The Lost Symbol Epilogue

Robert Langdon got up gradually. Countenances looked down at him. Where am I? After a second, he reviewed where he was. He sat up gradually underneath the Apotheosis. His back felt hardened from lying on the hard catwalk. Where's Katherine? Langdon checked his Mickey Mouse watch. It's nearly time. He pulled himself to his feet, peering circumspectly over the handrail into the vast space underneath. â€Å"Katherine?† he got out. The word reverberated back in the quietness of the abandoned Rotunda. Recovering his tweed coat from the floor, he got over it and set it back on. He checked his pockets. The iron key the Architect had given him was no more. Advancing back around the walkway, Langdon set out toward the opening the Architect had indicated them . . . steep metal steps rising into squeezed dimness. He started to climb. Ever more elevated he climbed. Bit by bit the flight of stairs turned out to be increasingly tight and progressively slanted. Still Langdon pushed on. Only somewhat more distant. The means had become nearly ladderlike now, the section startlingly tightened. At long last, the steps finished, and Langdon ventured up onto a little arrival. Before him was an overwhelming metal entryway. The iron key was in the lock, and the entryway hung somewhat partially open. He pushed, and the entryway squeaked open. The air past felt cold. As Langdon ventured over the edge into dim dimness, he understood he was currently outside. â€Å"I was simply coming to get you,† Katherine stated, grinning at him. â€Å"It's nearly time.† When Langdon perceived his environmental factors, he drew a frightened breath. He was remaining on a minor skywalk that surrounded the zenith of the U.S. State house Dome. Legitimately above him, the bronze Statue of Freedom looked out over the dozing capital city. She confronted the east, where the principal blood red sprinkles of first light had started to paint the skyline. Katherine guided Langdon around the overhang until they were confronting west, flawlessly lined up with the National Mall. Out there, the outline of the Washington Monument remained in the early-morning light. From this vantage point, the transcending pillar looked significantly more amazing than it had previously. â€Å"When it was built,† Katherine murmured, â€Å"it was the tallest structure on the whole planet.† Langdon envisioned the old sepia photos of stonemasons on framework, in excess of 500 feet noticeable all around, laying each square by hand, individually. We are developers, he thought. We are makers. Since the very beginning, man had detected there was something unique about himself . . . something else. He had yearned for powers he didn't have. He had longed for flying, of recuperating, and of changing his reality inside and out. What's more, he had done quite recently that. Today, the holy places to man's achievements embellished the National Mall. The Smithsonian exhibition halls prospered with our innovations, our specialty, our science, and the thoughts of our incredible scholars. They told the historical backdrop of man as creatorâ€from the stone devices in the Native American History Museum to the planes and rockets in the National Air and Space Museum. In the event that our precursors could see us today, without a doubt they would think us divine beings. As Langdon looked through the predawn fog at the rambling geometry of historical centers and landmarks before him, his eyes came back to the Washington Monument. He envisioned the solitary Bible in the covered foundation and thought of how the Word of God was actually the expression of man. He contemplated the incredible circumpunct, and how it had been implanted in the roundabout court underneath the landmark at the intersection of America. Langdon thought abruptly about the little stone box Peter had depended to him. The shape, he currently acknowledged, had unhinged and opened to frame the equivalent accurate geometrical formâ€a cross with a circumpunct at its inside. Langdon needed to giggle. Indeed, even that little box was indicating this junction. â€Å"Robert, look!† Katherine highlighted the highest point of the landmark. Langdon lifted his look however observed nothing. At that point, gazing all the more eagerly, he saw it. Over the Mall, a minor spot of brilliant daylight was glimmering off the most noteworthy hint of the transcending pillar. The sparkling pinpoint developed rapidly more brilliant, increasingly brilliant, shining on the capstone's aluminum top. Langdon watched in wonder as the light changed into a signal that drifted over the shadowed city. He envisioned the minor etching on the east-bound side of the aluminum tip and acknowledged shockingly that the main beam of daylight to hit the country's capital, each and every day, did as such by enlightening two words: Laus Deo. â€Å"Robert,† Katherine murmured. â€Å"Nobody ever gets the chance to come up here at dawn. This is the thing that Peter needed us to witness.† Langdon could feel his heartbeat stimulating as the gleam on the landmark increased. â€Å"He said he accepts this is the reason the progenitors manufactured the landmark so tall. I don't have a clue whether that is valid, yet I do realize thisâ€there's an old law declaring that nothing taller can be worked in our capital city. Ever.† The light crawled more distant down the capstone as the sun crawled into the great beyond behind them. As Langdon watched, he could nearly detect, surrounding him, the heavenly circles following their endless circles through the void of room. He thought of the Great Architect of the Universe and how Peter had said explicitly that the fortune he needed to show Langdon could be revealed distinctly by the Architect. Langdon had expected this implied Warren Bellamy. Wrong Architect. As the beams of daylight fortified, the brilliant shine inundated the sum of the thirty-300 pound capstone. The psyche of man . . . getting illumination. The light at that point started crawling down the landmark, initiating a similar plummet it played out each morning. Paradise pushing toward earth . . . God associating with man. This procedure, Langdon acknowledged, would turn around come evening. The sun would dunk in the west, and the light would climb again from earth back to paradise . . . getting ready for another day. Adjacent to him, Katherine shuddered and crawled nearer. Langdon put his arm around her. As both of them stood one next to the other peacefully, Langdon considered all he had adapted this evening. He thought of Katherine's conviction that everything was going to change. He thought of Peter's confidence that a period of illumination was approaching. Also, he thought of the expressions of an incredible prophet who had strikingly proclaimed: Nothing is concealed that won't be made known; nothing is mystery that won't become visible. As the sun rose over Washington, Langdon looked to the sky, where the remainder of the evening stars were becoming dim. He considered science, about confidence, about man. He contemplated how every culture, in each nation, in without fail, had constantly shared a certain something. We as a whole had the Creator. We utilized various names, various countenances, and various supplications, yet God was the general steady for man. God was the image we as a whole shared . . . the image of the considerable number of secrets of life that we were unable to comprehend. The people of yore had applauded God as an image of our boundless human potential, however that old image had been lost after some time. Up to this point. At that time, remaining on the Capitol, with the glow of the sun gushing down surrounding him, Robert Langdon felt a ground-breaking upwelling profound inside himself. It was a feeling he had never felt this significantly in all his years. Expectation.