Social-Emotional Development In A Child Of 4Yrs Old Essays - Film

Social-Emotional Development In A Child Of 4Yrs Old Chapter 2- Social - Emotional Development The potential possibilities of any child are the most intriguing and stimulating in all creation. ~Ray L. Wilbur~ The typical four year old has a very good sense of humor. They love being silly and love to tell jokes that make others laugh. While observing Michael and the class having breakfast in the cafeteria, Michael and two of his friends were telling jokes. Boy 1: Knock! Knock! Michael: Who's there? Boy 1: Knock! Knock! Boy 2: He said who's there? Boy 1: Pizza. Michael: Pizza? Boy 1: Yeah I said pizza. Michael: Pizza who? Boy 1: Hmmm (pauses for a moment) I forgot. Boy 1, Boy 2, and Michael begin to laugh hysterically at one another. They are laughing so hard that other children around them begin to laugh as well. There are many different meanings for the term social development, but the one thing that is for sure is that it is a long and ongoing process This process begins in early childhood with self discovery and results in the ability to interact with others. During the social - emotional development of a four year old child, they are still continuing to learn about themselves. Their sense of identity includes knowledge that they are a boy or girl (gender) and a member of a particular family, racial, religious or ethnic group (Mitchell and David, 1992). However, their sense of self is unstable. Preschooler's are aware of how people feel about them. They want to please adults in their lives and look for approval and praise. Preschooler's are also developing new social skills. Friendships often have a momentary quality, although some friendships may be quite stable, especially if children have known each other for a long time (Pica, 1997). Play and social development go hand and hand. Play offers many opportunities to be with other children and to share, take turns, disagree, and compromise (Mitchell and Davis, 1992). Children enjoy each others company. While at play, they are increasing their self awareness, and are becoming more involved in cooperative play. Emotionally, children develop greater self awareness, characteristics, and actions. They are also able to predict the emotions of others. According to Huffnung (1997) children will develop empathy or the ability to appreciate the feeling of others and understand their point of view. If one child begins an activity, it is likely that his friends will want to follow along. Michael was sitting at the table in the cafeteria eating breakfast and he kept dropping his napkin on the floor because he knew that the college student would pick it up for him. Two other boys that were sitting with him saw what was going on and they started to drop their napkin on the floor also. This continued for a few moments until the college student yelled at the boys. She then began to ignore their behavior and eventually they stopped. Michael likes to play in a group with his friends. Michael, another boy and a college student were playing in the block area. They had a handful of different bugs and the college student suggested that they build a house for the bugs to live in. Michael and the boy went to get long blocks to start building the house. Michael: We need long blocks to build the house. Boy: Ok I will get them. Michael: Hey look! This can be a sliding door. Boy: We need to take the bugs out. Michael: Go over there and get those long ones so we can put them on top. A girl runs over from the snack table and sits down next to Michael. She grabs a bug and pretends to make it hop from one level to the next. Michael: Hey! What are you doing? Stop that we're not done here! Boy: Yeah you cant do that. We need to build a house for the bugs to live in. Girl: Can I build with you? Michael: No! Girls can't build houses for bugs. No! College Student: Just because she is a girl Michael doesn't mean she can't play with you and help you make a house. Girl: Well he's not my friend anymore. Michael and his friend continue to build the house and do not pay attention to what the college student had said. The girl however did not get upset and she started building a house in a different area. Where she was building her house, Michael had an idea to build a road for the bugs to hop across. The road that they built connected the two houses together so that everyone could play. When

Divorces are made in Heaven Essays

Divorces are made in Heaven Essays Divorces are made in Heaven Paper Divorces are made in Heaven Paper Algernon also says a comment about divorce: Divorces are made in Heaven. This is an inversion of the normal phrase Marriages are made in Heaven. Divorce would have being a topic up for much debate at the time not only because of the issue of money but also that women were basically subservient to men, which meant that women would have had limited rights. However, this is not an issue in the play as womens role in society in The Importance of Being Earnest is portrayed as quite the opposite; all the women have more money than the male characters and seem to get the upper-hand over men. For example, Lady Bracknell sends her husband to dine alone in the bedroom if Lady Bracknells table is out at her dinner parties. Algernon also believes that marriage cant consist of just two people, as it would be tedious for a man to do so. He says that in marriage three is company and two is none. It was not uncommon in the contemporary society for men to have a wife and a mistress. Wilde may be hinting at this fact or he may possibly be using irony to have a private joke about his own Bunburying. He was known to be living a double life with his wife and his lover Lord Alfred Douglas. It could be that he was directing this joke to a few members of the audience at the time, who knew what he meant. In the play, there is irony that both Jack and Algernon only have their Bunburys while they are single men. Lady Bracknells views on marriage are key to the basis of the play. Lady Bracknell believes that it is entirely the parents decision on who marries their daughter: An engagement should come on a young girl as a surprise, pleasant or unpleasant as the case may be. It is hardly a matter that she could be allowed to arrange for herself. This quotation is funny as it has an element of truth but is going beyond the normal customs. It is true that the parents would have had a lot of influence of the husband of their daughters but the girl would have an idea of who he would be. It was more a matter of agreement than completely arranging the whole thing with the girl being oblivious to it all. Gwendolens reasons for wanting to marry Jack are quite absurd. She illustrates that she loves Jack mainly because she thinks his name is Ernest. She says that the only safe name is Ernest. She is being ridiculous in thinking that the fact that a newborn babys character would be determined by the name he had been given. Whilst her mother is basing her decision on Jacks money, status and birthright; Gwendolen is basing her marriage on a name. Even though the later seems the more absurd, Wilde may also be demonstrating that permitting marriage on the grounds of birthright is just as ridiculous as it is true that one cannot help what one is named or into which family one is born.

Definition of the Hastert Rule

Definition of the Hastert Rule The Hastert Rule is an informal policy in House Republican leadership designed to limit the debate on bills that dont have support from a majority of its conference. When Republicans hold a majority in the 435-member House, they use the Hastert Rule to forbid any legislation that doesnt have support from a majority of the majority from coming up for a vote. What does that mean? It means if Republicans control the House and piece of legislation must have the support of most members of the GOP to see a vote on the floor. The Hastert Rule is much less rigid that the 80-percent rule held by the ultraconservative House Freedom Caucus. The Hastert Rule is named for former  Speaker of the House Dennis Hastert, a Republican from Illinois who served as the chambers longest-serving  speaker, from 1998 until his resignation in 2007. Hastert believed the role of a speaker was, in his words, not to expedite legislation that runs counter to the wishes of the majority of his majority. Previous Republican speakers of the House followed the same guiding principle, including former U.S. Rep. Newt Gingrich. Criticism of the Hastert Rule Critics of the Hastert Rule say its too rigid and limits debate on important national issues while issues favored by Republicans get attention. In other words, it puts the interests of a political party over the interests of people. Critics also blame the Hastert Rule for spiking House action on any legislation passed in a bipartisan fashion in the U.S. Senate. The Hastert Rule was blamed, for example,  for holding up House votes on the farm bill and immigration reform in 2013. Hastert himself attempted to distance himself from the rule during the government shutdown of 2013, when Republican House Speaker John Boehner refused to allow a vote on a measure funding federal government operations under the belief that a conservative bloc of the GOP conference was opposed to it. Hastert told The Daily Beast that the so-called Hastert Rule wasnt really set in stone. â€Å"Generally speaking, I needed to have a majority of my majority, at least half of my conference. This wasn’t a rule  Ã¢â‚¬ ¦ The Hastert Rule is kind of a misnomer.† He added of Republicans under his leadership:  Ã¢â‚¬Å"If we had to work with Democrats, we did.† And in 2019, amid the longest government shutdown in history, a congressman referred to the policy as the stupidest rule ever created - named after somebody who is in prison that has allowed a minority of tyrants in the Congress. (Hastert served 13 months in prison after pleading guilty to violating federal banking laws. He admitted breaking the law to pay hush money to a teenage boy he had sexually molested in the 1960s and 1970s when he was a wrestling coach.) Nonetheless, Hastert is on the record saying the following during his tenure as speaker: On occasion, a particular issue might excite a majority made up mostly of the minority. Campaign finance is a particularly good example of this phenomenon. The job of speaker is not to expedite legislation that runs counter to the wishes of the majority of his majority. Norman Ornstein of the American Enterprise Institute has called the Hastert Rule detrimental in that it puts party ahead of the House as a whole, and therefore the will of the people. As House speakers, he said in 2004,  You are the party leader, but you are ratified by the whole House. You are a constitutional officer. Support for the Hastert Rule Conservative advocacy groups including the Conservative Action Project have argued that the Hastert Rule should be made written policy by the House Republican Conference so the party can remain in good standing with the people who elected them to office. Not only will this rule prevent bad policy being passed against the wishes of the Republican majority, it will strengthen the hand of our leadership in negotiations – knowing that legislation cannot pass the House without significant Republican support, wrote  former Attorney General Edwin Meese and a group of like-minded, prominent conservatives. Such concerns, however, are merely partisan and the Hastert Rule remains an unwritten principle guiding Republican House speakers. Adherence to the Hastert Rule A New York Times analysis of adherence to the Hastert Rule found all Republican House speakers had violated it at one point or another. Boehner had allowed House bills to come up for a vote even though they didnt have support from a majority of the majority. Also in violation of the Hastert Rule at least a dozen times over his career as speaker: Dennis Hastert himself.

