The Lost Symbol Chapter 16-18

CHAPTER 16 earnest chief Trent Anderson stormed back toward the Capitol Rotunda, fuming at the failure of his security team. One of his men had serious rig a sling and an army-surplus jacket in an alcove near the eastern hemisphere portico.The goddamn guy walked right bug stunned of hereAnderson had already as homeed teams to start scanning exterior video, save by the eon they found each sylphlikeg, this guy would be long g unity.Now, as Anderson entered the Rotunda to survey the damage, he saw that the situation had been contained as sound as could be expected. All quadruple entrances to the Rotunda were closed with as inconspicuous a method of lot pull strings as Security had at its disposala velvet swag, an apolo growic guard, and a sign that read THIS ROOM TEMPORARILY CLOSED FOR CLEANING. The dozen or so witnesses were solely told being herded into a group on the eastern perimeter of the room, where the guards were collecting cellular teleph sensation ph one(a)s and cameras the last thing Anderson needed was for one of these people to send a cell- forebode snapshot to CNN.One of the detained witnesses, a tall, dark- hairclothed man in a tweed sport coat, was trying to break away from the group to peach to the chief. The man was currently in a heated discussion with the guards.Ill speak to him in a moment, Anderson called over to the guards. For instantaneously, please hold everyone in the main lobby until we sort this out.Anderson turned his eyes direct to the evanesce, which stood at attention in the fondness of the room. For the be intimate of God. In fifteen years on security detail for the Capitol Building, he had seen or so unconnected things. unless nothing manage this. Forensics had rectify fascinate here fast and get this thing out of my building.Anderson moved closer, seeing that the bloody wrist had been skewered on a spiked wooden base to coerce the hand stand up. Wood and flesh, he thought. Invisible to metal detect ors. The except metal was a hulking gold ring, which Anderson assumed had either been wanded or casually pulled off the dead finger by the untrusting as if it were his profess.Anderson crouched experience to examine the hand. It looked as if it had belonged to a man of about sixty. The ring bore some kind of ornate seal with a twain-headed bird and the number 33. Anderson didnt recognize it. What rightfully caught his eye were the slender tattoos on the tips of the thumb and index finger.A goddamn freak show. headway? One of the guards hurried over, retention out a phone. Personal call for you. Security switchboard good patched it done.Anderson looked at him homogeneous he was insane. Im in the middle of something here, he growled.The guards face was pale. He covered the mouthpiece and whispered. Its CIA.Anderson did a ternary take. CIA heard about this already?Its their Office of Security.Anderson stiffened. Holy shit. He glanced uneasily at the phone in the guards ha nd.In Washingtons vast ocean of intelligence agencies, the CIAs Office of Security was something of a Bermuda Trianglea sibylline and treacherous region from which all who knew of it steered clear whenever possible. With a seemingly self-destructive mandate, the OS had been created by the CIA for one strange purposeto spy on the CIA itself. care a powerful internal- affairs office, the OS monitored all CIA employees for illicit behavior misappropriation of funds, selling of darks, stealing classified technologies, and accustom of illegal torture tactics, to pattern a few.They spy on Americas spies.With investigative carte blanche in all matters of national security, the OS had a long and potent reach. Anderson could not fathom why they would be interested in this incident at the Capitol, or how they had found out so fast. Then again, the OS was ru mored to soak up eyes everywhere. For all Anderson knew, they had a direct feed of U.S. Capitol security cameras. This incident did not match OS directives in any way, although the measure of the call seemed too coincidental to Anderson to be about anything separate than this severed hand.Chief?The guard was holding the phone out to him like a hot potato. You need to take this call right flat. Its . . . He pa utilise and silently mouthed two syllables. SA-TO. Anderson squinted hard at the man. Youve got to be kidding. He felt his palms put down to sweat. Sato is handling this personally?The overlord of the Office of Security film music director Inoue Satowas a legend in the intelligence community. Born inside(a) the fences of a Japanese internment camp in Manzanar, California, in the aftermath of Pearl Harbor, Sato was a sturdy survivor who had never forgotten the horrors of war, or the perils of insufficient military intelligence. Now, having risen to one of the most incommunicative and potent posts in U.S. intelligence work, Sato had proven an uncompromising patriot as well as a terrifying enemy to a ny who stood in opposition. Seldom seen tho universally feared, the OS director cruised the sibylline waters of the CIA like a leviathan who surfaced only to devour its prey.Anderson had met Sato face-to-face