found himself trembling. The camerlegno spoke of kidnapped cardinals, branded cardinals, murdered cardinals. He spoke of the ancient Illuminati – a name that dredged up forgotten fears – and of their resurgence and vow of revenge against the church. With pain in his voice, the camerlegno spoke of his late Pope†¦ the victim of an Illuminati poisoning. And finally, his words almost a whisper, he spoke of a deadly new technology, antimatter, which in less than two hours threatened to destroy all of Vatican City. When he was through, it was as if Satan himself had sucked the air from the room. Nobody could move. The camerlegno’s words hung in the darkness. The only sound Mortati could now hear was the anomalous hum of a television camera in back – an electronic presence no conclave in history had ever endured – but a presence demanded by the camerlegno. To the utter astonishment of the cardinals, the camerlegno had entered the Sistine Chapel with two BBC reporters – a man and a woman – and announced that they would be transmitting his solemn statement, live to the world. Now, speaking directly to the camera, the camerlegno stepped forward. â€Å"To the Illuminati,† he said, his voice deepening, â€Å"and to those of science, let me say this.† He paused. â€Å"You have won the war.† The silence spread now to the deepest corners of the chapel. Mortati could hear the desperate thumping of his own heart. â€Å"The wheels have been in motion for a long time,† the camerlegno said. â€Å"Your victory has been inevitable. Never before has it been as obvious as it is at this moment. Science is the new God.† What is he saying? Mortati thought. Has he gone mad? The entire world is hearing this! â€Å"Medicine, electronic communications, space travel, genetic manipulation†¦ these are the miracles about which we now tell our children. These are the miracles we herald as proof that science will bring us the answers. The ancient stories of immaculate conceptions, burning bushes, and parting seas are no longer relevant. God has become obsolete. Science has won the battle. We concede.† A rustle of confusion and bewilderment swept through the chapel. â€Å"But science’s victory,† the camerlegno added, his voice intensifying, â€Å"has cost every one of us. And it has cost us deeply.† Silence. â€Å"Science may have alleviated the miseries of disease and drudgery and provided an array of gadgetry for our entertainment and convenience, but it has left us in a world without wonder. Our sunsets have been reduced to wavelengths and frequencies. The complexities of the universe have been shredded into mathematical equations. Even our self-worth as human beings has been destroyed. Science proclaims that Planet Earth and its inhabitants are a meaningless speck in the grand scheme. A cosmic accident.† He paused. â€Å"Even the technology that promises to unite us, divides us. Each of us is now electronically connected to the globe, and yet we feel utterly alone. We are bombarded with violence, division, fracture, and betrayal. Skepticism has become a virtue. Cynicism and demand for proof has become enlightened thought. Is it any wonder that humans now feel more depressed and defeated than they have at any point in human history? Does science hold anything sacred? Science l ooks for answers by probing our unborn fetuses. Science even presumes to rearrange our own DNA. It shatters God’s world into smaller and smaller pieces in quest of meaning†¦ and all it finds is more questions.† Mortati watched in awe. The camerlegno was almost hypnotic now. He had a physical strength in his movements and voice that Mortati had never witnessed on a Vatican altar. The man’s voice was wrought with conviction and sadness. â€Å"The ancient war between science and religion is over,† the camerlegno said. â€Å"You have won. But you have not won fairly. You have not won by providing answers. You have won by so radically reorienting our society that the truths we once saw as signposts now seem inapplicable. Religion cannot keep up. Scientific growth is exponential. It feeds on itself like a virus. Every new breakthrough opens doors for new breakthroughs. Mankind took thousands of years to progress from the wheel to the car. Yet only decades from the car into space. Now we measure scientific progress in weeks. We are spinning out of control. The rift between us grows deeper and deeper, and as religion is left behind, people find themselves in a spiritual void. We cry out for meaning. And believe me, we do cry out. We see UFOs, engage in channeling, spirit contact, out-of-body experiences, mindquests – all these eccentric ideas have a scientific veneer, but they are unashamedly irrational. Th ey are the desperate cry of the modern soul, lonely and tormented, crippled by its own enlightenment and its inability to accept meaning in anything removed from technology.† Mortati could feel himself leaning forward in his seat. He and the other cardinals and people around the world were hanging on this priest’s every utterance. The camerlegno spoke with no rhetoric or vitriol. No references to scripture or Jesus Christ. He spoke in modern terms, unadorned and pure. Somehow, as though the words were flowing from God himself, he spoke the modern language†¦ delivering the ancient message. In that moment, Mortati saw one of the reasons the late Pope held this young man so dear. In a world of apathy, cynicism, and technological deification, men like the camerlegno, realists who could speak to our souls like this man just had, were the church’s only hope. The camerlegno was talking more forcefully now. â€Å"Science, you say, will save us. Science, I say, has destroyed us. Since the days of Galileo, the church has tried to slow the relentless march of science, sometimes with misguided means, but always with benevolent intention. Even so, the temptations are too great for man to resist. I warn you, look around yourselves. The promises of science have not been kept. Promises of efficiency and simplicity have bred nothing but pollution and chaos. We are a fractured and frantic species†¦ moving down a path of destruction.