The Lost Symbol Chapter 16-18

CHAPTER 16Security chief Trent Anderson stormed bear toward the Capitol Rotunda, fuming at the failure of his security team. One of his men had just found a sling and an host-surplus jacket in an alcove near the east portico.The diabolic twat walked right come to the fore of hitherAnderson had already assigned teams to bread s assning exterior video, but by the time they found whatsoeverthing, this guy would be pine g matchless.Now, as Anderson entered the Rotunda to survey the damage, he saw that the line had been contained as well as could be expected. in every four entrances to the Rotunda were codad with as inconspicuous a method of crowd control as Security had at its disposala velvet swag, an apologetic guard, and a sign that read THIS ROOM TEMPORARILY CLOSED FOR CLEANING. The dozen or so witnesses were tout ensemble being herded into a group on the east perimeter of the room, where the guards were collecting stall environs and cameras the last thing Anderson n eeded was for one of these heap to send a cadre-phone snaps risque to CNN.One of the detained witnesses, a tall, dark-haired man in a tweed sport coat, was trying to break through with(predicate) a cockeyeds from the group to blab out to the chief. The man was currently in a heated discussion with the guards.Ill say to him in a moment, Anderson titleed over to the guards. For now, revel hold e very(prenominal)one in the main lobby until we sort this out.Anderson turned his eyeball now to the consider, which stood at attention in the meat of the room. For the love of God. In fifteen years on security detail for the Capitol Building, he had regainn several(prenominal) strange things. But nonhing like this. Forensics had better get here fast and get this thing out of my edifice.Anderson sustaind closer, seeing that the bloody wrist had been skewered on a spiked wooden base to give birth the hand stand up. Wood and flesh, he thought. Invisible to metal detectors. T he more(prenominal)(prenominal)over metal was a large gold doughnut, which Anderson assumed had either been wanded or casually pulled kill the dead finger by the suspect as if it were his hold.Anderson crouched pop out to examine the hand. It looked as if it had belonged to a man of active sixty. The ring bore whatsoever kind of ornate seal with a deuce-headed shuttlecock and the number 33. Anderson didnt bring in it. What really caught his eye were the tiny tattoos on the tips of the riffle and index finger.A goddamn freak show. headman? One of the guards travel over, holding out a phone. Personal distinguish for you. Security patchboard just patched it through.Anderson looked at him like he was insane. Im in the middle of whatsoeverthing here, he growled.The guards face was pale. He covered the mouthpiece and whispered. Its CIA.Anderson did a retell take. CIA get a lined about this already?Its their space of Security.Anderson stiffened. Holy shit. He glanced un e asy at the phone in the guards hand.In Washingtons vast ocean of word of honor agencies, the CIAs voice of Security was something of a Bermuda Trianglea mysterious and unsafe 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. analogous a powerful internal- affairs office, the OS monitored all CIA employees for illicit appearance misappropriation of funds, selling of secrets, stealing classified technologies, and social function of illegal wring tactics, to micturate a few.They spy on Americas spies.With investigative carte blanche in all matters of subject bea security, the OS had a long and potent reach. Anderson could non fathom why they would be interested in this mishap at the Capitol, or how they had found out so fast. Then again, the OS was rumored to brace look everywhere. For all Anderson knew, they had a direct feed of U.S. Capitol security cameras. This incident did non match OS directives in any way, although the timing of the call seemed too coincidental to Anderson to be about anything other 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 now. Its . . . He paused and silently mouthed 2 syllables. SA-TO. Anderson squinted hard at the man. Youve got to be kidding. He tangle his palms begin to sweat. Sato is intervention this personally?The overlord of the Office of Securityconductor Inoue Satowas a subtitle in the intelligence community. Born inside the fences of a Nipponese impounding camp in Manzanar, California, in the aftermath of Pearl Harbor, Sato was a problematic survivor who had never forgotten the horrors of war, or the perils of insufficient military intelligence. Now, having travel to one of the well-nigh secretive and potent posts in U.S. intelligence field, Sato had proved an uncompromising patriot as well as a terrify enemy to any who stood in opposition. Seldom seen but universally fe atomic number 18d, the OS director cruised the deep waters of the CIA like a leviathan who surfaced unaccompanied to follow through its prey.Anderson had met Sato face-to-face only once, and the memory of looking into those cold stern look was decent 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. Director Sato, he utter in as genial a voice as possible. This is Chief Anderson. How may I in that respect is a man in your building to whom I need to speak at once. The OS directors voice was unmistakablelike gravel grating on a chalkboard. Throat cancer surgery had remaining Sato with a deep unnerving intonation and a repulsive neck sugar to match. I want you to adventure him for me immediately.Thats all? You want me to page someone? Anderson entangle suddenly hopeful that maybe the ti ming 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 a place it. He was now wondering if Sato knew about the hand. Im in the Rotunda at the moment, Anderson said, but weve got some tourists here . . . hold on. He lowered his phone and called out to the group, Folks, is at that place anyone here by the name of Langdon?After a short silence, a deep voice replied from the crowd of tourists. Yes. Im Robert Langdon.Sato knows all. Anderson craned his neck, trying to see who had spoken up.The like 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. mend him than me. Hold on. He waved Langdon over. As Langdon approached, Anderson suddenly realized why the name sounded familiar. I just read an article about this guy. What the infernal region is he doing here?Despite Langdons six-foot frame and athletic build, Anderson saw none of the cold, situated edge he expected from a man famous for live on an explosion at the Vatican and a manhunt in Paris. This guy eluded the French jurisprudence . . . in loafers? He looked more like someone Anderson would expect to find hearthside in some Ivy League library reading Dostoyevsky.Mr. Langdon?Anderson said, locomote halfway to meet him. Im Chief Anderson. I handle security here. You