only at a time, and the memory of looking into those frigidness black eyes was enough to make him count his blessings that he would be having this conversation by telephone.Anderson took the phone and brought it to his lips. film director Sato, he state in as friendly a representative as possible. This is Chief Anderson. How may IThere is a man in your building to whom I need to speak immediately. The OS directors voice was unmistakablelike gravel grating on a chalkboard. Throat crabmeat surgery had left Sato with a profoundly unnerving intonation and a repulsive neck gull to match. I take you to find him for me immediately.Thats all? You requirement me to page someone? Anderson felt abruptly anticipative that maybe the timing of this call was pure coincidence. Who are you looking for?His name is Robert Langdon. I believe he is inside your building right now.Langdon? The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Anderson couldnt quite place it. He was now wondering if Sato knew about the hand. Im in the Rotunda at the moment, Anderson utter, but weve got some tourists here . . . hold on. He displace his phone and called out to the group, Folks, is there anyone here by the name of Langdon? after(prenominal) a short silence, a deep voice replied from the crowd of tourists. Yes. Im Robert Langdon.Sato humps all. Anderson craned his neck, trying to see who had spoken up.The same man who had been trying to get to him earlier stepped away from the others. He looked distraught . . . but familiar somehow.Anderson raised the phone to his lips. Yes, Mr. Langdon is here.Put him on, Sato said coarsely. Anderson exhaled. Better him than me. Hold on. He waved Langdon over. As Langdon approached, Anderson suddenly realized why the name sounded familiar. I just r ead an article about this guy. What the hell is he doing here?Despite Langdons six-foot frame and athletic build, Anderson saw none of the cold, hardened edge he expected from a man famous for surviving an enlargement at the Vatican and a manhunt in Paris. This guy eluded the French police . . . in loafers? He looked more like someone Anderson would expect to find hearthside in some Ivy League library reading Dostoyevsky.Mr. Langdon?Anderson said, walking halfway to meet him. Im Chief Anderson. I handle security here. You have a phone call.For me? Langdons beamering eyes looked anxious and uncertain.Anderson held out the phone. Its the CIAs Office of Security.Ive never heard of it.Anderson smiled ominously. Well, sir, its heard of you.Langdon put the phone to his ear. Yes?Robert Langdon? Director Satos harsh voice blared in the lilliputian speaker, loud enough that Anderson could hear.Yes? Langdon replied.Anderson stepped closer to hear what Sato was saying.This is Director Ino ue Sato, Mr. Langdon. I am handling a crisis at the moment, and I believe you have information that can tending me.Langdon looked hopeful. Is this about Peter Solomon? Do you fuck where he is?Peter Solomon? Anderson felt inherently out of the loop.Professor, Sato replied. I am asking the questions at the moment.Peter Solomon is in very serious trouble, Langdon exclaimed. Some madman justExcuse me, Sato said, cutting him off.Anderson cringed. Bad move. Interrupting a top CIA officials line of questioning was a mistake only a civilian would make. I thought Langdon was supposed to be smart. Listen detailedly, Sato said. As we speak, this nation is veneer a crisis. I have been advised that you have information that can help me avert it. Now, I am going to ask you again. What information do you possess?Langdon looked lost. Director, I have no base what youre talking about. All Im concerned with is finding Peter andNo idea? Sato c dormenged.Anderson saw Langdon bristle. The professor now took a more aggressive tone. No, sir. No damned idea at all. Anderson winced. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Robert Langdon had just made a very costly mistake in dealing with Director Sato.Incredibly, Anderson now realized it was too of late. To his astonishment, Director Sato had just appeared on the far side of the Rotunda, and was approaching fast behind Langdon. Sato is in the building Anderson held his breathing time and braced for concern. Langdon has no idea.The directors dark form drew closer, phone held to ear, black eyes locked like two lasers on Langdons back.Langdon clutched the police chiefs phone and felt a rising frustration as the OS director pressed him. Im sorry, sir, Langdon said tersely, but I cant read your mind. What do you want from me?What do I want from you? The OS directors grating voice crackled through Langdons phone, scraping and hollow, like that of a dying man with streptococcal throat.As the man spoke, Langdon felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and his eyes were draw mint . . . directly into the face of a lilliputian Japanese charwoman. She had a fierce expression, a colorise complexion, thinning hair, tobacco-stained teeth, and an unsettling white scar that sliced horizontally across her neck. The womans gnarled hand held a cell phone to her ear, and when her lips moved, Langdon heard the familiar raspy voice through his cell phone.What do I want from you, Professor? She calmly closed her phone and glared at him. For starters, you can stop calling me sir. Langdon stared, mortified. Maam, I . . . apologize. Our connexion was poor andOur connection was fine, Professor, she said. And I have an extremely low tolerance for bullshit.CHAPTER 17Director Inoue Sato was a fearsome specimena bristly tempest of a woman who stood a mere four feet ten inches. She was bone thin, with jagged features and a dermatological condition known as vitiligo, which gave her complexion the colourise look of coarse granite blotched with lichen. Her rumpled blue pantsuit hung on her emaciated frame like a loose sack, the open- necked blouse doing nothing to hide the scar across her neck. It had been noted by her coworkers that Satos only acquiescence to physical vanity appeared to be that of plucking her substantial mustache.For over a decade, Inoue Sato had overseen the CIAs Office of Security. She possessed an off- the-chart IQ and chillingly unblemi range instincts, a combination which girded her with a self- confidence that made her terrifying to anyone who could not perform the impossible. Not tear down a terminal diagnosis of aggressive throat cancer had knocked her from her perch. The battle had cost her one month of work, half her voice box, and a third of her body weight, but she returned to the office as if nothing had happened. Inoue Sato appeared to be indestructible.Robert Langdon suspected he was likely not the first to mistake Sato for a man on the phone, but the director was still glaring at him with si mmering black eyes.Again, my apologies, maam, Langdon said. Im still trying to get my bearings herethe person who claims to have Peter Solomon tricked me into coming to D.C. this evening. He pulled the fax from his jacket. This is what he sent me earlier. I wrote down the tail number of the plane he sent, so maybe if you call the FAA and track theSatos tiny hand shot out and snatched the sheet of paper. She stuck it in her pocket without even opening it. Professor, I am run this investigation, and until you start telling me what I want to know, I suggest you not speak unless spoken to.Sato now spun to the police chief.Chief Anderson, she said, stepping entirely too close and staring up at him through tiny black eyes, would you care to tell me what the hell is going on here? The guard at the east gate told me you found a homo hand on the floor. Is that true?Anderson stepped to the side and revealed the object in the center of the floor. Yes, maam, only a few minutes ago.She glance d at the hand as if it were nothing more than a misplaced piece of clothing. And yet you didnt mention it to me when I called?I . . . I thought you knew.Do not lie to me.Anderson wilted under her gaze, but his voice remained confident. Maam, this situation is under control.I really doubt that, Sato said, with equal confidence.A forensics team is on the way. Whoever did this may have left fingerprints.Sato looked skeptical. I gestate someone clever enough to walk through your security checkpoint with a human hand is probably clever enough not to leave fingerprints.That may be true, but I have a responsibility to investigate.Actually, I am relieving you of your responsibility as of this moment. Im taking over.Anderson stiffened. This is not exactly OS domain, is it?Absolutely. This is an neckback of national security.Peters hand? Langdon wondered, watching their exchange in a daze. National security? Langdon was sensing that his own urgent goal of finding Peter was not Satos. The O S director seemed to be on other page entirely.Anderson looked puzzled as well. National security? With all due respect, maamThe last I checked, she interrupted, I outrank you. I suggest you do exactly as I say, and that you do it without question.Anderson nodded and swallowed hard. But shouldnt we at least print the fingers to confirm the hand belongs to Peter Solomon?Ill confirm it, Langdon said, feeling a slimy certainty. I recognize his ring . . . and his hand. He paused. The tattoos are new, though. Someone did that to him recently.Im sorry? Sato looked unnerved for the first time since arriving. The hand is tattooed?Langdon nodded. The thumb has a crown. And the index finger a star.Sato pulled out a pair of glaze and walked toward the hand, circling like a shark.Also, Langdon said, although you cant see the other three fingers, Im certain they will have tattoos on the fingertips as well.Sato looked intrigued by the comment and motioned to Anderson. Chief, can you look at th e other fingertips for us, please?Anderson crouched down beside the hand, being careful not to touch it. He put his cheek near the floor and looked up under the clutch fingertips. Hes right, maam. All of the fingertips have tattoos, although I cant quite see what the otherA sun, a lantern, and a mention, Langdon said flatly.Sato turned fully to Langdon now, her small eyes appraising him. And how exactly would you know that?Langdon stared back. The image of a human hand, marked in this way on the fingertips, is a very old icon. Its known as the quite a little of the Mysteries. Anderson stood up abruptly. This thing has a name?Langdon nodded. Its one of the most secretive icons of the quaint world.Sato cocked her head. Then ability I ask what the hell its doing in the middle of the U.S. Capitol?Langdon wished he would wake up from this nightmare. Traditionally, maam, it was used as an invitation.An invitation . . . to what? she demanded.Langdon looked down at the symbols on his f riends severed hand. For centuries, the Hand of the Mysteries served as a mystical summons. Basically, its an invitation to receive secret knowledgeprotected wisdom known only to an elite few.Sato folded her thin arms and stared up at him with jet-black eyes. Well, Professor, for someone who claims to have no clue why hes here . . . youre doing quite well so far.CHAPTER 18Katherine Solomon donned her white lab coat and began her usual arrival routineher rounds as her brother called them.Like a nervous parent checking on a sleeping baby, Katherine poked her head into the mechanical room. The hydrogen render cell was running smoothly, its backup tanks all safely nestled in their racks.Katherine continued down the hall to the info-storage room. As always, the two redundant holographic backup units hummed safely within their temperature-controlled vault. All of my re essay, she thought, gazing in through the three-inch-thick shatterproof glass. Holographic data-storage devices, unlike their refrigerator-size ancestors, looked more like sleek stereo components, each perched atop a columnar pedestal.Both of her labs holographic drives were synchronized and monovularserving as redundant backups to safeguard identical copies of her work. Most backup protocols advocated a indorsementary backup system off-site in case of earthquake, fire, or theft, but Katherine and her brother agreed that secrecy was paramount once this data left the building to an off-site server, they could no longer be certain it would stay private.Content that everything was running smoothly here, she headed back down the hallway. As she rounded the corner, however, she spotted something unexpected across the lab. What in the world? A muted glow was glinting off all the equipment. She hurried in to have a look, surprised to see devolve emanating from behind the Plexiglas wall of the control room.Hes here. Katherine flew across the lab, arriving at the control-room door and heaving it open. Pet er she said, running in. The plump woman seated at the control rooms terminal jumped up. Oh my God Katherine You scared meTrish Dunnethe only other person on earth allowed back herewas Katherines metasystems analyst and seldom worked weekends. The twenty-six-year-old redhead was a esthesis data modeler and had signed a nondisclosure document worthy of the KGB. Tonight, she was apparently analyzing data on the control rooms plasma walla huge flat-screen display that looked like something out of NASA mission control.Sorry, Trish said. I didnt know you were here yet. I was trying to finish up before you and your brother arrived.Have you spoken to him? Hes late and hes not answering his phone.Trish shook her head. I bet hes still trying to figure out how to use that new iPhone you gave him.Katherine appreciated Trishs good humor, and Trishs presence here had just given her an idea. Actually, Im glad youre in tonight. You qualification be able to help me with something, if you dont min d?Whatever it is, Im sure it beats football.Katherine took a deep breath, appeasement her mind. Im not sure how to explain this, but earlier today, I heard an unusual story . . .Trish Dunne didnt know what story Katherine Solomon had heard, but clearly it had her on edge. Her bosss usually calm gray eyes looked anxious, and she had tucked her hair behind her ears three times since entering the rooma nervous tell, as Trish called it. Brilliant scientist. stinky poker player. To me, Katherine said, this story sounds like fiction . . . an old legend. And yet . . . She paused, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ears once again.And yet?Katherine sighed. And yet I was told today by a trusted source that the legend is true. approve . . . Where is she going with this?Im going to talk to my brother about it, but it occurs to me that maybe you can help me shed some light on it before I do. Id love to know if this legend has ever been corroborated anywhere else in history.In all of history?Ka therine nodded. Anywhere in the world, in any language, at any point in history.Strange request, Trish thought, but certainly feasible. Ten years ago, the task would have been impossible. Today, however, with the Internet, the land Wide Web, and the ongoing digitization of the great libraries and museums in the world, Katherines goal could be achieved by using a relatively simple count engine equipped with an army of translation modules and some well-chosen keywords.No problem, Trish said. Many of the labs research books contained passages in ancient languages, and so Trish was often asked to write specialized Optical grapheme Recognition translation modules to generate English text from obscure languages. She had to be the only metasystems specia bring up on earth who had built OCR translation modules in Old Frisian, Maek, and Akkadian.The modules would help, but the trick to building an effective search spider was all in choosing the right key words. Unique but not overly restr ictive.Katherine looked to be a step ahead of Trish and was already jotting down possible keywords on a swerve of paper. Katherine had written down several when she paused, thought a moment, and indeed wrote several more. Okay, she finally said, handing Trish the slip of paper.Trish perused the list of search strings, and her eyes grew wide. What kind of crazy legend is Katherine investigating? You want me to search for all of these key phrases? One of the words Trish didnt even recognize. Is that even English? Do you really think well find all of these in one place? Verbatim?Id like to try.Trish would have said impossible, but the I-word was banned here. Katherine considered it a dangerous mind-set in a subject area that often transformed preconceived falsehoods into confirmed truths. Trish Dunne hard doubted this key-phrase search would fall into that category.How long for results? Katherine asked.A few minutes to write the spider and launch it. After that, maybe fifteen for t he spider to exhaust itself.So fast? Katherine looked encouraged.Trish nodded. Traditional search engines often necessitate a full day to crawl across the entire online universe, find new documents, digest their content, and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder it to their searchable database. But this was not the kind of search spider Trish would write.Ill write a program called a delegator, Trish explained. Its not entirely kosher, but its fast. Essentially, its a program that orders other peoples search engines to do our work. Most databases have a search function built inlibraries, museums, universities, governments. So I write a spider that finds their search engines, inputs your keywords, and asks them to search. This way, we harness the power of thougrits of engines, working in unison.Katherine looked impressed. Parallel processing.A kind of metasystem. Ill call you if I get anything.I appreciate it,Trish. Katherine patted her on the back and headed for the door. Ill be in the library.Trish settled in to write the program. steganography a search spider was a menial task far below her skill level, but Trish Dunne didnt care. She would do anything for Katherine Solomon. Sometimes Trish still couldnt believe the good fortune that had brought her here.Youve come a long way, baby. barely over a year ago, Trish had quit her job as a metasystems analyst in one of the high-tech industrys legion(predicate) cubicle farms. In her off-hours, she did some freelance programming and started an industry blog prox Applications in Computational Metasystem Analysisalthough she doubted anyone read it. Then one evening her phone rang.Trish Dunne? a womans voice asked politely.Yes, whos calling, please?My name is Katherine Solomon.Trish almost fainted on the spot. Katherine Solomon? I just read your book rational cognition Modern Gateway to Ancient Wisdomand I wrote about it on my blog Yes, I know, the woman replied graciously. Thats why Im calling.Of course it is, Trish realized, feeling dumb. Even brilliant scientists Google themselves.Your blog intrigues me, Katherine told her. I wasnt aware metasystems modeling had come so far.Yes, maam, Trish managed, starstruck. Data models are an exploding technology with far- reaching applications.For several minutes, the two women chatted about Trishs work in metasystems, discussing her experience analyzing, modeling, and predicting the flow of massive data fields.Obviously, your book is way over my head, Trish said, but I understood enough to see an intersection with my metasystems work.Your blog said you believe metasystems modeling can transform the content of Noetics?Absolutely. I believe metasystems could turn Noetics into real science.Real science? Katherines tone hardened slightly. As unconnected to . . . ?Oh shit, that came out wrong. Um, what I implicatet is that Noetics is more . . . esoteric.Katherine laughed. Relax, Im kidding. I get that all the time.Im not surprised, Trish thought. E ven the Institute of Noetic Sciences in California described the field in arcane and abstruse language, defining it as the acquire of mankinds direct and immediate access to knowledge beyond what is available to our normal senses and the power of reason.The word noetic, Trish had learned, derived from the ancient Greek noustranslating roughly to inner knowledge or intuitive consciousness.Im interested in your metasystems work, Katherine said, and how it expertness relate to a project Im working on. Any chance youd be willing to meet? Id love to pick your brain.Katherine Solomon wants to pick my brain? It felt like Maria Sharapova had called for tennis tips.The next day a white Volvo pulled into Trishs driveway and an attractive, willowy woman in blue jeans got out. Trish immediately felt two feet tall. Great, she groaned. Smart, rich, and thinand Im supposed to believe God is good? But Katherines unassuming air set Trish instantly at ease.The two of them settled in on Trishs huge back porch overlooking an impressive piece of property.Your mansion is amazing, Katherine said.Thanks. I got lucky in college and licensed some parcel Id written.Metasystems stuff?A precursor to metasystems. spare-time activity 9/11, the government was intercepting and crunching enormous data fieldscivilian e-mail, cell phone, fax, text, Web sitessniffing for keywords associated with terrorist communications. So I wrote a piece of software that let them process their data field in a second way . . . pulling from it an additional intelligence product. She smiled. Essentially, my software let them take Americas temperature.Im sorry?Trish laughed. Yeah, sounds crazy, I know. What I mean is that it quantified the nations mad state. It offered a kind of cosmic consciousness barometer, if you will. Trish explained how, using a data field of the nations communications, one could assess the nations mood based on the occurrence density of certain keywords and emotional indicators in the data field. Happier times had happier language, and stressful times vice versa. In the event, for example, of a terrorist attack, the government could use data fields to measure the shift in Americas psyche and better advise the president on the emotional impact of the event.Fascinating, Katherine said, stroking her chin. So essentially youre examining a population of individuals . . . as if it were a single organism.Exactly. A metasystem. A single entity defined by the sum of its parts. The human body, for example, consists of millions of individual cells, each with divergent attributes and different purposes, but it functions as a single entity.Katherine nodded enthusiastically. Like a flock of birds or a school of fish moving as one. We call it convergence or entanglement.Trish sensed her famous guest was starting line to see the potential of metasystem programming in her own field of Noetics. My software, Trish explained, was designed to help government agencies better evalua te and respond appropriately to wide-scale crisespandemic diseases, national tragedies, terrorism, that sort of thing. She paused. Of course, theres always the potential that it could be used in other directions . . . perhaps to take a snapshot of the national mind-set and predict the endpoint of a national election or the direction the stock market will move at the opening bell.Sounds powerful.Trish motioned to her big house. The government thought so. Katherines gray eyes focused in on her now. Trish, exponent I ask about the ethical dilemma posed by your work?What do you mean?I mean you created a piece of software that can easily be abused. Those who possess it have access to powerful information not available to everyone. You didnt feel any hesitation creating it?Trish didnt blink. Absolutely not. My software is no different than say . . . a flight simulator program. Some users will practice flying first-aid missions into develop countries. Some users will practice flying pas senger jets into skyscrapers. Knowledge is a tool, and like all tools, its impact is in the hands of the user.Katherine sat back, looking impressed. So let me ask you a hypothetical question.Trish suddenly sensed their conversation had just turned into a job interview.Katherine reached down and picked up a tiny speck of sand off the deck, holding it up for Trish to see. It occurs to me, she said, that your metasystems work essentially lets you calculate the weight of an entire sandy beach . . . by weighing one grain at a time.Yes, basically thats right.As you know, this little grain of sand has mass. A very small mass, but mass nonetheless.Trish nodded.And because this grain of sand has mass, it therefore exerts gravity. Again, too small to feel, but there.Right.Now, Katherine said, if we take trillions of these sand grains and let them attract one other to form . . . say, the moon, then their combined gravity is enough to move entire oceans and drag the tides back and onwards acr oss our planet.Trish had no idea where this was headed, but she liked what she was hearing.So lets take a hypothetical, Katherine said, discarding the sand grain. What if I told you that a thought . . . any tiny idea that forms in your mind . . . actually has mass? What if I told you that a thought is an actual thing, a measurable entity, with a measurable mass? A little mass, of course, but mass nonetheless. What are the implications?Hypothetically speaking? Well, the obvious implications are . . . if a thought has mass, then a thought exerts gravity and can pull things toward it. Katherine smiled. Youre good. Now take it a step further. What happens if many people start focusing on the same thought? All the occurrences of that same thought begin to merge into one, and the cumulative mass of this thought begins to grow. And therefore, its gravity grows.Okay.Meaning . . . if enough people begin cerebration the same thing, then the gravitational force of that thought becomes tangib le . . . and it exerts actual force. Katherine winked. And it can have a measurable effect in our physical world.