The Handmaids Tale Analysis Essay Example

The Handmaids Tale Analysis Paper The science fictions novel of Margaret Atwoods The Handmaids Tale portrays how the Republic of Gilead, a totalitarian state, oppressively rules its people because of the dangerously low birth rate. In the perspective of a Handmaid named Offred, Offreds role in society, bearing children for elite couples, is disagreeable and insignificant to her and only abides with the government to save her neck. The authors style of writing conveys vivid images to the mind of the readers and thus, aids in the understanding of the whole situation as the story progresses. In the extract from page two of chapter two, a manifold of literary elements is used to effectively introduce the main themes and issues of the novel. The use of metaphors and similes, many adjectives and punctuations, references to the Bible, and how the passage is structured as a whole are all key factors to consider in order to comprehend even the vague, but equally significant, connotative definitions of the words the author has specifically chosen to use in this extract. This extract teaches the readers about the narrators lifestyle from the very first paragraph. The biblical reference to nunnery announces metaphorically that time here is measured by bells, as once in nunneries and that as in nunnery, there are few mirrors. The negative connotation of the word nunnery hints the cloistered and systematic lifestyle of a nun, who has only one purpose in life: to be devoted to God, avoid being involved in the materialistic world and push away human desires. Therefore, this biblical reference to nunnerysuggests to the readers that the narrator also lives a careful, abstaining, and restricted life with only one purpose in life. We will write a custom essay sample on The Handmaids Tale Analysis specifically for you for only $16.38 $13.9/page Order now We will write a custom essay sample on The Handmaids Tale Analysis specifically for you FOR ONLY $16.38 $13.9/page Hire Writer We will write a custom essay sample on The Handmaids Tale Analysis specifically for you FOR ONLY $16.38 $13.9/page Hire Writer The physical appearance is unimportant and thus, as in a nunnery too, there are few mirrors. In this extract, the name of the narrator nor the narrators one purpose in life in the society is not mentioned. However, later on in the story, it becomes more evident that her role in the society is to give birth as service to her Commander and his wife. As in the first paragraph, the rest of the extract consists of long sentences divided into shorter ones by punctuation marks. Commas are the most common forms of punctuation throughout the whole novel. The punctuation marks create a hesitant atmosphere to the extract which correlates with the narrators unsecure state of mind. The language itself is simple and descriptive. For example, the color of blood, red, is a common adjective used throughout the passage: red shoes, red gloves, red cloak, etc. Red describes the pieces of apparel the narrator is wrapped in. The narrator being fully wrapped from head to toe in red leads the readers to hypothesize that this is the narrators state of being every day: tied up by the laws of the Republic of Gilead which has full authorities to control her life. The strong color of red may be tied with the emotions of anger and rebellion the narrator is experiencing. It is hinted that she doesnt enjoy being in this emotional state as she says that I never looked good in red, its not my color. The color blood which defines us may also define the color of love, true love the narrator may have experienced in the past, and birth/reproduction, the narrators only role in society. Also, the references to this color may have the role of revealing the physical and mental states of the narrator which represent the physical and mental states of the rest of the population oppressed by the the Republic of Gilead. The metaphors concerning the nunnery, the similes, like a path, like a carpet for royalty, it show me the way, like the eye of a fish, and myself in it like a distorted shadow, and towards a moment of carelessness that is the same as danger all help convey vivid images to the readers minds by referring to specific colors. The white wings which symbolize the apparel covering the face of the narrator and the lack of mirrors in the house hinder the act of looking at her physical appearance and looking forward. This fact proves that the physical appearance of a person should no longer be valued among the handmaids and thus, creates a forbidding mood to the passage. Despite the dull and melancholy descriptions made by the narrator, the place in which the narrator walks around is described as a model house: polished hallway, like a path through the forest, like a carpet for royalty, late Victorian, the ancient grandfather clock in the hallway, and a motherly front sitting room in which I never sit, but stand or kneel only. These sentences accentuate the wealth of the family of the house as well as the pitiful state of the handmaid and her low social status. This contrast emphasizes the gap in the social status that exists between the family of the house, and the narrator. Even when the narrator does manage to look into a mirror on the hall wall, the sight is only more depressing: like a distorted shadow, a parody of something, some fairytale figure in red cloak. The distorted shadow adds a grey color to the minds of the readers and thus helps in increasing the gloomy mood. The reference to some fairy tale figure in a red cloak suggests how unreal the narrator is feeling at the moment. This may be due to her reluctance to accept the reality and her longing to return to her past life. The last sentence, a sister, dipped in blood is another biblical reference and also a metaphor which explains how she is red from head to toe as if dipped in blood. There is a sense of exaggeration in this description which is linked to imagery which purposefully aids in the understanding of the readers. The extract begins with alternating descriptions of the narrators surroundings and the narrator herself, and ends with an intensified mood in the last sentence: a sister dipped in blood. The main theme introduced in this extract is Gileads role in society. This totalitarian government is superior towards its people in an excessively oppressive way, and the readers can understand the influences Gilead has on the narrator in the society, physically and mentally. Without directly pinning down the main issue, the author has successfully managed to describe Gileads role and influence in the society in the eye of a handmaid who strongly describes everything in a vigilant and disagreeable manner.