† The camerlegno paused a long moment and then sharpened his eyes on the camera. â€Å"Who is this God science? Who is the God who offers his people power but no moral framework to tell you how to use that power? What kind of God gives a child fire but does not warn the child of its dangers? The language of science comes with no signposts about good and bad. Science textbooks tell us how to create a nuclear reaction, and yet they contain no chapter asking us if it is a good or a bad idea. â€Å"To science, I say this. The church is tired. We are exhausted from trying to be your signposts. Our resources are drying up from our campaign to be the voice of balance as you plow blindly on in your quest for smaller chips and larger profits. We ask not why you will not govern yourselves, but how can you? Your world moves so fast that if you stop even for an instant to consider the implications of your actions, someone more efficient will whip past you in a blur. So you move on. You proliferate weapons of mass destruction, but it is the Pope who travels the world beseeching leaders to use restraint. You clone living creatures, but it is the church reminding us to consider the moral implications of our actions. You encourage people to interact on phones, video screens, and computers, but it is the church who opens its doors and reminds us to commune in person as we were meant to do. You even murder unborn babies in the name of research that will save lives. Again, it is the ch urch who points out the fallacy of this reasoning. â€Å"And all the while, you proclaim the church is ignorant. But who is more ignorant? The man who cannot define lightning, or the man who does not respect its awesome power? This church is reaching out to you. Reaching out to everyone. And yet the more we reach, the more you push us away. Show me proof there is a God, you say. I say use your telescopes to look to the heavens, and tell me how there could not be a God!† The camerlegno had tears in his eyes now. â€Å"You ask what does God look like. I say, where did that question come from? The answers are one and the same. Do you not see God in your science? How can you miss Him! You proclaim that even the slightest change in the force of gravity or the weight of an atom would have rendered our universe a lifeless mist rather than our magnificent sea of heavenly bodies, and yet you fail to see God’s hand in this? Is it really so much easier to believe that we simply chose the right card from a deck of billions? Have w e become so spiritually bankrupt that we would rather believe in mathematical impossibility than in a power greater than us? â€Å"Whether or not you believe in God,† the camerlegno said, his voice deepening with deliberation, â€Å"you must believe this. When we as a species abandon our trust in the power greater than us, we abandon our sense of accountability. Faith†¦ all faiths†¦ are admonitions that there is something we cannot understand, something to which we are accountable†¦ With faith we are accountable to each other, to ourselves, and to a higher truth. Religion is flawed, but only because man is flawed. If the outside world could see this church as I do†¦ looking beyond the ritual of these walls†¦ they would see a modern miracle†¦ a brotherhood of imperfect, simple souls wanting only to be a voice of compassion in a world spinning out of control.† The camerlegno motioned out over the College of Cardinals, and the BBC camerawoman instinctively followed, panning the crowd. â€Å"Are we obsolete?† the camerlegno asked. â€Å"Are these men dino-saurs? Am I? Does the world really need a voice for the poor, the weak, the oppressed, the unborn child? Do we really need souls like these who, though imperfect, spend their lives imploring each of us to read the signposts of morality and not lose our way?† Mortati now realized that the camerlegno, whether consciously or not, was making a brilliant move. By showing the cardinals, he was personalizing the church. Vatican City was no longer a building, it was people – people like the camerlegno who had spent their lives in the service of goodness. â€Å"Tonight we are perched on a precipice,† the camerlegno said. â€Å"None of us can afford to be apathetic. Whether you see this evil as Satan, corruption, or immorality†¦ the dark force is alive and growing every day. Do not ignore it.† The camerlegno lowered his voice to a whisper, and the camera moved in. â€Å"The force, though mighty, is not invincible. Goodness can prevail. Listen to your hearts. Listen to God. Together we can step back from this abyss.† Now Mortati understood. This was the reason. Conclave had been violated, but this was the only way. It was a dramatic and desperate plea for help. The camerlegno was speaking to both his enemy and his friends now. He was entreating anyone, friend or foe, to see the light and stop this madness. Certainly someone listening would realize the insanity of this plot and come forward. The camerlegno knelt at the altar. â€Å"Pray with me.† The College of Cardinals dropped to their knees to join him in prayer. Outside in St. Peter’s Square and around the globe†¦ a stunned world knelt with them. 95 The Hassassin lay his unconscious trophy in the rear of the van and took a moment to admire her sprawled body. She was not as beautiful as the women he bought, and yet she had an animal strength that excited him. Her body was radiant, dewy with perspiration. She smelled of musk. As the Hassasin stood there savoring his prize, he ignored the throb in his arm. The bruise from the falling sarcophagus, although painful, was insignificant†¦ well worth the compensation that lay before him. He took consolation in knowing the American who had done this to him was probably dead by now. Gazing down at his incapacitated prisoner, the Hassassin visualized what lay ahead. He ran a palm up beneath her shirt. Her breasts felt perfect beneath her bra. Yes, he smiled. You are more than worthy. Fighting the urge to take her right there, he closed the door and drove off into the night. There was no need to alert the press about this killing†¦ the flames would do that for him. At CERN, Sylvie sat stunned by the camerlegno’s address. Never before had she felt so proud to be a Catholic and so ashamed to work at CERN. As she left the recreational wing, the mood in every single viewing room was dazed and somber. When she got back to Kohler’s office, all seven phone lines were ringing. Media inquiries were never routed to Kohler’s office, so the incoming calls could only be one thing. Geld. Money calls. Antimatter technology already had some takers. Inside the Vatican, Gunther Glick was walking on air as he followed the camerlegno from the Sistine Chapel. Glick and Macri had just made the live transmission of the decade. And what a transmission it had been. The camerlegno had been spellbinding. Now out in the hallway, the camerlegno turned to Glick and Macri. â€Å"I have asked the Swiss Guard to assemble photos for you – photos of the branded cardinals as well as one of His late Holiness. I must warn you, these are not pleasant pictures. Ghastly burns. Blackened tongues. But I would like you to broadcast them to the world.† Glick decided it must be perpetual Christmas inside Vatican City. He wants me to broadcast an exclusive photo of the dead Pope? â€Å"Are you sure?† Glick asked, trying to keep the excitement from his voice. The camerlegno nodded. â€Å"The Swiss Guard will also provide you a live video feed of the antimatter canister as it counts down.† Glick stared. Christmas. Christmas. Christmas! â€Å"The Illuminati are about to find out,† the camerlegno declared, â€Å"that they have grossly overplayed their hand.