Page 180 of The Secret of Secrets

“Yes, and in addition we can introduce guides on the outside watching in real time.” Finch motioned to the array of cockpits and video screens, each associated with its own coffin-like pod. “When this facility is up and running, these walls will broadcast direct feeds from human minds in the ultimate altered state—the brink of death—which, as you know, Dr. Solomon, usually results in—”

“An out-of-body experience,” she said quietly. “Nonlocal consciousness…”

Langdon thought of the common accounts of patients “dying” in the operating room, only to be resuscitated and report hovering over their bodies or the hospital itself. In death we leave our bodies behind.

“Correct,” Finch replied. “When a subject in one of these pods is placed near death, their consciousness becomes untethered. The powerful mind becomes a detached soul, if you will…a conscious mind outside the physical body. We refer to someone in that state as a ‘psychonaut.’ And when that happens, we can monitor exactly what the psychonaut perceives as he lifts off out of the pod, ascends through the dome, and moves out into the world. These screens will show us a point-of-view feed from an untethered mind…the full experience of nonlocal consciousness, if you will.”

This cannot be real, Langdon told himself, and yet Katherine was taking it all in as if it made perfect sense to her. She looked captivated, as if she had entirely forgotten the man talking to her was holding a gun.

This is her Holy Grail, Langdon reminded himself.

In Katherine’s world, out-of-body experiences were the best evidence for nonlocal consciousness, and yet they were fleeting, and far from proof. A person claiming to have hovered outside his own body was describing a subjective experience, perceived alone and in an altered state of mind. No witnesses…no scientific corroboration. And the inability to reproduce these mystical phenomena in a controlled setting—the replication crisis, as Katherine had described it—regularly cast doubt on the veracity of the accounts. This facility, on the other hand, might finally offer proof that human consciousness could survive apart from the human body; it would be a paradigm-altering breakthrough with miraculous implications for our perspective on life.

And also our perspective on death, Langdon thought, recalling Jonas Faukman’s rationale when he paid top dollar for Katherine’s manuscript: Evidence of nonlocal consciousness speaks directly to humankind’s ultimate hope—the existence of life after death…It’s a topic of universal impact and massive commercial potential.

“What are the cockpits?” Katherine demanded, pointing to the raised platform.

“Believe it or not,” Finch said, “those are for the pilots. We’re still perfecting piloting, but as you can imagine, two implanted brains can now communicate in ways we’re just learning to understand. The out-of-body state is a confusing world, so the psychonaut is coupled with a ‘grounded mind’ to help pilot the experience. The person in the cockpit acts as a spirit guide of sorts.”

Katherine stared at him, momentarily at a loss for words. “You’re telling me you’re navigating…an untethered consciousness?! As if…flying a drone?”

Finch smiled, obviously enjoying Katherine’s epiphany. “I knew you’d understand, Dr. Solomon. You are correct…When this dome is fully operational, these cockpits will support a small squadron of pilots who navigate what amounts to a fleet of invisible drones, which we will send anywhere in the world to observe whatever we like—battlefields, war rooms, or boardrooms. Undetectable. Inescapable.”

And totally impossible! Langdon wanted to shout. It’s madness…pure science fiction. And yet he knew these claims were supported by the increasingly accepted theory of nonlocal consciousness.

Despite Katherine’s beliefs, Langdon still could not quite accept that a consciousness could exit a body and still be present enough to observe the physical world. As a rigorous academic, Langdon felt it was his job to maintain skepticism and rationality in the face of superstition—but in the case of Threshold, he was facing a paradox.

At some point…skepticism itself becomes irrational.

In order to maintain his cynicism about Finch’s claims, Langdon needed to set logic aside and ignore a growing mountain of rational proof. First, there existed thousands of medically documented near-death experiences describing precisely this phenomenon. Second, the world of quantum physics had revealed overwhelming evidence that consciousness was nonlocal and worked in ways we could not yet comprehend. Third, there were thousands of established cases of “paranormal” phenomena—telepathy, precognition, mediumship, shared dreams, sudden savant syndrome—occurrences impossible within our established model, and which required Langdon either to shift his perspective dramatically or be willing to classify those phenomena under his least favorite heading: “Miracles.” In light of the evidence, Langdon knew his refusal to believe that Threshold could work was as rational as seeing a lunar eclipse and insisting the moon was a myth.

“Robert…” Katherine turned to him, her voice brimming with exhilaration. “This changes everything! This is beyond theory…it is proof that consciousness is nonlocal…”

Langdon nodded, trying to imagine how this moment would feel for her, learning suddenly of exponential breakthroughs in a field she had been studying for decades.

Katherine turned back to Finch. “The scientific community needs to know. Noetic science—”

“Threshold is not a science project,” Finch snapped, his fierce tone immediately dominating the room. “It’s a military intelligence operation. The only true source of power is information, and in the war to understand our enemies, this dome is our nuclear arsenal—the ultimate surveillance tool. Threshold is the next generation of remote viewing. The CIA has been working toward this facility for decades.”

Decades? Langdon was taken aback. “Why would the CIA invest so heavily in a project that sounds just like Stargate…which failed thirty years ago?”

Finch’s gaze was uncomfortably piercing. “Very simple, Mr. Langdon. Stargate never failed.” He held his pistol steady as he gestured around the expansive room. “It simply evolved…into something far greater.”

Chapter 113

In the secure communications room at CIA headquarters, Director Judd paced anxiously, awaiting word from Prague. Gessner’s detailed video confession was a disaster. It revealed far too much about their top secret facility. He only hoped he would be able to contain it in time.

Threshold, in concept at least, had been part of Judd’s life for decades now.

As a young CIA analyst, Gregory Judd had been handed a rough drawing of a construction site, which contained a series of unusual mechanical cranes. He was asked to compare the drawing to a satellite photo of the same site. As one would expect, the depictions were almost identical, and Judd logically concluded that the artist had seen this site in person…or at least the photograph.

Then they told me the truth, Judd recalled.

The facility depicted was a highly classified Russian location in Siberia; the satellite photo was taken after the drawing was created; and the artist was a young man named Ingo Swann who had never left the U.S. His information had come from “remote viewing” the site—that was, closing his eyes and relocating his consciousness to Siberia…his point of view hovering over the site and memorizing its features.

Ludicrous, Judd remembered thinking, along with many others at the agency. Nonetheless, the question remained…How did this drawing exist?

The apparent answer came in 1976 when Soviet émigré August Stern confessed to having worked at a Siberian psi-intelligence facility that had successfully remote-viewed a top secret American military installation. Stern’s description of the secure facility was alarmingly accurate…right down to the detailed tile pattern on the floor.