General and Unitised Cargoes Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1500 words

General and Unitised Cargoes - Essay Example In the other hand a good cargo service coupled with cost effective methods would redound to better business performance. Better cargo handling and stowage can only be achieved with good planning and better execution of plans. To be most successful in designing a cost effective cargo and stowage plan requires basic information crucial in the performance of cargo ships. These include data as to the ships capacity and the storage area's physical parameters. The ships capacity covers both volume and the weight of the total cargo which is an initial input to better planning. Another is the cargo itself. The cargo type including its physical conditions, forms, and other parameters are an important factor in determining storage location and handling methods. The ports of origin and destinations must also be evaluated. The data on ports conditions including availability of basic or sophisticated facilities for cargo handling and regulatory policies must be properly considered. Finally, the ships cargo history from port to port must also be analyzed for better planning. The cargo manager must take into conside ration what cargoes comes in and comes out in the ship from port to port including the types and volumes of these cargoes. Wilson and Roach (2000) clearly considers suitable placement of containers in a container-ship on a multi-port journey as a requirement to facilitate optimum ease in loading and unloading at subsequent ports. The Cargo Placement and Stowage Plan The aforementioned data combined together will be a very important tool in deciding what handling methods must be employed, where to place the cargoes, who must be involved, and how the stowing must be executed. Cargo placement In placing cargoes, the basic principle of what must come out first at destination port must comes in last at ports of origin must be considered. A carefully evaluated cargo listing will provide better cargo placement plan. Cargoes that must be unloaded in the nearest port must be located in areas where they can be moved without obstructions. Cargoes intended for last port of destination must be placed in more secure locations where they cannot obstruct loading and unloading at intermediary ports. Cargoes must also be placed according to physical and chemical compositions to avoid dangers of contaminations due to spillage and other accidents. Cargo managers today are more fortunate than earlier years due to availability of computerized systems of cargo placement planning. Simulation programs that generate good sub-optimal solutions to the stowage pre-planning problem are now available. The process is an analysis of the domain allowing the problem to be divided into a generalized placement strategy and a specialized placement procedure. The system refines the arrangement of containers within the cargo-space of a container ship until each container is specifically allocated to a stowage location. Better cargo placements is determined before it is really executed thereby providing room for better adjustment in a cost effective way (Wilson, Roach, & Ware, 2001). Use of these

Dairy industry - canada's supply management system Essay

Dairy industry - canada's supply management system - Essay Example Petkantchin (2008) has mentioned that the â€Å"Canadian milk prices have been two to three times higher than world prices since 1986. This has no doubt contributed to a drop of nearly 15% in per capita milk consumption in Canada between 1986 and 2003† (Petkantchin). Canada is one of the biggest producers of dairy products. At the same time the prices of the dairy products are very high in Canada because of the quota system enforced by the government in the supply management of dairy products in Canada. The productivity gains are actually wasted because of the quota system. The creation of Canadian Dairy Commission in 1966 was greeted with immense pleasure by the dairy farmers; however their expectations went wrong since the government introduced the quota system to control the production of dairy products in Canada. The quota system controls the dairy products production in Canada even though Canada has huge potentials in developing the dairy sector. â€Å"One would argue that with the high capital that Canadian dairy farmers have to invest in quota, it makes it difficult for the next generation to farm. This is entirely correct† (Brander, p.12). The dairy farmers need to invest big amounts in order to keep the quota system in tact which is not a good sign for the future generation. Big expenditure or capital needed for dairy farming will force the next generation to look for other options. At the same time, the tight control over the supply management of dairy products resulted as a barrier to the entry of new players in the Canadian dairy market from external sources. It is quite possible that entrepreneurs from other countries may invest in Canada in the dairy sector because of globalization and liberalization policies adopted by Canada. But the tight control over the supply of dairy products in Canada prevents foreign investors from investing in the Canadian dairy sector. Supply management works well for conventional

Building models for integration in counseling Essay Example for Free

Building models for integration in counseling Essay As we begin this second week of Coun  506 we are going to concentrate on building models for integration in counseling. Our beginning point in this is to understand more specifically how our  worldview impacts the models that we use in counseling. The way we interpret behavior has a lot to do with our worldview, and a lot to do with our expectations of our clients. One of the first steps in applying worldview questions to counseling is that we have to begin to think in terms of the bigger questions that are involved, starting off with: â€Å"Who am I? Those who approach the question of human nature from a theological perspective think of people as created in the image of God. The focus of those who are theologically-trained and oriented is the belief in people being a free creation imbued with a free will, but also as fallen beings created for a purpose. This is true even when we see a person in a counseling situation and it is clear by the problems they are having or created for themselves that they are far from achieving the purpose for which they were created. It does not remove the fact that this is a person with a purpose for which they are created. From a psychological standpoint the question †Who Am I? † raises the issue of rationality; the idea of humans as essentially â€Å"a self,† not a creation but a rational self. Some theories of psychology stresses that when people begin their lives, they begin as â€Å"blank slates† where from the moment they are born, their experiences, their environment, and their relationships begin to fill the â€Å"pages† of their mind and lives. So there is a sense in psychology that people are akin to â€Å"self-creating social organisms† that interact with people and systems around them. From the perspective of Christian spirituality, identity questions are phrased in terms of the spirit, in terms of the God-breathed life. Recall the image in Genesis where God forms Adam from the ground and breathed life into him. That is an image specific to Christian Spirituality: the notion of human beings as children of God and temples of the Holy Spirit. Next we look at the worldview question: â€Å"Where am I? † referring to the world in which we live. From a theological perspective the world is considered to be a good creation by God: â€Å"In the beginning God created the eavens and the earth and God saw that it was good†; that phrase is repeated many times in that first chapter of the book of Genesis. When God created human beings he saw that it was very good. So it is a good world created by God that while still under His sovereignty, He has charged us to have dominion over the world. From the perspective of psychologists, the question is addressed in terms of two environments: one being the internal environment of the person, or their individual heredity; and the second being the external: the physical, social, and relational environment in which they live. For Spirituality, the world is described as a â€Å"community,† while for us who are believers in Christ, our fundamental identifying terms of our environment is as members of the â€Å"Body of Christ. † It also emphasizes that the world in which we live and see is not one realm, but that we exist in a two-realm world: the physical world and the spiritual world. Rarely does anyone come to counseling simply for the fun of it, or because they have nothing else to do. Anytime you see a client, it is because they are having a problem. Theologians looking from the â€Å"What’s wrong with the world? perspective, refers to problems in the terms of sin and rebellion to God’s law. Jay Addams emphasize this in â€Å"nouthetic counseling†: that anytime a person comes to you with a problem, the problem is sin. This problem of sin shows up not only in that individual’s rebellion to God’s law, but also in terms of the larger work of Satan and the p resence of evil in their life. Psychologists on the other hand emphasize that when a person is having problems, the fundamental issue is pointing toward some type of disorder, or their failure to cope in adequate ways, or they are living in a dysfunctional environment. In spirituality, when there is a problem in life, the problem is broken relationships and alienation from God, self, and others. The problem is also phrased in cosmic terms: that in fact part of the problem in life is really the result of spiritual warfare or the result of quenching God’s guiding and comforting Holy Spirit. So where does that lead us in seeking solutions to our problems? In terms of theology, the way to deal with problems are solutions that only come from God. The grace of God is freely given to us, with the correct human response being repentance. Repentance leads to redemption in Christ, and then we can embark on the life-long process of becoming sanctified, or more like Christ. From a psychological perspective, the solution to problems is known as â€Å"self-actualization,† or the notion that we are self-controlled persons who need to unleash â€Å"the self† within us. Then we can understand and conquer our problems and recover through psychological interventions. Spirituality speaks of the solution to human problems in terms of communion with Christ, and reconciliation with others coming through abiding in the Spirit and through the power of prayer. Next we need to look at a change that has taken place over time from what is known as a â€Å"modern† worldview to a â€Å"post-modern† worldview. Here you see a simple typology comparing the two. This sort of typology is very important in counseling, especially concerning the various generations of our clients. Those who were born in the first part of the 20th century are much more likely to have a dominant â€Å"modern† view. Those born in the latter part of the 20th, or are just coming into adulthood now in the 21st century, typically lean toward the â€Å"post-modern† viewpoint. For those who come from the â€Å"modern† worldview, their focus is on the rational. If they can figure it out and think it through, THEN they have the direction to live. They seek to discover the â€Å"truth,† and from that truth they THEN know how to live and make decisions. The priority is on the individual, learning to be responsible for yourself and your own, not looking to others for help. Modern people believe that there is objective truth, and that we can be objective in our search for that truth. Modernists tend to think that there is a correct way to live, and that there is the possibility of living a moral life. On the other side, â€Å"post-modernists† feel that life is much more experiential. The real source in life is their experiences, not thoughts or reasonings. For example, my experiences are not the same as your experiences so my experiences are THE authoritative source for ME. Because of their emphasis on experience, they seek to understand life from their experiences and then to discern truth FROM those experiences. In other words their experiences become the means for understanding truth. More and more they place an emphasis on community rather than individuality, which can be seen as a positive shift in the sense that seeking counsel from another person is acceptable instead of embarrassing. Also, post-modern people see life in subjective terms, in that there are many ways to live, all of equal value, and that it is arrogant to speak in terms of there being only one way to live. Now please keep in mind that what was just presented to you is a simple typology, a way of conceptualizing the shifts in thinking so if you see things a little differently from this, it is okay. It is simply a quick way to help you process the shifting of worldviews that is occurring in our lifetime. Be aware that there are five keys to a Christian integrated worldview that you will be hearing about throughout this course. To study a bit deeper on this, refer back to Entwistle’s book. The first as has been mentioned before that â€Å"all truth is God’s truth†; this is key to a Christian worldview. The second is the notion that â€Å"human abilities are gifts from God†: meaning we are not completely independent beings but are creations of God, so our abilities are gifts from our Creator and given to us for a purpose. A third key is the belief that â€Å"human life is a unified whole,† where clients are to be approached holistically and as part of a family and community. The fourth key focuses on the â€Å"reality of sin,† meaning human sin IS a limiting factor in all of our pursuits. This fifth and final key is â€Å"humans and our behavior can be understood to a great degree through rational means,† meaning through empirical observation, through scientific methods, and through the revelation we receive from God. Unfortunately, the way in which we interpret those facts is going to be limited and flawed because of our fallenness.

Psilocybin and Body Changes :: Chemistry Chemical Drugs Papers

Psilocybin and Body Changes Physiological (Whole Body) Changes Psilocybin, the active psychotomimetic, hallucinogenic chemical found in the psilocybe genus of mushrooms, is absorbed through the mouth and stomach and is a monoamine-related substance (Levitt 1975, Grilly, 1998). This means that psilocybin's biochemical effects are mediated by changes in the activity of serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine in the central nervous system (made up of the brain and the spinal cord) primarily by way of 5HT2a receptors (Grilly 1998, Hasler 2003). Monoamine-related drugs share a basic similarity in molecular structure with monoamine neurotransmitters serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. Psilocybin produces bodily changes which are mostly sympathomimetic. This means that psilocybin mimics the effects of stimulating postganglionic adrenergic sympathetic nerves (online medical). The effects of this sympathetic nervous system arousal may consist of pupillary dilation, increases in blood pressure and heart rate, exaggeration of deep tendon reflexes, tremor, nausea, piloerection (hair erection), and increased body temperature (Grilly 1998). Psilocybin creates distinct psychological (hallucinogenic, entheogenic) changes in humans. Because of the mind-altering properties of the drug, much research on psilocybin is devoted to understanding its physiological effects on brain chemistry. A recent study tested prefrontal activation during a cognitive challenge and the neurometabolic effects of four different drugs on 113 regions of interest of the brain (Gouzoulis 1999). The four substances tested were psilocybin, d-methamphetamine (METH), methylenedioxyethylamphetamine (MDE), and a placebo in healthy volunteers. No significant differences of global cerebral metabolism were found in the four groups. Neurometabolic effects were found to include a significant increase of regional glucose activity in the right anterior cingulate of the brain, the right frontal operculum, and an increase in activity of the right inferior temporal region. A significant decrease in metabolism was found in the right thalamus, the left precentral region and a decrease in activity was found in the left thalamus. Overall there was a general hypermetabolism of the prefrontal region of the right hemisphere and hypometabolism in subcortical regions. During the cognitive challenge activation of the middle prefrontal cortex was eliminated and activation of Broca's area (right frontal operculum) was reduced. In a study conducted by A.M. Quetin, electrolyte levels, liver toxicity tests and blood sugar levels were shown to be

Cannon Bard Theory of Emotion

Cannon Bard Theory of Emotion As you are hiking through the woods, a bear walks out onto the path. In an instant you begin to tense up and sweat. In the same instant you are filled with fear. These two events of physiological responses and emotional experience happen at the same time, not one after the other. That is why the Cannon-Bard theory of emotion is a better indicator of how our bodies and minds respond to stimuli.Cannon and Bard highlighted the role of the brain in generating physiological responses and feelings; a role that is important in their explanation of emotion experience and production. The main assertions of the Cannon–Bard theory are that emotional expression results from the function of hypothalamic structures, and emotional feeling results from stimulations of the dorsal thalamus. The physiological changes and subjective feeling of an emotion in response to a stimulus are separate and independent; arousal does not have to occur before the emotion (Adcock, 1976).Cannon-Bard theory states that we feel emotions and experience physiological reactions such as sweating, trembling and muscle tension simultaneously. More specifically, it is suggested that emotions result when the thalamus sends a message to the brain in response to a stimulus, resulting in a physiological reaction(Hayes, 2003). For example: I see a snake –> I am afraid –> I begin to tremble. According to the Cannon-Bard theory of emotion, we react to a stimulus and experience the associated emotion at the same time (Carlson, 2013).The key component of the Cannon–Bard theory of emotion is that when the thalamic discharge occurs, the bodily changes occur almost simultaneously with the emotional experience. The bodily changes and emotional experience occur separately and independently of one another; physiological arousal does not have to precede emotional expression or experience. The theory asserts that the thalamic region is the brain area responsible f or emotional responses to experienced stimuli (Adcock, 1976). Walter Cannon criticized the James-Lange theory for several reasons.He argued that emotion occurs even if the bodily changes which transmit feedback to the brain are eliminated (Hayes, 2003). He severed neural connections to the cortex of cats (creating â€Å"decorticate cats†). The decorticate cats, when provoked, exhibited the emotional behavior normally associated with rage and aggression, as demonstrated by erect hair, growling, and the baring of teeth (Hayes, 2003). (Canon called the behavior sham rage because according to the James-Lange theory emotional behavior could not occur without connections to the brain. In addition, Cannon argued that visceral responses occur too slowly to be recognized by the brain before emotional responses to a stimuli occur (Adcock, 1976). Works Cited Adcock, C. (1976). Psychology and Theory. Hong Kong: Victoria University Press. Neil R. Carlson, H. M. (2013). Psychology: The Sci ence of Experience. USA: Pearson Learning Solutions. Nick Hayes, P. S. (2003). Students Dictionary of Psychology. New York: Oxford University Press Inc.

Book summary of “Montana 1948” Essay

Race, social status and gender are three factors, in which society uses to judge people. Although many people do not agree with this aspect, our society embraces it by categorizing all people under theses three factors. Those who consider themselves to be better then others, attempt to belittle those whom they consider to be weaker. These people are often known, as the Fringe of society. Montana 1948 is an excellent example of this struggle between the weak and the strong. Montana 1948 is a very good example of what it was like to be part of the fringe of society. The author does an extraordinary job at depicting certain struggles of power between the characters in the book. The reason these struggles are so easy to pick up on is because the narrator describes the characters to full detail. This allows for a further enhancement of the book to which you can become more acquainted with the characters. There for you can predict the struggles between characters. One of the main struggles in this story is between the Fringes of society and those who have power. By power I mean those who are able to speak for themselves and defend themselves. Good examples of power, in the society of Montana 1948, are the white men. Those who would be considered a fringe would be the Native Americans, women, and children. It is obvious, in the story, that men had the power. The male characters in the book prove this; such as Wes, his father, and Frank. Each character has a certain overpowering attitude over the other. Wes being the character, which most frequently shows up in all the scenes, is able to take over the scene with his overpowering attitude. This is true because several occasions in the book demonstrate the wife’s reluctant ness to make decisions on her own there for always seeking Wes’s approval; † If my mother said it, it was so, yet my father’s confirmation was still necessary† page 43. This demonstrates the superiority that Wes had over the family, hence putting the wife on the fringe of the household. Frank on the other hand is more of an easy going character, but since he was a doctor and was his fathers favorite, he is given more liability and credit over Wes. â€Å"Frank was witty, charming, at smiling ease with his life and every thing in it. Along side his brother my father soon seemed somewhat prosaic. Oh, stolid, surely, and  steady and dependable. But inevitably, inescapably dull. Nothing glittered in my father’s wake the way it did in Uncle Frank’s†, page36. In this case Wes has always had to struggle with Frank over favoritism over their father. This favoritism is apparent when their father gets up in front of a large crowd to address his son Frank as a war hero, † Now I’d like to bring my son up here.† Page 37. The favoritism is also imminent in the way the father addressed the speech, † He simply said â€Å"my son.† And why wouldn’t the county sheriff be called on to make a small speech?† page37. The last character, which is considered to be the most powerful in the book, and a scene-stealer, is Grandpa. Obviously as the head of the family he has power over his sons, but his high social status and wealth also puts him above and beyond most people. This power to which he attains allows him to do most anything he pleases, without having any confrontations from the towns people. â€Å"He didn’t call for silence. That wasn’t his way. He simply stood there; his feet planted wide, his hands on his hips†page37. â€Å"He assumed that once people saw him, they would give him their attention. And they did† page37. This example clearly demonstrates the Grandpas superiority over all the people. These where the main characters, in the story, and they demonstrated what it was like to be above the Fringe. Being part of a fringe, means that you do not have much say around others. Native Americans are a common example of what a fringe is like. They isolate themselves from the town, because white people put down Native Americans due to their race. Native Americans are not the only people part of the Fringe. At times women may be considered that also. For they are not described by the narrator as much as men, hence showing favoritism of men over women by the author. It is true that Native Americans and women are not as socially high as men.

Morality of Zoos Essays

Morality of Zoos Essays Morality of Zoos Paper Morality of Zoos Paper Almost each and every one of us has grown up with fond childhood memories of visiting the local zoo amongst family and friends. After all, where else can one see animals from all over the world in one place? In the midst of all the fun and enjoyment we have all experienced from zoos, we have failed to take into account the life of the things that we are so excited about seeing there – the animals. Each and every day, the animals enclosed in zoos for human entertainment are exposed to abuse, cruelty, and most importantly stress due to an unnatural living environment, creating a collection of unhappy animals. In this essay, I will also explore other examples of zoos in which animals are used for paid human entertainment such as circuses and aqua parks, where creatures like dolphins are dumped into a small glass pool and forced to perform tricks for merely human satisfaction. This essay will also explore acceptable forms of animal zoos; ones that are used solely for the purpose of breeding and conserving highly endangered species. While it is true that zoos can sometimes be beneficial, and used to aid animals in conservation and breeding, the sad reality is that zoos confine wild animals into tiny, artificial habitats and expose them to great amounts of stress, cruelty and abuse for the purpose of profit and human entertainment. For this reason, modern zoos are immoral and should only be allowed to exist if they are large-scale conservation centers used to aid in the preservation of endangered species. Zoos have become a very hot topic of controversy in today’s world. It is common knowledge that zoos are not the natural habitats of animals. Animals around the world are held captive and kidnapped from their natural life for the duration of their lives solely for the purpose of our viewing pleasure. Zoos can be defined as â€Å"public parks, which display animals, primarily for the purposes of recreation or education,† (Jamieson, Dale). The first modern American zoos were created in Philadelphia and Cincinnati in the 1870s. Today in the United States, there are hundreds of zoos that are visited by millions of people every year. Jamieson, Dale). â€Å"Iron-barred concrete-floored cages† and animals behind bars (Millar, Royce, and Cameron Houston) is a typical sight at many popular zoos. They vary from â€Å"roadside menageries run by hucksters, to elaborate zoological parks staffed by trained scientists† (Jamieson, Dale). Other popular forms of zoos are aqua parks and circuses. Aqua parks such as the Sea World amusement park in F lorida (Singer, Peter) are home to many animals such as whales and dolphins, which are held in captivity and forced to perform tricks and shows for public entertainment. Animals in captivity are forced to abandon all their natural characteristics and instincts. â€Å"It is possible to visit zoos and see bored animals pacing back and forth in cages, with nothing to do but wait for the next meal† (Singer, Peter). Regular meal times means that they no longer have the need to hunt for survival. While this may sound like a good thing, there are a few things to take into account. The first is that the zoo animals, all of which are born natural hunters, will no longer be able to survive and fend for themselves if they are released back into the wild (Zoos: Imprisonment or Preservation). The second is the degree of confinement which zoo animals are forced to live under in their small cages and aquariums. To take this idea into perspective, imagine the world’s fastest animal, the cheetah. When it is crammed in a cage, which no matter how large can never compare to the vast size of the wilderness, the cheetah is unable to run at the fast speeds that make it unique. In the long run, confinement will cause the cheetah’s natural running skills to wear away (Zoos: Imprisonment or Preservation). The same principle can be applied to sea animals confined in aqua parks. No tank, no matter how large can come close to meeting the needs of animals who spend their lives in social groups swimming long distances in the ocean† (Singer, Peter). Taking animals out of their natural habitats, transporting them great distances and keeping them in alienated environments in which their liberty is restricted are examples of how animals taken from the wild and confined in zoos are deprived of many things like gathering their own food, developing their own social orders and behaving in ways natural to them (Jamieson, Dale). Studies have shown that the artificial environment of zoos can create intrinsic animal welfare problems such as self-mutilation, feeding disorders, stereotypical behavior like pacing, neck twisting and rocking, reproductive disorders and physiological disorders (Zoos: Imprisonment or Preservation). A lot of the time, it is typical for an animal to experience these without the public noticing. An example of an animal exhibiting this behavior was a polar bear in the Dublin zoo that howed signs of stress and boredom. Locked in a small cage, the polar bear had nothing to do all day but walk from one side of the enclosure to the other, also known as pacing. Eventually, the animal was moved to a much larger home in the Czech Republic (Zoos: Imprisonment or Preservation). This is evidence that while we may think pacing is a normal behaviour for animals in zoos, the truth is that we don’t know any better and what we think is customary is actually very stressful and harmful to the zoo animals. Contrary to popular belief that zoos are very friendly environments, many people don’t know that â€Å"since 1990, 42 people have been killed and 100 others injured by elephants worldwide† (Zoos: Imprisonment or Preservation). A recent article by philosopher Peter Singer in The Guardian provides a clear example of the stress animals are put through. An orca whale named Tilly; acting out of anger of being held captive in a sterile concrete tank at Florida’s SeaWorld grabbed a trainer, pulled her underwater and killed her. Tilly had also been previously involved in two other human deaths at SeaWorld. In addition, one of Tilly’s offspring, which was sold to an amusement park in Spain, also killed a trainer. There have also been many other instances of orcas involved in deaths (Singer, Peter). â€Å"We will never know exactly what was going on in Tilly’s mind, but we do know that he has been in captivity since he was about two years old – he was captured of the east coast of Iceland in 1983. Orcas are social mammals, and he would have been living with his mother and other relatives in a pod. It is reasonable to suppose that the sudden separation was traumatic for Tilly† (Singer, Peter). It has been argued that circuses, especially those on the road, are even worse places for animals. Their living conditions are said to be â€Å"deplorable† (Singer, Peter), particularly in travelling circuses where animal cages have to be extremely small in order to be able to go on the road. Furthermore, circuses have been known to be brutal because â€Å"training animals to perform tricks often involves starvation and cruelty. Undercover investigations have repeatedly shown animals being beaten and given electric shocks† (Singer, Peter). Countries such as Austria, Costa Rica, Denmark, Israel, India and Sweden have banned or severely restricted the use of wild animals in circuses (Singer, Peter). The conditions animals are exposed to in circus environments clearly lead to the intrinsic welfare problems described earlier. An example of this was seen in Brazil, where â€Å"a movement to ban wild animals from circuses stared after hungry lions managed to grab and devour a small boy† (Singer, Peter). The most common benefits of zoos are amusement, education, and the preservation of species. Amusement was certainly an important reason for the establishment of the early zoos, and it remains an important function of contemporary zoos as well† (Jamieson, Dale). The fact remains that most people visit zoos in order to be entertained. Unfortunately, zoos must provide amusement to the public in order to stay profitable. Even though entertaining the public is viewed as a very important function of zoos, it cannot be justified as a reason to keep wild animals imprisoned and held in captivity. The second reason for having zoos is education. The idea that education is a big part of having zoos is â€Å"part of the commercial entertainment industry† (Singer, Peter). â€Å"The most important lesson they teach impressionable young minds is that it is acceptable to keep animals in captivity for human amusement† (Singer, Peter). This is the exact opposite of the attitudes we should be embedding in the young minds of children. Of course some learning takes place in zoos. However, the very lessons being learned about the physical and mental states of animals being held captive are certainly not beneficial, and should not require animals to be held captive. Furthermore, similar educational experiences can be achieved through films and lectures. Documentaries such as The Life of Animals and The Blue Planet are known to be very educational and can in fact provide a better understanding of animals in their true, natural habitats. Observing animals in their natural surroundings will also allow for a better understanding of survival tactics, hunting, and the food chain, all of which are abandoned as soon as a wild animal is brought into a zoo. The final reason for having zoos is that they preserve soon-to-be extinct species, and put breeding programs in place to re-populate the species. There are several problems associated with zoo breeding programs. As previously mentioned, captive animals have very different traits than the ones of surviving animals in the wild. The lack of genetic diversity among the captive animals can create an enormous problem in breeding; more particularly it conflicts with Darwin’s theory of survival of the fittest. Perhaps the biggest problem with zoo breeding programs is that they created unwanted animals. In certain species, only a few males can service an entire herd of animals in reproduction. All the extra males are unnecessary to zoos and become a financial burden (Jamieson, Dale). â€Å"Some of these animals are sold and wind up in the hands of individuals and institutions which lack proper facilities† (Jamieson, Dale). Others end up shot and killed by hunters and poachers in private camps. â€Å"Ninety-five percent of animals that are kept in zoos aren’t endangered† (Zoos: Imprisonment or Preservation). With preservation of soon-to-be extinct species also comes the debate whether it really is better for animals to live in the artificial environments that we create for them, as opposed to becoming extinct. Is it really better to confine a few hapless Mountain Gorillas in a zoo than to permit the species to become extinct? † (Jamieson, Dale). The answer to this question may be obvious to many, however, in doing this, are we not using the animals as â€Å"vehicles for their genes†? (Jamieson, Dale). In preserving extinct species, we are e ssentially creating a new species that can only survive in artificial zoo habitats. Even if the above-mentioned problems were non-existent, the current system of zoos does not provide a suitable environment for the preservation of endangered species. The reason for this is that of the little breeding programs that zoos offer, they only breed animals that are not endangered. â€Å"Many of the major breeding programs are run in special facilities which have been established for that purpose. They are often located in remote places, far from the attention of zoo-goers† (Jamieson, Dale). For example, the Bronx Zoo operates its Rare Animal Survival Centre far away on St. Catherine’s Island off the coast of Georgia. In conclusion, taking animals out of the wild and placing them in captivity in zoos affects their welfare and causes the animals unnecessary stress and anger. This disruption of their natural lifestyle has caused many animals to fatally injure or kill humans in an attempt to release some of the anger caused by their confinement in small, artificial habitats. Even though it is true that zoos provide amusement and entertainment, education, even though animals are not in their natural environment and learning may be distorted, and small-scale preservation, the above-mentioned reasons for having a zoo do not outweigh the detrimental affects captivity has on a wild animal. Under no circumstance should the amusement and entertainment of humans be a eason to put animals through stress and deprive them of their natural skills and environment. Even though some may believe that soon are beneficial for education, they are overlooking the fact that animals held captive in zoos are not in their natural habitats; therefore they do not behave as they normally would in the wild, making learning biased. Finally, even though it is a controversial topic, I b elieve preservation should be the only reason to keep animals captive. However, this cannot be done in the zoos we have established today. Preservation of endangered species can only be done in large-scale off-shore reserves, which are far away from the public and allow the animals to roam more freely and practice their natural skills. Animal Cruelty Zoos. Vegan Peace. Web. 29 Oct. 2011. veganpeace. com/animal_cruelty/zoos. htm. BBC Ethics Animal Ethics: Animals for Entertainment. BBC. Web. 29 Oct. 2011. bbc. co. uk/ethics/animals/using/entertainment_1. shtml. Birth, Accident Of. Mortality as Morality. Microkhan by Brendan I. Koerner. 14 Aug. 2009. Web. 30 Oct. 2011. lt; microkhan. com/2009/08/14/mortality-as-morality/. Jamieson, Dale. Against Zoos. The Animal Rights Library. Web. 18 Nov. 2011. animal-rights-library. com/texts-m/jamieson01. htm. Kuehn, Bridget M. Is It Ethical to Keep Animals in Zoos? December 1, 2002. American Veterinary Medical Association. 1 Dec. 2002. Web. 29 Oct. 2011. avma. org/onlnews/javma/dec02/021201d. asp. Millar, Royce, and Cameron Houston. Animal Rights and Wrongs In Depth T heage. com. au. The Age Business, World Breaking News | Melbourne, Australia. The Age, 19 Jan. 008. Web. 30 Oct. 2011. theage. com. au/news/in-depth/animal-rights-and-wrongs/2008/01/18/1200620207184. html? page=fullpage. Singer, Peter. Let Wild Animals Be Wild | Peter Singer | Comment Is Free | Guardian. co. uk. Latest News, Sport and Comment from the Guardian | The Guardian. 8 Mar. 2010. Web. 18 Nov. 2011. guardian. co. uk/commentisfree/cif-green/2010/mar/08/wild-animals-captivity-seaworld-orca. Zoos: Imprisonment or Preservation? The Whyville Times. 4 July 2003. Web. 19 Nov. 2011. http://j. whyville. net/smmk/whytimes/article? id=2941.

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.†