The Secret of Secrets: A Novel (Robert Langdon Book 6) - 98
“How goes the inquisition?” Faukman asked when Alex Conan reappeared in his office. The tech’s mop of hair seemed messier, and for a moment Faukman wondered if the guy had actually aged since first appearing in his doorway last night. “I’m okay,” Alex said, clearly exhausted. “My boss knows this isn...
“How goes the inquisition?” Faukman asked when Alex Conan reappeared in his office. The tech’s mop of hair seemed messier, and for a moment Faukman wondered if the guy had actually aged since first appearing in his doorway last night.
“I’m okay,” Alex said, clearly exhausted. “My boss knows this isn’t my fault, but she wants to talk to you at some point. I told her you went home for the day.”
“Thanks.”
“Any word from Robert Langdon?”
“Thankfully, yes. He emailed. They’re both okay.”
Alex looked surprised. “He didn’t call ?”
Faukman shook his head. Not yet, at least.
“And the In-Q-Tel investment list? Any luck finding crossover with Dr. Solomon’s work?”
“No. The AI gave me garbage data. Definitely not a fan.”
“I may have something for you,” he said, opening the laptop he was carrying. “I realized that your AI search would have flagged overlap with anything online that was written by Dr. Solomon, but not necessarily anything spoken —like audio-video content—so I ran a modified cross-reference and learned that both In-Q-Tel and Dr. Solomon have a unique interest in the science of… fractals. ”
Faukman knew nothing about fractals other than that they often appeared as swirling designs consisting of infinitely repeating patterns.
“In the past three years,” Alex said, pulling out his phone, “Q has invested heavily in fractal technologies, while Katherine…” He launched a video and held up the screen for Faukman.
Katherine appeared, seated on a dais with several other speakers and the IONS logo behind them. “You ask an interesting question,” Katherine said, addressing someone in the audience. “Coincidentally, in the book I’m working on about human consciousness, I’ve written extensively about fractals.”
Faukman’s ears perked up.
“As you know,” she continued, “fractals possess an astonishing attribute: each individual section, when magnified, turns out to be an exact smaller version of the whole—an endless telescoping repetition of self-similarity. In other words, each individual point contains everything else. There is no individual…only the whole. A growing number of physicists now believe our universe is arranged like a fractal, which would suggest each person in this room contains every other person, and there is no separation between us. We are one consciousness. It’s hard to picture, I admit, but if you look up images of the Koch snowflake or the Menger sponge, or better yet, just read The Holographic Universe —”
“That’s the gist of it,” Alex said, stopping the video.
Faukman was uncertain. “Alex, I strongly doubt the CIA’s interest in fractals has anything to do with the interconnectedness of the universe and humanity.”
“I agree, but fractals play a critical role in encryption schemes, network topologies, data visualization, and all kinds of other national security technologies. Katherine said she wrote extensively about fractals in her book, so I’m thinking maybe she discovered something that compromised one of Q’s investments. It’s worth a look.”
“Fair point,” Faukman agreed. “I’ll dive in. I appreciate it.”
“Let me know if you find anything. Gotta run.”
The tech hurried back to his interrogation, and Faukman returned to his computer.
Outside, the rain fell harder.