Russian Revolution Timeline

Russian Revolution Timeline The Russian Revolution of 1917 deposed the czar and installed the Bolsheviks in power. After winning the civil war in Russia, the Bolsheviks established the Soviet Union in 1922. Timelines of the Russian Revolution are often confusing because up until February 1918 Russia used a different calendar than the rest of the Western world. The 19th century, the Julian calendar, used by Russia, was 12 days behind the Gregorian calendar (used by most of the Western world) until March 1, 1900, when it became 13 days behind. In this timeline, the dates are in the Julian Old Style, with the Gregorian New Style (NS) date in parentheses, until the change in 1918. Thereafter, all dates are in the Gregorian. Timeline of the Russian Revolution 1887 May 8 (May 20 NS) - Lenins brother, Alexander Ulyanov, is hanged for plotting to kill Czar Alexander III. 1894 October 20 (November 1 NS) - Czar Alexander III dies after a sudden illness and his son, Nicholas II, becomes the ruler of Russia.November 14 (November 26 NS) - Czar Nicholas II marries Alexandra Fedorovna. 1895 December 8 (December 20 NS) - Lenin is arrested, kept in solitary confinement for 13 months, and then exiled to Siberia for three years. 1896 May 14 (May 26 NS) - Nicholas II crowned czar of Russia. Print Collector/Getty Images / Getty Images 1903 July 17 - August 10 (July 30 - August 23 NS) - The Russian Social-Democratic Labor Party (RSDLP) meeting in which the Party splits into two factions: Mensheviks (minority) and Bolsheviks (majority). 1904 July 30 (August 12 NS) - After having four girls, Czarina Alexandra gives birth to a son, Alexei. 1905 January 9 (January 22 NS) - Bloody Sunday in St. Petersburg begins the 1905 Russian Revolution.October 17 (October 30 NS) - The October Manifesto, issued by Czar Nicholas II, brings an end to the 1905 Russian Revolution by promising civil liberties and an elected parliament (Duma). 1906 April 23 (May 6 NS) - A constitution (the Fundamental Laws of 1906) is created, reflecting the promises made in the October Manifesto. 1914 July 15 (July 28 NS) - World War I begins. 1915 September 5 (September 18 NS) - Czar Nicholas II assumes supreme command of the Russian Army. 1916 December 17 (December 30) - Rasputin is murdered. 1917 February 23-27 (March 8-12 NS) - The February Revolution begins with strikes, demonstrations, and mutinies in Petrograd (also called the March Revolution if following the Gregorian calendar).March 2 (March 15 NS) - Czar Nicholas II abdicates and includes his son. The following day, Nicholas brother, Mikhail announced his refusal to accept the throne. Provisional Government formed.April 3 (April 16 NS) - Lenin returns from exile and arrives in Petrograd via a sealed train.July 3-7 (July 16-20 NS) - The July Days begin in Petrograd with spontaneous protests against the Provisional Government; after the Bolsheviks unsuccessfully try to direct these protests into a coup, Lenin is forced into hiding.July 11 (July 24 NS) - Alexander Kerensky becomes Prime Minister of the Provisional Government.August 22-27 (September 4-9 NS) - The Kornilov Affair, a failed coup by General Lavr Kornilov, commander of the Russian Army.October 25 (November 7 NS) - The October Revolution - the Bolsheviks take over Petrograd (also called the November Revolution if following the Gregorian calendar). October 26 (November 8 NS) - The Winter Palace, the last holdout of the Provisional Government, is taken by the Bolsheviks; the Council of Peoples Commissars (abbreviated as Sovnarkom), led by Lenin, is now in control of Russia. 1918 February 1/14 - The new Bolshevik government converts Russia from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar turning February 1 into February 14.March 3 - The Treaty of Brest-Litovsk, between Germany and Russia, is signed and takes Russia out of World War I.March 8 - The Bolshevik Party changes its name to the Communist Party.March 11 - The capital of Russia is changed from St. Petersburg to Moscow.June - Russian civil war begins.July 17 - Czar Nicholas II and his family are executed.August 30 - An assassination attempt leaves Lenin seriously wounded. Heritage Images / Getty Images 1920 November - Russian civil war ends. 1922 April 3 - Stalin is appointed General Secretary.May 26 - Lenin suffers his first stroke.December 15 - Lenin suffers his second stroke and retires from politics.December 30 - The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (U.S.S.R.) established. 1924 January 21 - Lenin dies; Stalin will become his successor. Laski Diffusion / Getty Images

Labor Theory of Value Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1000 words

Labor Theory of Value - Essay Example ffort to transform the product from start to completion. Ricardo here was very concerned about the possible difference between the natural price of labor and the market price of labor. He believed that in a market economy, even if natural price, for example, exceeds the market price, then the equilibrium will move due to the change in demand and supply market forces and therefore the natural and market price will be equal eventually. Ricardo believed that this theory is a correction of the mistakes done by Adam Smith while determining the value of products. Adam Smith believed that the value of a commodity is determined by the total of the essential and necessary payments to labor, capital and land. Smith had the idea that it was necessary to take all of the factors into account and only then will the total costs per unit can be calculated which will determine the value of the product. Contrary to Adam Smith’s theory, Ricardo believed that the indirect costs of labor should al so be accounted in the determination process of value. By indirect costs, Ricardo meant that even the labor costs of production or extraction of raw materials and machinery should be accounted for in this process. Similarly, even the labor costs of development of land to make it suitable for use should be considered if the true value of a product is to be determined. David Ricardo believed that labor is the sole source of value addition to a product or service, and therefore all other factors and costs are either not necessary to add or are themselves dependent upon the value of the product to be calculated. His emphasis on the labor to be the sole and prominent input can also be realized on the fact that his theory of competitive advantage is based on the assumption that only labor exists as the factor of production. Since the proposal of this theory from David Ricardo, several economists have passed on their opinions over the credibility of the labor theory of value. Some economis ts have proposed slight adjustments to this theory by adding up some new elements in the determination of the true value which were ignored by Ricardo, but they have regarded this theory as a decent theory. On the other hand, several economists have heavily criticized the labor value of theory believing that the theory fails to address the issues of the contemporary world and hence it is in no way a practical theory. Limitations Some economists have argued that only the involvement of labor costs as the determinant of value of products and services is not good enough and that several dynamic aspects have been ignored. The first argument presented by the economists and critics is that some production methods are capital intensive and therefore a majority of costs and value is added by the work done by the machinery. These costs cannot be left out and therefore this proves to be ignorance on part of Ricardo. Even if the labor costs of manufacturing that machinery are taken into accoun t, even then the value of the firm can

Insider Trading Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 500 words

Insider Trading - Essay Example A corporate officer, for instance, who uses information known to him, but not to the public, to purchase or buy securities is generally guilty of insider trading. Exceptions may be allowed for certain transactions which are immaterial or which are reported the United States Securities and Exchange Commission. It must also be noted, however, that the concept of insider trading extends beyond corporate officers and insiders in the technical sense. It also includes people who provide tips to outsiders. This secondary portion of the definition ensures that the primary subjects of the law, corporate officers and fiduciaries, cannot escape punishment by secretly providing information to outsiders and non-fiduciaries (Insider Trading, 2006). The causes of insider trading are quite easy to understand. To illustrate, a corporate officer knows when the value of the corporation is going to increase or decrease. Perhaps there are secret negotiations for a takeover in which share prices are going to increase. He can sell his securities in order to maximize his profits or minimize his losses.

The Fall of the House of Usher Analysis Essay Example for Free

The Fall of the House of Usher Analysis Essay â€Å"The Fall of the House of Usher† is a short story written by Edger Allan Poe in 1839. Almost everything about the story is very gloomy, dark and depressing. For example, the house is described by the narrator as â€Å"the melancholy House of Usher† and the description of Roderick Usher himself makes you think of a corpse. This theme of dreariness and sorrow pervades the story and is done to a very chilling effect, which really draws in the reader. â€Å"The Fall of the House of Usher† has lots of necessary elements of a traditional Gothic tale: a dreary landscape, a haunted house, mysterious characters, etc. but for all of these elements, the vagueness of the story is a large part of the terror about it. One of the most interesting and endearing elements of this story is its mystery, the fact that Edgar Allan Poe, despite the brilliant description of the setting and physical features of the characters, doesn’t actually give us a lot of information about the characters themselves makes the reader ask a lot of questions: Why is the house in such a state of disrepair? ; If the narrator was a childhood friend of Roderick Usher, why doesn’t he know much about him – like the basic fact that he has a twin sister? Etc. Even the information that Poe does give us begs more questions than it answers, for example, the fact that the Usher family doesn’t have any collateral damage. This feeling of mystery really is a brilliant way of writing a story as it makes the reader want and indeed need to read on in order to answer the questions posed. Due to this, the reader will find it near impossible to put the story down which is definitely a credit to Poe’s talent and style of writing. The characters in â€Å"The Fall of the House of Usher† are very intriguing as well. All three main characters are interesting in their own right and they all have at least something that makes them seem out of the ordinary. Roderick Usher in particular has certain qualities that are extremely interesting and make you want to know more about him. One of them is his appearance; he looks extremely strange and has a look about him that is not easy to forget. He is described as having â€Å"a cadaverousness of complexion; n eye large, liquid, and luminous beyond comparison†¦Ã¢â‚¬  His appearance is especially strange because he had once actually been an attractive man and â€Å"†¦the character of his face had been at all times remarkable. † However, his looks have slowly deteriorated over time. He had in fact changed so much that the narrator â€Å"doubted to whom [he] spoke. † This fact of course then begs the question: What happened to make him change so much? The most obvious quality that makes you want to find out more about him, however, is his mental state. Throughout the story, Roderick displays obvious symptoms of insanity that the narrator picks up on from Roderick Usher’s behaviour: â€Å"In the manner of my friend I was struck with an incoherence an inconsistency; and I soon found this to arise from a series of feeble and futile struggles to overcome a habitual trepidancy an excessive nervous agitation. † The narrator is also an extremely interesting character. At first he seems to simply be a normal, educated man who has a good heart enough to come to the aid of his boyhood friend. However, as soon as he comes into the grounds of the house he becomes more superstitious: â€Å"There can be no doubt that the consciousness of the rapid increase of my superstition†¦Ã¢â‚¬  confused: â€Å"Shaking off from my spirit what must have been a dream, I scanned more narrowly the real aspect of the building†¦Ã¢â‚¬  and even starts to develop a certain insanity and hysteria of his own: â€Å"Rationally Ushers condition terrified, it infected me I felt creeping upon me, by slow yet uncertain degrees, the wild influence of his own fantastic yet impressive superstitions. This shows that, although he is an educated and analytical man, he is susceptible to other influences. He tries to suppress his fears and help his friend throughout the story and is successful until, at the very end, his fear finally overcomes him as Lady Madeline’s reappearance after her death is just too much for him and ends up driving him out the house. Edgar Allan Poe creates a sensation of claustrophobia in this story. The narrator is mysteriously trapped by Roderick’s lure and his need to help his friend. He cannot escape until the house of Usher collapses completely. The house, because of its deteriorated state and seemingly seclusion from everything else, seems to take on a monstrous character of its own—the Gothic mastermind that controls the fate of its inhabitants. Edgar Allan Poe creates confusion between the living things and inanimate objects by doubling the physical house of Usher with the genetic family line of the Usher family, which he refers to as the house of Usher. It is even said in the story that the people of the nearby village refer to both the actual house and the Usher family as â€Å"the house of Usher† which reinforces the idea that they are the same thing. Poe employs the word â€Å"house† metaphorically, but he also describes a real house. The use of description in â€Å"The Fall of the House of Usher† is incredible. The way Edgar Allan Poe uses the emotions of the narrator to enhance the descriptions of the house in particular really helps the reader to paint a picture of the setting in their mind. Personification of the house is used to aid in description as well, which definitely gives it a whole new dynamic and also ends up helping with the actual story being told. The house is described as having â€Å"eye-like windows† which would suggest that the house is like a face staring out at anyone who comes close to it. This really gives the story a new feeling and eeriness about it. Symmetry is a main feature throughout â€Å"The Fall of the House of Usher† and is also a very interesting and important theme. The first aspect of symmetry that we know of is when the narrator sees a reflection of the house of Usher in the tarn in front of it. The second is when the narrator notices a fissure running down the middle of the house itself. The two halves of the house and the house and its reflection seem to represent the two Usher twins, Roderick and Madeline. This idea is reinforced when the two siblings die together as, when they do, the two halves of the house crumble and so the reflection disappears as well. The inhabitants of the village calling the two entities by the same name â€Å"The House of Usher† represent this connection between the family Usher and the actual house of Usher. The Fall of the House of Usher† is a very interesting story that appeals to the modern day person as it undoubtedly did to the people who read it when it was first published. It is a timeless Gothic story that is extremely interesting and intriguing all the way through. There are some faults though such as the fact that the language can be confusing for people nowadays and it’s suggestions, nuances and hints may not be picked up on the first time around. However, it uses different and effective techniques of drawing the reader in and I would definitely recommend this story to anyone who appreciates good literature.

Freudian Analysis of Hamlet Essay -- GCSE English Literature Coursewor

Freudian Analysis of Hamlet As a child, Shakespeare’s Hamlet had experienced the warmest affection for his mother, and this, as is always so, had contained the elements of a disguised erotic quality, still more so in infancy. The presence of two traits in the Queen's character accord with this assumption, namely her markedly sensual nature and her passionate fondness for her son. The former is indicated in too many places in the play to need specific reference, and is generally recognized. The latter is also manifest: Claudius says for instance (79), "The Queen his mother lives almost by his looks". Nevertheless Hamlet appears to have with more or less success weaned himself from her and to have fallen in love with Ophelia. The precise nature of his original feeling for Ophelia is a little obscure. We may assume that at least in part it was composed of a normal love for a prospective bride, though the extravagance of the language used (the passionate need for absolute certainty, etc.) suggests a somewhat morbid frame of mind. There are indications that even here the influence of the old attraction for the mother is still exerting itself. Although some writers, following Goethe, see in ophelia many traits of resemblance to the Queen, perhaps just as striking are the traits contrasting with those of the Queen. [...] Now comes the father's death and the mother's second marriage. The association of the idea of sexuality with his mother, buried since infancy, can no longer be concealed from his consciousness. As Bradley well says: "Her son was forced to see in her action not only an astounding shallowness of feeling, but an eruption of coarse sensuality, 'rank and gross,' speeding post-haste to its horrible delight"... ...d in continuing to "repress" the former he must strive to ignore, to condone, and if possible even forget the latter;his moral fate is bound up with his uncle's for good or ill. In reality his uncle incorporates the deepest and most buried part of his own personality, so that he cannot kill him without also killing himself. This solution, one closely akin to what Freud has shown to be the motive of suicide in melancholia, is actually the one that Hamlet finally adopts. The course of alternate action and inaction that he embarks on, and the provocations he gives to his suspicious uncle, can lead to no other end than to his own ruin and, incidentally, to that of his uncle. Only when he has made the final sacrifice and brought himself to the door of death is he free to fulfil his duty, to avenge his father, and to slay his other self — his uncle.

The Lost Symbol Chapter 44-47

CHAPTER 44 New York editor Jonas Faukman was just turning off the lights in his Manhattan office when his phone rang. He had no intention of picking up at this hour–that is, until he glimpsed the caller- ID display. This ought to be good, he thought, reaching for the receiver. â€Å"Do we still publish you?† Faukman asked, half serious. â€Å"Jonas!† Robert Langdon's voice sounded anxious. â€Å"Thank God you're there. I need your help.† Faukman's spirits lifted. â€Å"You've got pages for me to edit, Robert?† Finally? â€Å"No, I need information. Last year, I connected you with a scientist named Katherine Solomon, the sister of Peter Solomon?† Faukman frowned. No pages. â€Å"She was looking for a publisher for a book on Noetic Science? Do you remember her?† Faukman rolled his eyes. â€Å"Sure. I remember. And thanks a million for that introduction. Not only did she refuse to let me read the results of her research, she didn't want to publish anything until some magical date in the future.† â€Å"Jonas, listen to me, I don't have time. I need Katherine's phone number. Right now. Do you have it?† â€Å"I've got to warn you . . . you're acting a little desperate. She's great looking, but you're not going to impress her by–â€Å" â€Å"This is no joke, Jonas, I need her number now.† â€Å"All right . . . hold on.† Faukman and Langdon had been close friends for enough years that Faukman knew when Langdon was serious. Jonas typed the name Katherine Solomon into a search window and began scanning the company's e-mail server. â€Å"I'm looking now,† Faukman said. â€Å"And for what it's worth, when you call her, you may not want to call from the Harvard Pool. It sounds like you're in an asylum.† â€Å"I'm not at the pool. I'm in a tunnel under the U.S. Capitol.† Faukman sensed from Langdon's voice that he was not joking. What is it with this guy? â€Å"Robert, why can't you just stay home and write?† His computer pinged. â€Å"Okay, hold on . . . I got it.† He moused through the old e-mail thread. â€Å"It looks like all I have is her cell.† â€Å"I'll take it.† Faukman gave him the number. â€Å"Thanks, Jonas,† Langdon said, sounding grateful. â€Å"I owe you one.† â€Å"You owe me a manuscript, Robert. Do you have any idea how long–â€Å" The line went dead. Faukman stared at the receiver and shook his head. Book publishing would be so much easier without the authors. CHAPTER 45 Katherine Solomon did a double take when she saw the name on her caller ID. She had imagined the incoming call was from Trish, checking in to explain why she and Christopher Abaddon were taking so long. But the caller was not Trish. Far from it. Katherine felt a blushing smile cross her lips. Could tonight get any stranger? She flipped open her phone. â€Å"Don't tell me,† she said playfully. â€Å"Bookish bachelor seeking single Noetic Scientist?† â€Å"Katherine!† The deep voice belonged to Robert Langdon. â€Å"Thank God you're okay.† â€Å"Of course I'm okay,† she replied, puzzled. â€Å"Other than the fact that you never called me after that party at Peter's house last summer.† â€Å"Something has happened tonight. Please listen.† His normally smooth voice sounded ragged. â€Å"I'm so sorry to have to tell you this . . . but Peter is in serious trouble.† Katherine's smile disappeared. â€Å"What are you talking about?† â€Å"Peter . . .† Langdon hesitated as if searching for words. â€Å"I don't know how to say it, but he's been . . . taken. I'm not sure how or by whom, but–â€Å" â€Å"Taken?† Katherine demanded. â€Å"Robert, you're scaring me. Taken . . . where?† â€Å"Taken captive.† Langdon's voice cracked as if he were overwhelmed. â€Å"It must have happened earlier today or maybe yesterday.† â€Å"This isn't funny,† she said angrily. â€Å"My brother is fine. I just spoke to him fifteen minutes ago!† â€Å"You did?!† Langdon sounded stunned. â€Å"Yes! He just texted me to say he was coming to the lab.† â€Å"He texted you . . .† Langdon thought out loud. â€Å"But you didn't actually hear his voice?† â€Å"No, but–â€Å" â€Å"Listen to me. The text you received was not from your brother. Someone has Peter's phone. He's dangerous. Whoever it is tricked me into coming to Washington tonight.† â€Å"Tricked you? You're not making any sense!† â€Å"I know, I'm so sorry.† Langdon seemed uncharacteristically disorientated. â€Å"Katherine, I think you could be in danger.† Katherine Solomon was sure that Langdon would never joke about something like this, and yet he sounded like he had lost his mind. â€Å"I'm fine,† she said. â€Å"I'm locked inside a secure building!† â€Å"Read me the message you got from Peter's phone. Please.† Bewildered, Katherine pulled up the text message and read it to Langdon, feeling a chill as she came to the final part referencing Dr. Abaddon. â€Å"`If available, have Dr. Abaddon join us inside. I trust him fully . . .' â€Å" â€Å"Oh God . . .† Langdon's voice was laced with fear. â€Å"Did you invite this man inside?† â€Å"Yes! My assistant just went out to the lobby to get him. I expect them back any–â€Å" â€Å"Katherine, get out!† Langdon yelled. â€Å"Now!† At the other side of the SMSC, inside the security room, a phone began ringing, drowning out the Redskins game. The guard reluctantly pulled out his earbuds one more time. â€Å"Lobby,† he answered. â€Å"This is Kyle.† â€Å"Kyle, it's Katherine Solomon!† Her voice sounded anxious, out of breath. â€Å"Ma'am, your brother has not yet–â€Å" â€Å"Where's Trish?!† she demanded. â€Å"Can you see her on the monitors?† The guard rolled his chair over to look at the screens. â€Å"She hasn't gotten back to the Cube yet?† â€Å"No!† Katherine shouted, sounding alarmed. The guard now realized that Katherine Solomon was out of breath, as if she were running. What's going on back there? The guard quickly worked the video joystick, skimming through frames of digital video at rapid speed. â€Å"Okay, hold on, scrolling through playback . . . I've got Trish with your guest leaving the lobby . . . they move down the Street . . . fast-forwarding . . . okay, they're going into Wet Pod . . . Trish uses her key card to unlock the door . . . both of them step into Wet Pod . . . fast- forwarding . . . okay, here they are coming out of Wet Pod just a minute ago . . . heading down . . .† He cocked his head, slowing the playback. â€Å"Wait a minute. That's odd.† â€Å"What?† â€Å"The gentleman came out of Wet Pod alone.† â€Å"Trish stayed inside?† â€Å"Yes, it looks that way. I'm watching your guest now . . . he's in the hall on his own.† â€Å"Where is Trish?† Katherine asked more frantically. â€Å"I don't see her on the video feed,† he replied, an edge of anxiety creeping into his voice. He looked back at the screen and noticed that the man's jacket sleeves appeared to be wet . . . all the way up to his elbows. What in the world did he do in Wet Pod? The guard watched as the man began to move purposefully down the main hallway toward Pod 5, clutching in his hand what looked like . . . a key card. The guard felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. â€Å"Ms. Solomon, we've got a serious problem.† Tonight was a night of firsts for Katherine Solomon. In two years, she had never used her cell phone inside the void. Nor had she ever crossed the void at a dead run. At the moment, however, Katherine had a cell phone pressed to her ear while she was dashing blindly along the endless length of carpet. Each time she felt a foot stray from the carpet, she corrected back to center, racing on through the sheer darkness. â€Å"Where is he now?† Katherine asked the guard, breathless. â€Å"Checking now,† the guard replied. â€Å"Fast-forwarding . . . okay, here he is walking down the hall . . . moving toward Pod Five . . .† Katherine ran harder, hoping to reach the exit before she got trapped back here. â€Å"How long until he gets to the Pod Five entrance?† The guard paused. â€Å"Ma'am, you don't understand. I'm still fast-forwarding. This is recorded playback. This already happened.† He paused. â€Å"Hold on, let me check the entry event monitor.† He paused and then said, â€Å"Ma'am, Ms. Dunne's key card shows a Pod Five entry event about a minute ago.† Katherine slammed on the brakes, sliding to a halt in the middle of the abyss. â€Å"He already unlocked Pod Five?† she whispered into the phone. The guard was typing frantically. â€Å"Yes, it looks like he entered . . . ninety seconds ago.† Katherine's body went rigid. She stopped breathing. The darkness felt suddenly alive all around her. He's in here with me. In an instant, Katherine realized that the only light in the entire space was coming from her cell phone, illuminating the side of her face. â€Å"Send help,† she whispered to the guard. â€Å"And get to Wet Pod to help Trish.† Then she quietly closed her phone, extinguishing the light. Absolute darkness settled around her. She stood stock-still and breathed as quietly as possible. After a few seconds, the pungent scent of ethanol wafted out of the darkness in front of her. The smell got stronger. She could sense a presence, only a few feet in front of her on the carpet. In the silence, the pounding of Katherine's heart seemed loud enough to give her away. Silently, she stepped out of her shoes and inched to her left, sidestepping off the carpet. The cement felt cold under her feet. She took one more step to clear the carpet. One of her toes cracked. It sounded like a gunshot in the stillness. Only a few yards away, a rustle of clothing suddenly came at her out of the darkness. Katherine bolted an instant too late and a powerful arm snagged her, groping in the darkness, hands violently attempting to gain purchase. She spun away as a viselike grip caught her lab coat, yanking her backward, reeling her in. Katherine threw her arms backward, slithering out of her lab coat and slipping free. Suddenly, with no idea anymore which way was out, Katherine Solomon found herself dashing, dead blind, across an endless black abyss. CHAPTER 46 Despite containing what many have called â€Å"the most beautiful room in the world,† the Library of Congress is known less for its breathtaking splendor than for its vast collections. With over five hundred miles of shelves–enough to stretch from Washington, D.C., to Boston–it easily claims the title of largest library on earth. And yet still it expands, at a rate of over ten thousand items per day. As an early repository for Thomas Jefferson's personal collection of books on science and philosophy, the library stood as a symbol of America's commitment to the dissemination of knowledge. One of the first buildings in Washington to have electric lights, it literally shone like a beacon in the darkness of the New World. As its name implies, the Library of Congress was established to serve Congress, whose venerated members worked across the street in the Capitol Building. This age-old bond between library and Capitol had been fortified recently by the construction of a physical connection–a long tunnel beneath Independence Avenue that linked the two buildings. Tonight, inside this dimly lit tunnel, Robert Langdon followed Warren Bellamy through a construction zone, trying to quell his own deepening concern for Katherine. This lunatic is at her lab?! Langdon didn't even want to imagine why. When he had called to warn her, Langdon had told Katherine exactly where to meet him before they hung up. How much longer is this damned tunnel? His head ached now, a roiling torrent of interconnected thoughts: Katherine, Peter, the Masons, Bellamy, pyramids, ancient prophecy . . . and a map. Langdon shook it all off and pressed on. Bellamy promised me answers. When the two men finally reached the end of the passage, Bellamy guided Langdon through a set of double doors that were still under construction. Finding no way to lock the unfinished doors behind them, Bellamy improvised, grabbing an aluminum ladder from the construction supplies and leaning it precariously against the outside of the door. Then he balanced a metal bucket on top. If anyone opened the door, the bucket would crash loudly to the floor. That's our alarm system? Langdon eyed the perched bucket, hoping Bellamy had a more comprehensive plan for their safety tonight. Everything had happened so fast, and Langdon was only now starting to process the repercussions of his fleeing with Bellamy. I'm a fugitive from the CIA. Bellamy led the way around a corner, where the two men began ascending a wide staircase that was cordoned off with orange pylons. Langdon's daybag weighed him down as he climbed. â€Å"The stone pyramid,† he said, â€Å"I still don't understand–â€Å" â€Å"Not here,† Bellamy interrupted. â€Å"We'll examine it in the light. I know a safe place.† Langdon doubted such a place existed for anyone who had just physically assaulted the director of the CIA's Office of Security. As the two men reached the top of the stairs, they entered a wide hallway of Italian marble, stucco, and gold leaf. The hall was lined with eight pairs of statues–all depicting the goddess Minerva. Bellamy pressed on, leading Langdon eastward, through a vaulted archway, into a far grander space. Even in the dim, after-hours lighting, the library's great hall shone with the classical grandeur of an opulent European palace. Seventy-five feet overhead, stained-glass skylights glistened between paneled beams adorned with rare â€Å"aluminum leaf†Ã¢â‚¬â€œa metal that was considered to be more precious than gold at one time. Beneath that, a stately course of paired pillars lined the second-floor balcony, accessible by two magnificent curling staircases whose newel posts supported giant bronze female figures raising torches of enlightenment. In a bizarre attempt to reflect this theme of modern enlightenment and yet stay within the decorative register of Renaissance architecture, the stairway banisters had been carved with cupidlike putti portrayed as modern scientists. An angelic electrician holding a telephone? A cherubic entomologist with a specimen box? Langdon wondered what Bernini would have thought. â€Å"We'll talk over here,† Bellamy said, leading Langdon past the bulletproof display cases that contained the library's two most valuable books–the Giant Bible of Mainz, handwritten in the 1450s, and America's copy of the Gutenberg Bible, one of only three perfect vellum copies in the world. Fittingly, the vaulted ceiling overhead bore John White Alexander's six-panel painting titled The Evolution of the Book. Bellamy strode directly to a pair of elegant double doors at the center rear of the east-corridor wall. Langdon knew what room lay beyond those doors, but it seemed a strange choice for a conversation. Notwithstanding the irony of talking in a space filled with â€Å"Silence Please† signs, this room hardly seemed like a â€Å"safe place.† Located dead center of the library's cruciform- shaped floor plan, this chamber served as the heart of the building. Hiding in here was like breaking into a cathedral and hiding on the altar. Nonetheless, Bellamy unlocked the doors, stepped into the darkness beyond, and groped for the lights. When he flipped the switch, one of America's great architectural masterpieces seemed to materialize out of thin air. The famous reading room was a feast for the senses. A voluminous octagon rose 160 feet at its center, its eight sides finished in chocolate-brown Tennessee marble, cream-colored Siena marble, and apple-red Algerian marble. Because it was lit from eight angles, no shadows fell anywhere, creating the effect that the room itself was glowing. â€Å"Some say it's the most striking room in Washington,† Bellamy said, ushering Langdon inside. Maybe in the whole world, Langdon thought as he stepped across the threshold. As always, his gaze first ascended straight up to the towering central collar, where rays of arabesque coffers curled down the dome to an upper balcony. Encircling the room, sixteen bronze â€Å"portrait† statues peered down from the balustrade. Beneath them, a stunning arcade of archways formed a lower balcony. Down at floor level, three concentric circles of burnished wood desks radiated out from the massive octagonal circulation desk. Langdon returned his focus to Bellamy, who was now propping the room's double doors wide open. â€Å"I thought we were hiding,† Langdon said, confused. â€Å"If anyone enters the building,† Bellamy said, â€Å"I want to hear them coming.† â€Å"But won't they find us instantly in here?† â€Å"No matter where we hide, they'll find us. But if anyone corners us in this building, you'll be very glad I chose this room.† Langdon had no idea why, but Bellamy apparently wasn't looking to discuss it. He was already on the move toward the center of the room, where he selected one of the available reading desks, pulled up two chairs, and flipped on the reading light. Then he motioned to Langdon's bag. â€Å"Okay, Professor, let's have a closer look.† Not wanting to risk scratching its polished surface with a rough piece of granite, Langdon hoisted his entire bag onto the desk and unzipped it, folding the sides all the way down to reveal the pyramid inside. Warren Bellamy adjusted the reading lamp and studied the pyramid carefully. He ran his fingers over the unusual engraving. â€Å"I assume you recognize this language?† Bellamy asked. â€Å"Of course,† Langdon replied, eyeing the sixteen symbols. Known as the Freemason's Cipher, this encoded language had been used for private communication among early Masonic brothers. The encryption method had been abandoned long ago for one simple reason–it was much too easy to break. Most of the students in Langdon's senior symbology seminar could break this code in about five minutes. Langdon, with a pencil and paper, could do it in under sixty seconds. The notorious breakability of this centuries-old encryption scheme now presented a couple of paradoxes. First, the claim that Langdon was the only person on earth who could break it was absurd. Second, for Sato to suggest that a Masonic cipher was an issue of national security was like her suggesting our nuclear launch codes were encrypted with a Cracker Jack decoder ring. Langdon was still struggling to believe any of it. This pyramid is a map? Pointing to the lost wisdom of the ages? â€Å"Robert,† Bellamy said, his tone grave. â€Å"Did Director Sato tell you why she is so interested in this?† Langdon shook his head. â€Å"Not specifically. She just kept saying it was an issue of national security. I assume she's lying.† â€Å"Perhaps,† Bellamy said, rubbing the back of his neck. He seemed to be struggling with something. â€Å"But there is a far more troubling possibility.† He turned to look Langdon in the eye. â€Å"It's possible that Director Sato has discovered this pyramid's true potential.† CHAPTER 47 The blackness engulfing Katherine Solomon felt absolute. Having fled the familiar safety of the carpet, she was now groping blindly forward, her outstretched hands touching only empty space as she staggered deeper into the desolate void. Beneath her stockinged feet, the endless expanse of cold cement felt like a frozen lake . . . a hostile environment from which she now needed to escape. No longer smelling ethanol, she stopped and waited in darkness. Standing dead still, she listened, willing her heart to stop pounding so loudly. The heavy footsteps behind her seemed to have stopped. Did I lose him? Katherine closed her eyes and tried to imagine where she was. Which direction did I run? Where is the door? It was no use. She was so turned around now that the exit could be anywhere. Fear, Katherine had once heard, acted as a stimulant, sharpening the mind's ability to think. Right now, however, her fear had turned her mind into a tumbling torrent of panic and confusion. Even if I find the exit, I can't get out. Her key card had been lost when she'd shed her lab coat. Her only hope seemed to be that she was now a needle in a haystack–a single point on a thirty- thousand-square-foot grid. Despite the overwhelming urge to flee, Katherine's analytical mind told her instead to make the only logical move–no move at all. Stay still. Don't make a sound. The security guard was on his way, and for some unknown reason, her attacker smelled strongly of ethanol. If he gets too close, I'll know it. As Katherine stood in silence, her mind raced over what Langdon had said. Your brother . . . he's been taken. She felt a bead of cold sweat materialize on her arm and trickle down, toward the cell phone still clenched in her right hand. It was a danger she had forgotten to consider. If the phone rang, it would give away her position, and she could not turn it off without opening it and illuminating the display. Set down the phone . . . and move away from it. But it was too late. The smell of ethanol approached on her right. And now it grew stronger. Katherine struggled to stay calm, forcing herself to override the instinct to run. Carefully, slowly, she took one step to her left. The faint rustle of her clothing was apparently all her attacker needed. She heard him lunge, and the smell of ethanol washed over her as a powerful hand grabbed at her shoulder. She twisted away, raw terror gripping her. Mathematical probability went out the window, and Katherine broke into a blind sprint. She veered hard to the left, changing course, dashing blindly now into the void. The wall materialized out of nowhere. Katherine hit it hard, knocking the wind from her lungs. Pain blossomed in her arm and shoulder, but she managed to stay on her feet. The oblique angle at which she had collided with the wall had spared her the full force of the blow, but it was little comfort now. The sound had echoed everywhere. He knows where I am. Doubled over in pain, she turned her head and stared out into the blackness of the pod and sensed him staring back at her. Change your location. Now! Still struggling to catch her breath, she began moving down the wall, touching her left hand quietly to each exposed steel stud as she passed. Stay along the wall. Slip past him before he corners you. In her right hand, Katherine still clutched her cell phone, ready to hurl it as a projectile if need be. Katherine was in no way prepared for the sound she heard next–the clear rustle of clothing directly in front of her . . . against the wall. She froze, stock-still, and stopped breathing. How could he be on the wall already? She felt a faint puff of air, laced with the stench of ethanol. He's moving down the wall toward me! Katherine backed up several steps. Then, turning silently 180 degrees, she began moving quickly in the opposite direction down the wall. She moved twenty feet or so when the impossible happened. Once again, directly in front of her, along the wall, she heard the rustling sound of clothing. Then came the same puff of air and the smell of ethanol. Katherine Solomon froze in place. My God, he's everywhere! Bare-chested, Mal'akh stared into the darkness. The smell of ethanol on his sleeves had proven a liability, and so he had transformed it into an asset, stripping off his shirt and jacket and using them to help corner his prey. Throwing his jacket against the wall to the right, he had heard Katherine stop short and change direction. Now, having thrown his shirt ahead to the left, Mal'akh had heard her stop again. He had effectively corralled Katherine against the wall by establishing points beyond which she dared not pass. Now he waited, ears straining in the silence. She has only one direction she can move–directly toward me. Even so, Mal'akh heard nothing. Either Katherine was paralyzed with fear, or she had decided to stand still and wait for help to enter Pod 5. Either way she loses. Nobody would be entering Pod 5 anytime soon; Mal'akh had disabled the outer keypad with a very crude, yet very effective, technique. After using Trish's key card, he had rammed a single dime deep into the key-card slot to prevent any other key-card use without first dismantling the entire mechanism. You and I are alone, Katherine . . . for as long as this takes. Mal'akh inched silently forward, listening for any movement. Katherine Solomon would die tonight in the darkness of her brother's museum. A poetic end. Mal'akh looked forward to sharing the news of Katherine's death with her brother. The old man's anguish would be long- awaited revenge. Suddenly in the darkness, to Mal'akh's great surprise, he saw a tiny glow in the distance and realized Katherine had just made a deadly error in judgment. She's phoning for help?! The electronic display that had just flickered to life was hovering waist high, about twenty yards ahead, like a shining beacon on a vast ocean of black. Mal'akh had been prepared to wait Katherine out, but now he wouldn't have to. Mal'akh sprang into motion, racing toward the hovering light, knowing he had to reach her before she could complete her call for help. He was there in a matter of seconds, and he lunged, arms outstretched on either side of her glowing cell phone, preparing to engulf her. Mal'akh's fingers jammed into a solid wall, bending backward and almost breaking. His head collided next, crashing into a steel beam. He cried out in pain as he crumpled beside the wall. Cursing, he clambered back to his feet, pulling himself up by the waist-high, horizontal strut on which Katherine Solomon had cleverly placed her open cell phone. Katherine was running again, this time with no concern for the noise her hand was making as it bounced rhythmically off the evenly spaced metal studs of Pod 5. Run! If she followed the wall all the way around the pod, she knew that sooner or later she would feel the exit door. Where the hell is the guard? The even spacing of the studs continued as she ran with her left hand on the sidewall and her right out in front of her for protection. When will I reach the corner? The sidewall seemed to go on and on, but suddenly the rhythm of the studs was broken. Her left hand hit empty space for several long strides, and then the studs began again. Katherine slammed on the brakes and backed up, feeling her way across the smooth metal panel. Why are there no studs here? She could hear her attacker lumbering loudly after her now, groping his way down the wall in her direction. Even so, it was a different sound that scared Katherine even more–the distant rhythmic banging of a security guard pounding his flashlight against the Pod 5 door. The guard can't get in? While the thought was terrifying, the location of his banging–diagonally to her right–instantly oriented Katherine. She could now picture where in Pod 5 she was located. The visual flash brought with it an unexpected realization. She now knew what this flat panel on the wall was. Every pod was equipped with a specimen bay–a giant movable wall that could be retracted for transporting oversize specimens in and out of the pods. Like those of an airplane hangar, this door was mammoth, and Katherine in her wildest dreams had never imagined needing to open it. At the moment, though, it seemed like her only hope. Is it even operable? Katherine fumbled blindly in the blackness, searching the bay door until she found the large metal handle. Grasping it, she threw her weight backward, trying to slide open the door. Nothing. She tried again. It didn't budge. She could hear her attacker closing faster now, homing in on the sounds of her efforts. The bay door is locked! Wild with panic, she slid her hands all over the door, feeling the surface for any latch or lever. She suddenly hit what felt like a vertical pole. She followed it down to the floor, crouching, and could feel it was inserted into a hole in the cement. A security rod! She stood up, grabbed the pole, and, lifting with her legs, slid the rod up and out of the hole. He's almost here! Katherine groped now for the handle, found it again, and heaved back on it with all her might. The massive panel seemed barely to move, and yet a sliver of moonlight now sliced into Pod 5. Katherine pulled again. The shaft of light from outside the building grew wider. A little more! She pulled one last time, sensing her attacker was now only a few feet away. Leaping toward the light, Katherine wriggled her slender body sideways into the opening. A hand materialized in the darkness, clawing at her, trying to pull her back inside. She heaved herself through the opening, pursued by a massive bare arm that was covered with tattooed scales. The terrifying arm writhed like an angry snake trying to seize her. Katherine spun and fled down the long, pale outer wall of Pod 5. The bed of loose stones that surrounded the entire perimeter of the SMSC cut into her stockinged feet as she ran, but she pressed on, heading for the main entrance. The night was dark, but with her eyes fully dilated from the utter blackness of Pod 5, she could see perfectly–almost as if it were daylight. Behind her, the heavy bay door ground open, and she heard heavy footsteps accelerating in pursuit down the side of the building. The footsteps seemed impossibly fast. I'll never outrun him to the main entrance. She knew her Volvo was closer, but even that would be too far. I'm not going to make it. Then Katherine realized she had one final card to play. As she neared the corner of Pod 5, she could hear his footsteps quickly overtaking her in the darkness. Now or never. Instead of rounding the corner, Katherine suddenly cut hard to her left, away from the building, out onto the grass. As she did so, she closed her eyes tightly, placed both hands over her face, and began running totally blind across the lawn. The motion-activated security lighting that blazed to life around Pod 5 transformed night into day instantly. Katherine heard a scream of pain behind her as the brilliant floodlights seared into her assailant's hyper dilated pupils with over twenty-five-million candlepower of light. She could hear him stumbling on the loose stones. Katherine kept her eyes tightly closed, trusting herself on the open lawn. When she sensed she was far enough away from the building and the lights, she opened her eyes, corrected her course, and ran like hell through the dark. Her Volvo's keys were exactly where she always left them, in the center console. Breathless, she seized the keys in her trembling hands and found the ignition. The engine roared to life, and her headlights flipped on, illuminating a terrifying sight. A hideous form raced toward her. Katherine froze for an instant. The creature caught in her headlights was a bald and bare-chested animal, its skin covered with tattooed scales, symbols, and text. He bellowed as he ran into the glare, raising his hands before his eyes like a cave-dwelling beast seeing sunlight for the first time. She reached for the gearshift but suddenly he was there, hurling his elbow through her side window, sending a shower of safety glass into her lap. A massive scale-covered arm burst through her window, groping half blind, finding her neck. She threw the car in reverse, but her attacker had latched on to her throat, squeezing with unimaginable force. She turned her head in an attempt to escape his grasp, and suddenly she was staring at his face. Three dark stripes, like fingernail scratches, had torn through his face makeup to reveal the tattoos beneath. His eyes were wild and ruthless. â€Å"I should have killed you ten years ago,† he growled. â€Å"The night I killed your mother.† As his words registered, Katherine was seized by a horrifying memory: that feral look in his eyes–she had seen it before. It's him. She would have screamed had it not been for the viselike grip around her neck. She smashed her foot onto the accelerator, and the car lurched backward, almost snapping her neck as he was dragged beside her car. The Volvo careened up an inclined median, and Katherine could feel her neck about to give way beneath his weight. