The Lost Symbol Chapter 102-106

Part 102 Robert Langdon had regularly heard it said that a creature, when cornered, was fit for wonderful accomplishments of solidarity. In any case, when he tossed his full power into the underside of his container, nothing moved by any means. Around him, the fluid kept rising consistently. Without any than six creeps of breathing room left, Langdon had lifted his head into the pocket of air that remained. He was currently eye to eye with the Plexiglas window, his eyes just inches from the underside of the stone pyramid whose perplexing etching floated above him. I have no clue what this implies. Disguised for longer than a century underneath a solidified blend of wax and stone residue, the Masonic Pyramid's last engraving was currently uncovered. The etching was a flawlessly square network of images from each convention imaginableâ€alchemical, visionary, heraldic, heavenly, supernatural, numeric, sigilic, Greek, Latin. As a totality, this was emblematic anarchyâ€a bowl of letter set soup whose letters originated from many various dialects, societies, and timespans. Absolute turmoil. Symbologist Robert Langdon, in his most out of control scholarly translations, couldn't comprehend how this lattice of images could be deciphered to mean anything by any stretch of the imagination. Request from this mayhem? Outlandish. The fluid was currently crawling over his Adam's apple, and Langdon could feel his degree of dread ascending alongside it. He kept striking into the tank. The pyramid gazed back at him tauntingly. In hysterical franticness, Langdon concentrated all of his psychological vitality on the chessboard of images. What might they be able to perhaps mean? Tragically, the variety appeared to be divergent to such an extent that he was unable to try and envision where to start. They're not even from similar periods ever! Outside the tank, her voice stifled however discernible, Katherine could be heard mournfully asking for Langdon's discharge. Regardless of his inability to see an answer, the possibility of death appeared to inspire each cell in his body to discover one. He felt a bizarre lucidity of psyche, not at all like anything he had ever experienced. Think! He filtered the lattice seriously, scanning for some clueâ€a design, a concealed word, a unique symbol, anything at allâ€but he saw just a matrix of irrelevant images. Disarray. As time passes, Langdon had started to feel a ghostly deadness surpassing his body. Maybe his very tissue were getting ready to shield his psyche from the agony of death. The water was presently taking steps to immerse his ears, and he lifted his head as far as could be expected under the circumstances, pushing it against the highest point of the box. Terrifying pictures started blazing before his eyes. A kid in New England stepping water at the base of a dim well. A man in Rome caught underneath a skeleton in a toppled final resting place. Katherine's yells were developing increasingly hysterical. From all Langdon could hear, she was attempting to prevail upon a madmanâ€insisting that Langdon couldn't be relied upon to unravel the pyramid without going to visit the Almas Temple. â€Å"That fabricating clearly holds the missing piece to this riddle! By what means would robert be able to disentangle the pyramid without all the information?!† Langdon valued her endeavors, but then he felt sure that â€Å"Eight Franklin Square† was not highlighting the Almas Temple. The course of events is all off-base! As per legend, the Masonic Pyramid was made in the mid-1800s, decades before the Shriners even existed. Indeed, Langdon acknowledged, it was most likely before the square was even called Franklin Square. The capstone couldn't in any way, shape or form have been highlighting an unbuilt working at a nonexistent location. Whatever â€Å"Eight Franklin Square† was highlighting . . . it needed to exist in 1850. Lamentably, Langdon was drawing a complete clear. He examined his memory banks for whatever might fit the course of events. Eight Franklin Square? Something that was in presence in 1850? Langdon thought of nothing. The fluid was streaming into his ears now. Battling his fear, he gazed up at the matrix of images on the glass. I don't comprehend the association! In a froze furor, his psyche started regurgitating all the remote it could produce. Eight Franklin Square . . . squares . . . this framework of images is a square . . . the square and the compass are Masonic images . . . Masonic special stepped areas are square . . . squares have ninety-degree edges. The water continued rising, yet Langdon shut it out. Eight Franklin . . . eight . . . this framework is eight-by-eight . . . Franklin has eight letters . . . â€Å"The Order† has eight letters . . . 8 is the turned image for endlessness . . . eight is the quantity of annihilation in numerology . . . Langdon had no clue. Outside the tank, Katherine was all the while arguing, yet Langdon's hearing was currently irregular as the water was sloshing around his head. † . . . incomprehensible without knowing . . . capstone's message unmistakably . . . the mystery stows away withinâ€â€Å" At that point she was no more. Water immersed Langdon's ears, obliterating the remainder of Katherine's voice. An unexpected womblike quiet inundated him, and Langdon acknowledged he really was going to kick the bucket. The mystery covers up within†Katherine's last words resounded through the quiet of his tomb. The mystery covers up inside . . . Oddly, Langdon acknowledged he had heard these definite words commonly previously. The mystery stows away . . . inside. Indeed, even now, it appeared, the Ancient Mysteries were insulting him. â€Å"The mystery covers up within† was the center principle of the secrets, encouraging humanity to look for God not in the sky above . . . yet rather inside himself. The mystery covers up inside. It was the message of all the incredible mysterious instructors. The realm of God is inside you, said Jesus Christ. Know thyself, said Pythagoras. Know ye not that ye are divine beings, said Hermes Trismegistus. The rundown continued endlessly . . . All the supernatural lessons of the ages had endeavored to pass on this one thought. The mystery stows away inside. All things being equal, humankind kept seeking the sky for the substance of God. This acknowledgment, for Langdon, presently turned into an extreme incongruity. At the present time, with his eyes confronting the sky like all the visually impaired men who went before him, Robert Langdon out of nowhere observed the light. It hit him like a jolt from above. The mystery covers up inside The Order Eight Franklin Square Instantly he comprehended. The message on the capstone was out of nowhere completely clear. Its importance had been gazing him in the face throughout the night. The content on the capstone, similar to the Masonic Pyramid itself, was a symbolonâ€a code in piecesâ€a message written in parts. The capstone's importance was disguised in so straightforward a way that Langdon could hardly accept he and Katherine had not spotted it. Additional amazing still, Langdon now understood that the message on the capstone did in fact uncover precisely how to disentangle the network of images on the base of the pyramid. It was so basic. Precisely as Peter Solomon had guaranteed, the brilliant capstone was an intense charm with the ability to bring request from disarray. Langdon started beating on the top and yelling, â€Å"I know! I know!† Above him, the stone pyramid lifted off and drifted away. In its place, the inked face returned, its chilling look gazing down through the little window. â€Å"I tackled it!† Langdon yelled. â€Å"Let me out!† At the point when the inked man spoke, Langdon's lowered ears heard nothing. His eyes, in any case, saw the lips talk two words. â€Å"Tell me.† â€Å"I will!† Langdon shouted, the water nearly to his eyes. â€Å"Let me out! I'll clarify everything!† It's so straightforward. The man's lips moved once more. â€Å"Tell me now . . . or on the other hand die.† With the water ascending through the last inch of air space, Langdon tipped his head back to keep his mouth over the waterline. As he did as such, warm fluid immersed his eyes, obscuring his vision. Curving his back, he squeezed his mouth against the Plexiglas window. At that point, with his most recent couple of seconds of air, Robert Langdon shared the mystery of how to translate the Masonic Pyramid. As he wrapped up, the fluid rose around his lips. Naturally, Langdon drew a last breath and cinched his mouth shut. After a second, the liquid secured him completely, arriving at the highest point of his tomb and spreading out over the Plexiglas. He did it, Mal'akh figured it out. Langdon made sense of how to unravel the pyramid. The appropriate response was so basic. So self-evident. Underneath the window, the lowered essence of Robert Langdon gazed up at him with frantic and imploring eyes. Mal'akh shook his head at him and gradually mouthed the words: â€Å"Thank you, Professor. Appreciate the afterlife.† Part 103 As a genuine swimmer, Robert Langdon had regularly considered what it might feel want to suffocate. He currently realized he would learn firsthand. In spite of the fact that he could hold his breath longer than a great many people, he could as of now feel his body responding to the nonappearance of air. Carbon dioxide was gathering in his blood, carrying with it the instinctual inclination to breathe in. Try not to relax! The reflex to breathe in was expanding in power as time passes. Langdon knew very soon he would arrive at what was known as the breath-hold breakpointâ€that crucial point in time at which an individual could no longer deliberately hold his breath. Open the top! Langdon's nature was to pound and battle, however he knew not to squander important oxygen. Everything he could do was gaze up through the haze of water above him and expectation. The world outside was currently just a murky fix of light over the Plexiglas window. His center muscles had started consuming, and he realized hypoxia was setting in. Out of nowhere an excellent and spooky face showed up, looking down at him. It was Katherine, her delicate highlights looking practically ethereal through the shroud of fluid. Their eyes met through the Plexiglas window, and for a moment, Langdon thought he was spared. Katherine! At that point he heard her quieted cries of frightfulness and acknowledged she was being held there by their captor. The inked beast was compelling her to tolerate mind