† 96 Like a recurring theme in some demonic symphony, the suffocating darkness had returned. No light. No air. No exit. Langdon lay trapped beneath the overturned sarcophagus and felt his mind careening dangerously close to the brink. Trying to drive his thoughts in any direction other than the crushing space around him, Langdon urged his mind toward some logical process†¦ mathematics, music, anything. But there was no room for calming thoughts. I can’t move! I can’t breathe! The pinched sleeve of his jacket had thankfully come free when the casket fell, leaving Langdon now with two mobile arms. Even so, as he pressed upward on the ceiling of his tiny cell, he found it immovable. Oddly, he wished his sleeve were still caught. At least it might create a crack for some air. As Langdon pushed against the roof above, his sleeve fell back to reveal the faint glow of an old friend. Mickey. The greenish cartoon face seemed mocking now. Langdon probed the blackness for any other sign of light, but the casket rim was flush against the floor. Goddamn Italian perfectionists, he cursed, now imperiled by the same artistic excellence he taught his students to revere†¦ impeccable edges, faultless parallels, and of course, use only of the most seamless and resilient Carrara marble. Precision can be suffocating. â€Å"Lift the damn thing,† he said aloud, pressing harder through the tangle of bones. The box shifted slightly. Setting his jaw, he heaved again. The box felt like a boulder, but this time it raised a quarter of an inch. A fleeting glimmer of light surrounded him, and then the casket thudded back down. Langdon lay panting in the dark. He tried to use his legs to lift as he had before, but now that the sarcophagus had fallen flat, there was no room even to straighten his knees. As the claustrophobic panic closed in, Langdon was overcome by images of the sarcophagus shrinking around him. Squeezed by delirium, he fought the illusion with every logical shred of intellect he had. â€Å"Sarcophagus,† he stated aloud, with as much academic sterility as he could muster. But even erudition seemed to be his enemy today. Sarcophagus is from the Greek â€Å"sarx† meaning â€Å"flesh,† and â€Å"phagein† meaning â€Å"to eat.† I’m trapped in a box literally designed to â€Å"eat flesh.† Images of flesh eaten from bone only served as a grim reminder that Langdon lay covered in human remains. The notion brought nausea and chills. But it also brought an idea. Fumbling blindly around the coffin, Langdon found a shard of bone. A rib maybe? He didn’t care. All he wanted was a wedge. If he could lift the box, even a crack, and slide the bone fragment beneath the rim, then maybe enough air could†¦ Reaching across his body and wedging the tapered end of the bone into the crack between the floor and the coffin, Langdon reached up with his other hand and heaved skyward. The box did not move. Not even slightly. He tried again. For a moment, it seemed to tremble slightly, but that was all. With the fetid stench and lack of oxygen choking the strength from his body, Langdon realized he only had time for one more effort. He also knew he would need both arms. Regrouping, he placed the tapered edge of the bone against the crack, and shifting his body, he wedged the bone against his shoulder, pinning it in place. Careful not to dislodge it, he raised both hands above him. As the stifling confine began to smother him, he felt a welling of intensified panic. It was the second time today he had been trapped with no air. Hollering aloud, Langdon thrust upward in one explosive motion. The casket jostled off the floor for an instant. But long enough. The bone shard he had braced against his shoulder slipped outward into the widening crack. When the casket fell again, the bone shattered. But this time Langdon could see the casket was propped up. A tiny slit of light showed beneath the rim. Exhausted, Langdon collapsed. Hoping the strangling sensation in his throat would pass, he waited. But it only worsened as the seconds passed. Whatever air was coming through the slit seemed imperceptible. Langdon wondered if it would be enough to keep him alive. And if so, for how long? If he passed out, who would know he was even in there? With arms like lead, Langdon raised his watch again: 10:12 P.M. Fighting trembling fingers, he fumbled with the watch and made his final play. He twisted one of the tiny dials and pressed a button. As consciousness faded, and the walls squeezed closer, Langdon felt the old fears sweep over him. He tried to imagine, as he had so many times, that he was in an open field. The image he conjured, however, was no help. The nightmare that had haunted him since his youth came crashing back†¦ The flowers here are like paintings, the child thought, laughing as he ran across the meadow. He wished his parents had come along. But his parents were busy pitching camp. â€Å"Don’t explore too far,† his mother had said. He had pretended not to hear as he bounded off into the woods. Now, traversing this glorious field, the boy came across a pile of fieldstones. He figured it must be the foundation of an old homestead. He would not go near it. He knew better. Besides, his eyes had been drawn to something else – a brilliant lady’s slipper – the rarest and most beautiful flower in New Hampshire. He had only ever seen them in books. Excited, the boy moved toward the flower. He knelt down. The ground beneath him felt mulchy and hollow. He realized his flower had found an extra-fertile spot. It was growing from a patch of rotting wood. Thrilled by the thought of taking home his prize, the boy reached out†¦ fingers extending toward the stem. He never reached it. With a sickening crack, the earth gave way. In the three seconds of dizzying terror as he fell, the boy knew he would die. Plummeting downward, he braced for the bone-crushing collision. When it came, there was no pain. Only softness. And cold. He hit the deep liquid face first, plunging into a narrow blackness. Spinning disoriented somersaults, he groped the sheer walls thatenclosed him on all sides. Somehow, as if by instinct, he sputtered to the surface. Light. Faint. Above him. Miles above him, it seemed. His arms clawed at the water, searching the walls of the hollow for something to grab onto. Only smooth stone. He had fallen through an abandoned well covering. He screamed for help, but his cries reverberated in the tight shaft. He called out again and again. Above him, the tattered hole grew dim. Night fell. Time seemed to contort in the darkness. Numbness set in as he treaded water in the depths of the chasm, calling, crying out. He was tormented by visions of the walls collapsing in, burying him alive. His arms ached with fatigue. A few times he thought he heard voices. He shouted out, but his own voice was muted†¦ like a dream. As the night wore on, the shaft deepened. The walls inched quietly inward. The boy pressed out against the enclosure, pushing it away. Exhausted, he wanted to give up. And yet he felt the water buoy him, cooling his burning fears until he was numb. When the rescue team arrived, they found the boy barely conscious. He had been treading water for five hours. Two days later, the Boston Globe ran a front-page story called â€Å"The Little Swimmer That Could.† 97 The Hassassin smiled as he pulled his van into the mammoth stone structure overlooking the Tiber River. He carried his prize up and up†¦ spiraling higher in the stone tunnel, grateful his load was slender. He arrived at the door. The Church of Illumination, he gloated. The ancient Illuminati meeting room. Who would have imagined it to be here? Inside, he lay her on a plush divan. Then he expertly bound her arms behind her back and tied her feet. He knew that what he longed for would have to wait until his final task was finished. Water. Still, he thought, he had a moment for indulgence. Kneeling beside her, he ran his hand along her thigh. It was smooth. Higher. His dark fingers snaked beneath the cuff of her shorts. Higher. He stopped. Patience, he told himself, feeling aroused. There is work to be done. He walked for a moment out onto the chamber’s high stone balcony. The evening breeze slowly cooled his ardor. Far below the Tiber raged. He raised his eyes to the dome of St. Peter’s, three quarters of a mile away, naked under the glare of hundreds of press lights. â€Å"Your final hour,† he said aloud, picturing the thousands of Muslims slaughtered during the Crusades. â€Å"At midnight you will meet your God.† Behind him, the woman stirred. The Hassassin turned. He considered letting her wake up. Seeing terror in a woman’s eyes was his ultimate aphrodisiac. He opted for prudence. It would be better if she remained unconscious while he was gone. Although she was tied and would never escape, the Hassassin did not want to return and find her exhausted from struggling. I want your strength preserved†¦ for me. Lifting her head slightly, he placed his palm beneath her neck and found the hollow directly beneath her skull. The crown/meridian pressure point was one he had used countless times. With crushing force, he drove his thumb into the soft cartilage and felt it depress. The woman slumped instantly. Twenty minutes, he thought. She would be a tantalizing end to a perfect day. After she had served him and died doing it, he would stand on the balcony and watch the midnight Vatican fireworks. Leaving his prize unconscious on the couch, the Hassassin went downstairs into a torchlit dungeon. The final task. He walked to the table and revered the sacred, metal forms that had been left there for him. Water. It was his last. Removing a torch from the wall as he had done three times already, he began heating the end. When the end of the object was white hot, he carried it to the cell. Inside, a single man stood in silence. Old and alone. â€Å"Cardinal Baggia,† the killer hissed. â€Å"Have you prayed yet?† The Italian’s eyes were fearless. â€Å"Only for your soul.† Angels Demons Chapter 9397 Still he clawed on. Somewhere a voice was telling him to move left. If you can get to the main aisle, you can dash for the exit. He knew it was impossible. There’s a wall of flames blocking the main aisle! His mind hunting for options, Langdon scrambled blindly on. The footsteps closed faster now to his right. When it happened, Langdon was unprepared. He had guessed he had another ten feet of pews until he reached the front of the church. He had guessed wrong. Without warning, the cover above him ran out. He froze for an instant, half exposed at the front of the church. Rising in the recess to his left, gargantuan from this vantage point, was the very thing that had brought him here. He had entirely forgotten. Bernini’s Ecstasy of St. Teresa rose up like some sort of pornographic still life†¦ the saint on her back, arched in pleasure, mouth open in a moan, and over her, an angel pointing his spear of fire. A bullet exploded in the pew over Langdon’s head. He felt his body rise like a sprinter out of a gate. Fueled only by adrenaline, and barely conscious of his actions, he was suddenly running, hunched, head down, pounding across the front of the church to his right. As the bullets erupted behind him, Langdon dove yet again, sliding out of control across the marble floor before crashing in a heap against the railing of a niche on the right-hand wall. It was then that he saw her. A crumpled heap near the back of the church. Vittoria! Her bare legs were twisted beneath her, but Langdon sensed somehow that she was breathing. He had no time to help her. Immediately, the killer rounded the pews on the far left of the church and bore relentlessly down. Langdon knew in a heartbeat it was over. The killer raised the weapon, and Langdon did the only thing he could do. He rolled his body over the banister into the niche. As he hit the floor on the other side, the marble columns of the balustrade exploded in a storm of bullets. Langdon felt like a cornered animal as he scrambled deeper into the semicircular niche. Rising before him, the niche’s sole contents seemed ironically apropos – a single sarcophagus. Mine perhaps, Langdon thought. Even the casket itself seemed fitting. It was a sctola – a small, unadorned, marble box. Burial on a budget. The casket was raised off the floor on two marble blocks, and Langdon eyed the opening beneath it, wondering if he could slide through. Footsteps echoed behind him. With no other option in sight, Langdon pressed himself to the floor and slithered toward the casket. Grabbing the two marble supports, one with each hand, he pulled like a breaststroker, dragging his torso into the opening beneath the tomb. The gun went off. Accompanying the roar of the gun, Langdon felt a sensation he had never felt in his life†¦ a bullet sailing past his flesh. There was a hiss of wind, like the backlash of a whip, as the bullet just missed him and exploded in the marble with a puff of dust. Blood surging, Langdon heaved his body the rest of the way beneath the casket. Scrambling across the marble floor, he pulled himself out from beneath the casket and to the other side. Dead end. Langdon was now face to face with the rear wall of the niche. He had no doubt that this tiny space behind the tomb would become his grave. And soon, he realized, as he saw the barrel of the gun appear in the opening beneath the sarcophagus. The Hassassin held the weapon parallel with the floor, pointing directly at Langdon’s midsection. Impossible to miss. Langdon felt a trace of self-preservation grip his unconscious mind. He twisted his body onto his stomach, parallel with the casket. Facedown, he planted his hands flat on the floor, the glass cut from the archives pinching open with a stab. Ignoring the pain, he pushed. Driving his body upward in an awkward push-up, Langdon arched his stomach off the floor just as the gun went off. He could feel the shock wave of the bullets as they sailed beneath him and pulverized the porous travertine behind. Closing his eyes and straining against exhaustion, Langdon prayed for the thunder to stop. And then it did. The roar of gunfire was replaced with the cold click of an empty chamber. Langdon opened his eyes slowly, almost fearful his eyelids would make a sound. Fighting the trembling pain, he held his position, arched like a cat. He didn’t even dare breathe. His eardrums numbed by gunfire, Langdon listened for any hint of the killer’s departure. Silence. He thought of Vittoria and ached to help her. The sound that followed was deafening. Barely human. A guttural bellow of exertion. The sarcophagus over Langdon’s head suddenly seemed to rise on its side. Langdon collapsed on the floor as hundreds of pounds teetered toward him. Gravity overcame friction, and the lid was the first to go, sliding off the tomb and crashing to the floor beside him. The casket came next, rolling off its supports and toppling upside down toward Langdon. As the box rolled, Langdon knew he would either be entombed in the hollow beneath it or crushed by one of the edges. Pulling in his legs and head, Langdon compacted his body and yanked his arms to his sides. Then he closed his eyes and awaited the sickening crush. When it came, the entire floor shook beneath him. The upper rim landed only millimeters from the top of his head, rattling his teeth in their sockets. His right arm, which Langdon had been certain would be crushed, miraculously still felt intact. He opened his eyes to see a shaft of light. The right rim of the casket had not fallen all the way to the floor and was still propped partially on its supports. Directly overhead, though, Langdon found himself staring quite literally into the face of death. The original occupant of the tomb was suspended above him, having adhered, as decaying bodies often did, to the bottom of the casket. The skeleton hovered a moment, like a tentative lover, and then with a sticky crackling, it succumbed to gravity and peeled away. The carcass rushed down to embrace him, raining putrid bones and dust into Langdon’s eyes and mouth. Before Langdon could react, a blind arm was slithering through the opening beneath the casket, sifting through the carcass like a hungry python. It groped until it found Langdon’s neck and clamped down. Langdon tried to fight back against the iron fist now crushing his larynx, but he found his left sleeve pinched beneath the edge of the coffin. He had only one arm free, and the fight was a losing battle. Langdon’s legs bent in the only open space he had, his feet searching for the casket floor above him. He found it. Coiling, he planted his feet. Then, as the hand around his neck squeezed tighter, Langdon closed his eyes and extended his legs like a ram. The casket shifted, ever so slightly, but enough. With a raw grinding, the sarcophagus slid off the supports and landed on the floor. The casket rim crashed onto the killer’s arm, and there was a muffled scream of pain. The hand released Langdon’s neck, twisting and jerking away into the dark. When the killer finally pulled his arm free, the casket fell with a conclusive thud against the flat marble floor. Complete darkness. Again. And silence. There was no frustrated pounding outside the overturned sarcophagus. No prying to get in. Nothing. As Langdon lay in the dark amidst a pile of bones, he fought the closing darkness and turned his thoughts to her. Vittoria. Are you alive? If Langdon had known the truth – the horror to which Vittoria would soon awake – he would have wished for her sake that she were dead. 94 Sitting in the Sistine Chapel among his stunned colleagues, Cardinal Mortati tried to comprehend the words he was hearing. Before him, lit only by the candlelight, the camerlegno had just told a tale of such hatred and treachery that Mortati found himself trembling. The camerlegno spoke of kidnapped cardinals, branded cardinals, murdered cardinals. He spoke of the ancient Illuminati – a name that dredged up forgotten fears – and of their resurgence and vow of revenge against the church. With pain in his voice, the camerlegno spoke of his late Pope†¦ the victim of an Illuminati poisoning. And finally, his words almost a whisper, he spoke of a deadly new technology, antimatter, which in less than two hours threatened to destroy all of Vatican City. When he was through, it was as if Satan himself had sucked the air from the room. Nobody could move. The camerlegno’s words hung in the darkness. The only sound Mortati could now hear was the anomalous hum of a television camera in back – an electronic presence no conclave in history had ever endured – but a presence demanded by the camerlegno. To the utter astonishment of the cardinals, the camerlegno had entered the Sistine Chapel with two BBC reporters – a man and a woman – and announced that they would be transmitting his solemn statement, live to the world. Now, speaking directly to the camera, the camerlegno stepped forward. â€Å"To the Illuminati,† he said, his voice deepening, â€Å"and to those of science, let me say this.† He paused. â€Å"You have won the war.† The silence spread now to the deepest corners of the chapel. Mortati could hear the desperate thumping of his own heart. â€Å"The wheels have been in motion for a long time,† the camerlegno said. â€Å"Your victory has been inevitable. Never before has it been as obvious as it is at this moment. Science is the new God.† What is he saying? Mortati thought. Has he gone mad? The entire world is hearing this! â€Å"Medicine, electronic communications, space travel, genetic manipulation†¦ these are the miracles about which we now tell our children. These are the miracles we herald as proof that science will bring us the answers. The ancient stories of immaculate conceptions, burning bushes, and parting seas are no longer relevant. God has become obsolete. Science has won the battle. We concede.† A rustle of confusion and bewilderment swept through the chapel. â€Å"But science’s victory,† the camerlegno added, his voice intensifying, â€Å"has cost every one of us. And it has cost us deeply.† Silence. â€Å"Science may have alleviated the miseries of disease and drudgery and provided an array of gadgetry for our entertainment and convenience, but it has left us in a world without wonder. Our sunsets have been reduced to wavelengths and frequencies. The complexities of the universe have been shredded into mathematical equations. Even our self-worth as human beings has been destroyed. Science proclaims that Planet Earth and its inhabitants are a meaningless speck in the grand scheme. A cosmic accident.† He paused. â€Å"Even the technology that promises to unite us, divides us. Each of us is now electronically connected to the globe, and yet we feel utterly alone. We are bombarded with violence, division, fracture, and betrayal. Skepticism has become a virtue. Cynicism and demand for proof has become enlightened thought. Is it any wonder that humans now feel more depressed and defeated than they have at any point in human history? Does science hold anything sacred? Science l ooks for answers by probing our unborn fetuses. Science even presumes to rearrange our own DNA. It shatters God’s world into smaller and smaller pieces in quest of meaning†¦ and all it finds is more questions.† Mortati watched in awe. The camerlegno was almost hypnotic now. He had a physical strength in his movements and voice that Mortati had never witnessed on a Vatican altar. The man’s voice was wrought with conviction and sadness. â€Å"The ancient war between science and religion is over,† the camerlegno said. â€Å"You have won. But you have not won fairly. You have not won by providing answers. You have won by so radically reorienting our society that the truths we once saw as signposts now seem inapplicable. Religion cannot keep up. Scientific growth is exponential. It feeds on itself like a virus. Every new breakthrough opens doors for new breakthroughs. Mankind took thousands of years to progress from the wheel to the car. Yet only decades from the car into space. Now we measure scientific progress in weeks. We are spinning out of control. The rift between us grows deeper and deeper, and as religion is left behind, people find themselves in a spiritual void. We cry out for meaning. And believe me, we do cry out. We see UFOs, engage in channeling, spirit contact, out-of-body experiences, mindquests – all these eccentric ideas have a scientific veneer, but they are unashamedly irrational. Th ey are the desperate cry of the modern soul, lonely and tormented, crippled by its own enlightenment and its inability to accept meaning in anything removed from technology.† Mortati could feel himself leaning forward in his seat. He and the other cardinals and people around the world were hanging on this priest’s every utterance. The camerlegno spoke with no rhetoric or vitriol. No references to scripture or Jesus Christ. He spoke in modern terms, unadorned and pure. Somehow, as though the words were flowing from God himself, he spoke the modern language†¦ delivering the ancient message. In that moment, Mortati saw one of the reasons the late Pope held this young man so dear. In a world of apathy, cynicism, and technological deification, men like the camerlegno, realists who could speak to our souls like this man just had, were the church’s only hope. The camerlegno was talking more forcefully now. â€Å"Science, you say, will save us. Science, I say, has destroyed us. Since the days of Galileo, the church has tried to slow the relentless march of science, sometimes with misguided means, but always with benevolent intention. Even so, the temptations are too great for man to resist. I warn you, look around yourselves. The promises of science have not been kept. Promises of efficiency and simplicity have bred nothing but pollution and chaos. We are a fractured and frantic species†¦ moving down a path of destruction.† The camerlegno paused a long moment and then sharpened his eyes on the camera. â€Å"Who is this God science? Who is the God who offers his people power but no moral framework to tell you how to use that power? What kind of God gives a child fire but does not warn the child of its dangers? The language of science comes with no signposts about good and bad. Science textbooks tell us how to create a nuclear reaction, and yet they contain no chapter asking us if it is a good or a bad idea. â€Å"To science, I say this. The church is tired. We are exhausted from trying to be your signposts. Our resources are drying up from our campaign to be the voice of balance as you plow blindly on in your quest for smaller chips and larger profits. We ask not why you will not govern yourselves, but how can you? Your world moves so fast that if you stop even for an instant to consider the implications of your actions, someone more efficient will whip past you in a blur. So you move on. You proliferate weapons of mass destruction, but it is the Pope who travels the world beseeching leaders to use restraint. You clone living creatures, but it is the church reminding us to consider the moral implications of our actions. You encourage people to interact on phones, video screens, and computers, but it is the church who opens its doors and reminds us to commune in person as we were meant to do. You even murder unborn babies in the name of research that will save lives. Again, it is the ch urch who points out the fallacy of this reasoning. â€Å"And all the while, you proclaim the church is ignorant. But who is more ignorant? The man who cannot define lightning, or the man who does not respect its awesome power? This church is reaching out to you. Reaching out to everyone. And yet the more we reach, the more you push us away. Show me proof there is a God, you say. I say use your telescopes to look to the heavens, and tell me how there could not be a God!† The camerlegno had tears in his eyes now. â€Å"You ask what does God look like. I say, where did that question come from? The answers are one and the same. Do you not see God in your science? How can you miss Him! You proclaim that even the slightest change in the force of gravity or the weight of an atom would have rendered our universe a lifeless mist rather than our magnificent sea of heavenly bodies, and yet you fail to see God’s hand in this? Is it really so much easier to believe that we simply chose the right card from a deck of billions? Have w e become so spiritually bankrupt that we would rather believe in mathematical impossibility than in a power greater than us? â€Å"Whether or not you believe in God,† the camerlegno said, his voice deepening with deliberation, â€Å"you must believe this. When we as a species abandon our trust in the power greater than us, we abandon our sense of accountability. Faith†¦ all faiths†¦ are admonitions that there is something we cannot understand, something to which we are accountable†¦ With faith we are accountable to each other, to ourselves, and to a higher truth. Religion is flawed, but only because man is flawed. If the outside world could see this church as I do†¦ looking beyond the ritual of these walls†¦ they would see a modern miracle†¦ a brotherhood of imperfect, simple souls wanting only to be a voice of compassion in a world spinning out of control.† The camerlegno motioned out over the College of Cardinals, and the BBC camerawoman instinctively followed, panning the crowd. â€Å"Are we obsolete?† the camerlegno asked. â€Å"Are these men dino-saurs? Am I? Does the world really need a voice for the poor, the weak, the oppressed, the unborn child? Do we really need souls like these who, though imperfect, spend their lives imploring each of us to read the signposts of morality and not lose our way?† Mortati now realized that the camerlegno, whether consciously or not, was making a brilliant move. By showing the cardinals, he was personalizing the church. Vatican City was no longer a building, it was people – people like the camerlegno who had spent their lives in the service of goodness. â€Å"Tonight we are perched on a precipice,† the camerlegno said. â€Å"None of us can afford to be apathetic. Whether you see this evil as Satan, corruption, or immorality†¦ the dark force is alive and growing every day. Do not ignore it.† The camerlegno lowered his voice to a whisper, and the camera moved in. â€Å"The force, though mighty, is not invincible. Goodness can prevail. Listen to your hearts. Listen to God. Together we can step back from this abyss.† Now Mortati understood. This was the reason. Conclave had been violated, but this was the only way. It was a dramatic and desperate plea for help. The camerlegno was speaking to both his enemy and his friends now. He was entreating anyone, friend or foe, to see the light and stop this madness. Certainly someone listening would realize the insanity of this plot and come forward. The camerlegno knelt at the altar. â€Å"Pray with me.† The College of Cardinals dropped to their knees to join him in prayer. Outside in St. Peter’s Square and around the globe†¦ a stunned world knelt with them. 95 The Hassassin lay his unconscious trophy in the rear of the van and took a moment to admire her sprawled body. She was not as beautiful as the women he bought, and yet she had an animal strength that excited him. Her body was radiant, dewy with perspiration. She smelled of musk. As the Hassasin stood there savoring his prize, he ignored the throb in his arm. The bruise from the falling sarcophagus, although painful, was insignificant†¦ well worth the compensation that lay before him. He took consolation in knowing the American who had done this to him was probably dead by now. Gazing down at his incapacitated prisoner, the Hassassin visualized what lay ahead. He ran a palm up beneath her shirt. Her breasts felt perfect beneath her bra. Yes, he smiled. You are more than worthy. Fighting the urge to take her right there, he closed the door and drove off into the night. There was no need to alert the press about this killing†¦ the flames would do that for him. At CERN, Sylvie sat stunned by the camerlegno’s address. Never before had she felt so proud to be a Catholic and so ashamed to work at CERN. As she left the recreational wing, the mood in every single viewing room was dazed and somber. When she got back to Kohler’s office, all seven phone lines were ringing. Media inquiries were never routed to Kohler’s office, so the incoming calls could only be one thing. Geld. Money calls. Antimatter technology already had some takers. Inside the Vatican, Gunther Glick was walking on air as he followed the camerlegno from the Sistine Chapel. Glick and Macri had just made the live transmission of the decade. And what a transmission it had been. The camerlegno had been spellbinding. Now out in the hallway, the camerlegno turned to Glick and Macri. â€Å"I have asked the Swiss Guard to assemble photos for you – photos of the branded cardinals as well as one of His late Holiness. I must warn you, these are not pleasant pictures. Ghastly burns. Blackened tongues. But I would like you to broadcast them to the world.† Glick decided it must be perpetual Christmas inside Vatican City. He wants me to broadcast an exclusive photo of the dead Pope? â€Å"Are you sure?† Glick asked, trying to keep the excitement from his voice. The camerlegno nodded. â€Å"The Swiss Guard will also provide you a live video feed of the antimatter canister as it counts down.† Glick stared. Christmas. Christmas. Christmas! â€Å"The Illuminati are about to find out,† the camerlegno declared, â€Å"that they have grossly overplayed their hand.† 96 Like a recurring theme in some demonic symphony, the suffocating darkness had returned. No light. No air. No exit. Langdon lay trapped beneath the overturned sarcophagus and felt his mind careening dangerously close to the brink. Trying to drive his thoughts in any direction other than the crushing space around him, Langdon urged his mind toward some logical process†¦ mathematics, music, anything. But there was no room for calming thoughts. I can’t move! I can’t breathe! The pinched sleeve of his jacket had thankfully come free when the casket fell, leaving Langdon now with two mobile arms. Even so, as he pressed upward on the ceiling of his tiny cell, he found it immovable. Oddly, he wished his sleeve were still caught. At least it might create a crack for some air. As Langdon pushed against the roof above, his sleeve fell back to reveal the faint glow of an old friend. Mickey. The greenish cartoon face seemed mocking now. Langdon probed the blackness for any other sign of light, but the casket rim was flush against the floor. Goddamn Italian perfectionists, he cursed, now imperiled by the same artistic excellence he taught his students to revere†¦ impeccable edges, faultless parallels, and of course, use only of the most seamless and resilient Carrara marble. Precision can be suffocating. â€Å"Lift the damn thing,† he said aloud, pressing harder through the tangle of bones. The box shifted slightly. Setting his jaw, he heaved again. The box felt like a boulder, but this time it raised a quarter of an inch. A fleeting glimmer of light surrounded him, and then the casket thudded back down. Langdon lay panting in the dark. He tried to use his legs to lift as he had before, but now that the sarcophagus had fallen flat, there was no room even to straighten his knees. As the claustrophobic panic closed in, Langdon was overcome by images of the sarcophagus shrinking around him. Squeezed by delirium, he fought the illusion with every logical shred of intellect he had. â€Å"Sarcophagus,† he stated aloud, with as much academic sterility as he could muster. But even erudition seemed to be his enemy today. Sarcophagus is from the Greek â€Å"sarx† meaning â€Å"flesh,† and â€Å"phagein† meaning â€Å"to eat.† I’m trapped in a box literally designed to â€Å"eat flesh.† Images of flesh eaten from bone only served as a grim reminder that Langdon lay covered in human remains. The notion brought nausea and chills. But it also brought an idea. Fumbling blindly around the coffin, Langdon found a shard of bone. A rib maybe? He didn’t care. All he wanted was a wedge. If he could lift the box, even a crack, and slide the bone fragment beneath the rim, then maybe enough air could†¦ Reaching across his body and wedging the tapered end of the bone into the crack between the floor and the coffin, Langdon reached up with his other hand and heaved skyward. The box did not move. Not even slightly. He tried again. For a moment, it seemed to tremble slightly, but that was all. With the fetid stench and lack of oxygen choking the strength from his body, Langdon realized he only had time for one more effort. He also knew he would need both arms. Regrouping, he placed the tapered edge of the bone against the crack, and shifting his body, he wedged the bone against his shoulder, pinning it in place. Careful not to dislodge it, he raised both hands above him. As the stifling confine began to smother him, he felt a welling of intensified panic. It was the second time today he had been trapped with no air. Hollering aloud, Langdon thrust upward in one explosive motion. The casket jostled off the floor for an instant. But long enough. The bone shard he had braced against his shoulder slipped outward into the widening crack. When the casket fell again, the bone shattered. But this time Langdon could see the casket was propped up. A tiny slit of light showed beneath the rim. Exhausted, Langdon collapsed. Hoping the strangling sensation in his throat would pass, he waited. But it only worsened as the seconds passed. Whatever air was coming through the slit seemed imperceptible. Langdon wondered if it would be enough to keep him alive. And if so, for how long? If he passed out, who would know he was even in there? With arms like lead, Langdon raised his watch again: 10:12 P.M. Fighting trembling fingers, he fumbled with the watch and made his final play. He twisted one of the tiny dials and pressed a button. As consciousness faded, and the walls squeezed closer, Langdon felt the old fears sweep over him. He tried to imagine, as he had so many times, that he was in an open field. The image he conjured, however, was no help. The nightmare that had haunted him since his youth came crashing back†¦ The flowers here are like paintings, the child thought, laughing as he ran across the meadow. He wished his parents had come along. But his parents were busy pitching camp. â€Å"Don’t explore too far,† his mother had said. He had pretended not to hear as he bounded off into the woods. Now, traversing this glorious field, the boy came across a pile of fieldstones. He figured it must be the foundation of an old homestead. He would not go near it. He knew better. Besides, his eyes had been drawn to something else – a brilliant lady’s slipper – the rarest and most beautiful flower in New Hampshire. He had only ever seen them in books. Excited, the boy moved toward the flower. He knelt down. The ground beneath him felt mulchy and hollow. He realized his flower had found an extra-fertile spot. It was growing from a patch of rotting wood. Thrilled by the thought of taking home his prize, the boy reached out†¦ fingers extending toward the stem. He never reached it. With a sickening crack, the earth gave way. In the three seconds of dizzying terror as he fell, the boy knew he would die. Plummeting downward, he braced for the bone-crushing collision. When it came, there was no pain. Only softness. And cold. He hit the deep liquid face first, plunging into a narrow blackness. Spinning disoriented somersaults, he groped the sheer walls thatenclosed him on all sides. Somehow, as if by instinct, he sputtered to the surface. Light. Faint. Above him. Miles above him, it seemed. His arms clawed at the water, searching the walls of the hollow for something to grab onto. Only smooth stone. He had fallen through an abandoned well covering. He screamed for help, but his cries reverberated in the tight shaft. He called out again and again. Above him, the tattered hole grew dim. Night fell. Time seemed to contort in the darkness. Numbness set in as he treaded water in the depths of the chasm, calling, crying out. He was tormented by visions of the walls collapsing in, burying him alive. His arms ached with fatigue. A few times he thought he heard voices. He shouted out, but his own voice was muted†¦ like a dream. As the night wore on, the shaft deepened. The walls inched quietly inward. The boy pressed out against the enclosure, pushing it away. Exhausted, he wanted to give up. And yet he felt the water buoy him, cooling his burning fears until he was numb. When the rescue team arrived, they found the boy barely conscious. He had been treading water for five hours. Two days later, the Boston Globe ran a front-page story called â€Å"The Little Swimmer That Could.† 97 The Hassassin smiled as he pulled his van into the mammoth stone structure overlooking the Tiber River. He carried his prize up and up†¦ spiraling higher in the stone tunnel, grateful his load was slender. He arrived at the door. The Church of Illumination, he gloated. The ancient Illuminati meeting room. Who would have imagined it to be here? Inside, he lay her on a plush divan. Then he expertly bound her arms behind her back and tied her feet. He knew that what he longed for would have to wait until his final task was finished. Water. Still, he thought, he had a moment for indulgence. Kneeling beside her, he ran his hand along her thigh. It was smooth. Higher. His dark fingers snaked beneath the cuff of her shorts. Higher. He stopped. Patience, he told himself, feeling aroused. There is work to be done. He walked for a moment out onto the chamber’s high stone balcony. The evening breeze slowly cooled his ardor. Far below the Tiber raged. He raised his eyes to the dome of St. Peter’s, three quarters of a mile away, naked under the glare of hundreds of press lights. â€Å"Your final hour,† he said aloud, picturing the thousands of Muslims slaughtered during the Crusades. â€Å"At midnight you will meet your God.† Behind him, the woman stirred. The Hassassin turned. He considered letting her wake up. Seeing terror in a woman’s eyes was his ultimate aphrodisiac. He opted for prudence. It would be better if she remained unconscious while he was gone. Although she was tied and would never escape, the Hassassin did not want to return and find her exhausted from struggling. I want your strength preserved†¦ for me. Lifting her head slightly, he placed his palm beneath her neck and found the hollow directly beneath her skull. The crown/meridian pressure point was one he had used countless times. With crushing force, he drove his thumb into the soft cartilage and felt it depress. The woman slumped instantly. Twenty minutes, he thought. She would be a tantalizing end to a perfect day. After she had served him and died doing it, he would stand on the balcony and watch the midnight Vatican fireworks. Leaving his prize unconscious on the couch, the Hassassin went downstairs into a torchlit dungeon. The final task. He walked to the table and revered the sacred, metal forms that had been left there for him. Water. It was his last. Removing a torch from the wall as he had done three times already, he began heating the end. When the end of the object was white hot, he carried it to the cell. Inside, a single man stood in silence. Old and alone. â€Å"Cardinal Baggia,† the killer hissed. â€Å"Have you prayed yet?† The Italian’s eyes were fearless. â€Å"Only for your soul.†