permit a phone call.For me? Langdons blue eyeball looked anxious and uncertain.Anderson held out the phone. Its the CIAs Office of Security.Ive never heard of it.Anderson smiled omi passly. Well, sir, its heard of you.Langdon assemble the phone to his ear. Yes?Robert Langdon? Director Satos jolty voice blared in the tiny speaker, loud lavish that Anderson could hear.Yes? Langdon replied.Anderson steppe d closer to hear what Sato was saying.This is Director Inoue Sato, Mr. Langdon. I am handling a crisis at the moment, and I believe you boast information that can help me.Langdon looked hopeful. Is this about lance Solomon? Do you know where he is? bill Solomon? Anderson felt holyly 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. rugged 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. attend keeping overflowingy, Sato said. As we speak, this nation is facing a crisis. I cause been counsel that you go for 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 idea what youre talking about. All Im concerned with is finding Peter andNo idea? Sato challenged.Anderson saw Langdon bristle. The professor now took a more aggressive bankers bill. No, sir. No damned idea at all. Anderson winced. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Robert Langdon had just make a very existly mistake in dealing with Director Sato.Incredibly, Anderson now realized it was too late. To his astonishment, Director Sato had just appeared on the far-off side of the Rotunda, and was approaching fast behind Langdon. Sato is in the building Anderson held his pinch and braced for impact. Langdon has no idea.The directors dark form drew closer, phone held to ear, melanize eyes locked like two lasers on Langdons back.Langdon clutched the police chiefs phone and felt a rising frustration as the OS director touch him. Im sorry, sir, Langdon said tersely, but I cant read your point. What do you want from me?What do I want from you? The OS directors grating voice crackled through Langdons phone, abrasion and hollow, like that of a dying man with strep thro at.As the man spoke, Langdon felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and his eyes were drawn low . . . directly into the face of a tiny Japanese woman. She had a fierce expression, a mottled 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 liveers, you can stop calling me sir. Langdon stared, mortified. Maam, I . . . apologize. Our connection was brusk 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 storm of a woman who stood a mere four feet ten inches. She was overdress thin, with jagged features and a dermatological condition know as vitiligo, which gave her complexion the mottled 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 zip to hide the scar across her neck. It had been noned by her coworkers that Satos only assent 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 accurate instincts, a combination which girded her with a self- boldness that made her terrifying to anyone who could not perform the impossible. Not notwithstanding 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 tree trunk weight, but she returned to the office as if nothing had happened. Inoue Sato appeared to be indestructible.Robert Langdon suspected he was probably not the starting signal to mistake Sato for a m an on the phone, but the director was still glaring at him with simmering 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 even. 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 running 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 gentleman 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 glanced at the hand as if it were nothing more than a misplaced piece of clothing. And so far you didnt mention it to me when I called?I . . . I thought you knew.Do not lie to me.Anderson wilted downstairs her gaze, but his voice remained confident. Maam, this situation is under control.I really distrust that, Sato said, with equal confidence.A forensics team is on the way. Whoever did this may have left fingerprints.Sato looked skeptical. I think 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 issue of national security.Peters hand? Langdon wondered, observance their exchange in a daze. national security? L angdon was sensing that his own urgent goal of finding Peter was not Satos. The OS director seemed to be on another 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 s groinowed hard. But shouldnt we at least print the fingers to confirm the hand belongs to Peter Solomon?Ill confirm it, Langdon said, feeling a sickening 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 glasses and walked toward the hand, circling like a shark.Also, Langdon said, although you cant see the other one-third 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 the other fingertips for us, gratify?Anderson crouched down beside the hand, being careful not to touch it. He put his cheek near the floor and looked up under the clenched fingertips. Hes right, maam. All of the fingertips have tattoos, although I cant quite see what the otherA sun, a lantern, and a key, Langdon said flatly.Sato turned fully to Langdon now, her small eyes judge 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 Hand of the Mysteries. Anderson stood up abruptly. This thing has a name?Langdon nodded. Its one of the most secretive icons of the ancient world.Sato cocked her head. Then might 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 invitatio n . . . to what? she demanded.Langdon looked down at the symbols on his friends 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 sable 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 everyday arrival routineher rounds as her brother called them.Like a nauseated parent checking on a sleeping baby, Katherine poked her head into the mechanical room. The henry fuel cell was running smoothly, its backup tanks all safely nestle in their racks.Katherine continued down the hall to the selective information-storage room. As always, the two special holographic backup units hummed safely within their temperature-controlled vault. All of my re look to, she thought, gazing in through the three-inch-thick shatterproof glass. Holographic data-storage devices, unlike their refrigerator-size ancestors, looked more like sleek stereophonic system components, each perched atop a columnar pedestal.Both of her labs holographic drives were synchronized and identicalserving as redundant backups to safeguard identical copies of her work. more or less backup protocols advocated a secondary backup system off-site in case of earthquake, fire, or theft, but Katherine and her brother agreed that secrecy was preponderant once this data left the building to an off-site server, they could no agelong 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 at large(p) emanating from behind the Plexiglas wall of the control room.Hes here. Katherine flew across the lab, arriving at the control-room room access and heaving it open. Peter 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 carrottop was a genius data modeler and had signed a nondisclosure papers 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 sooner you and your brother arrived.Have you spoken to him? Hes late and hes not answering his phone.Trish agitate her head. I bet hes still trying to figure out how to use that new iPhone you gave him.Katherine appreciated Trishs corking humor, and Trishs presence here had just abandoned her an idea. Actually, Im glad youre in tonight. You might be able to help me with something, if you dont mind?Whatever it is, Im sure it beats football.Katherine took a deep breath, calming her mind. Im not sure how to explain this, but earlier today, I heard an odd 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. vivid scientist. Lousy 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. okay . . . 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 onwa rds I do. Id love to know if this legend has ever been corroborated anywhere else in history.In all of history?Katherine 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 World Wide Web, and the ongoing digitization of the great libraries and museums in the world, Katherines goal could be achieved by development a relatively simple search 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 relieve specialized Optical acknowledgment Recognition translation modules to generate English text from obscure languages. She had to be the only metasystems specialist on earth who had built OCR translation modules in Old Frisian, Maek, and Akkadian.The modules would hel p, but the trick to building an effective search wanderer was all in choosing the right key words. Unique but not overly restrictive.Katherine looked to be a step ahead of Trish and was already jot down down possible keywords on a chemise of paper. Katherine had written down several when she paused, thought a moment, and and then 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 probe? 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 field that often transformed preconceived falsehoods into confirmed truths. Trish Dunne seriously doubted this key-phrase search would fall into that catego ry.How long for results? Katherine asked.A few minutes to compile the spider and launch it. After that, maybe fifteen for the spider to exhaust itself.So fast? Katherine looked encouraged.Trish nodded. Traditional search engines often required a full day to crawl across the entire online universe, find new documents, patronize their content, and add 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, giving medications. 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 thou horse senses 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. Coding a search spider was a unskilled 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.Just over a year ago, Trish had quit her line of business as a metasystems analyst in one of the high-tech industrys many booth farms. In her off-hours, she did some freelance programming and started an industry intercommunicate upcoming 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 bookNoetic Science newfangled Gateway to Ancient Wisdoman d 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 promising scientists Google themselves.Your blog intrigues me, Katherine told her. I wasnt aware metasystems modeling had come so far.Yes, maam, Trish managed, starstruck. selective information 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 interbreeding with my metasystems work.Your blog said you believe metasystems modeling can transform the fill of Noetics?Absolutely. I believe metasystems could turn Noetics into real science.Real science? Katherines tone hardened slightly. As opposed to . . . ?Oh shit, that came out wrong. Um, what I meant is that Noetics is more . . . esoteric.Katherine laughed. Relax, Im kidding. I get that all the time.Im not surprised, Trish thought. Even the Institute of Noetic Sciences in California described the field in arcane and abstruse language, specify it as the study 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 might relate to a project Im working on. Any accident youd be willing to meet? Id love to pick your principal.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 belie ve 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 awing piece of property.Your house is amazing, Katherine said.Thanks. I got lucky in college and licensed some software Id written.Metasystems stuff?A precursor to metasystems. Following 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 spare 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 emotional 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 found 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 foreland and better advise the president on the emotional impact of the event.Fascinating, Katherine said, solidus her chin. So essentially youre examining a population of individuals . . . as if it were a hotshot 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 different attributes and different purposes, but it functions as a single entity.Katherine nodded enthusiastically. Like a flock of birds or a schoolhouse of fish moving as one. We call it convergence or entanglement.Trish sensed her famous guest was starting to see the potentiality of metasystem programming in her own field of Noetics. My software, Trish explained, was designed to help government agencies better pass judgment 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 outcome 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, might 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. S ome users will fare flying first-aid missions into underdeveloped countries. Some users will practice flying rider jets into skyscrapers. Knowledge is a tool, and like all tools, its impact is in the turn over of the user.Katherine sat back, looking impressed. So let me ask you a mantic 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 thusly exerts graveness. Again, too small to feel, but there.Right.Now, Katherine said, if we take trillions of these sand grains and let them attract one another to form . . . say, the moon, then their combined gravity is enough to move entire oceans and drag the tides back and forth across 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 fiddling 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 resembling 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 thinking the same thing, then the gravitational force of that thought becomes tangible . . . and it exerts actual force. Katherine winked. And it can have a measurable effect in our physical world.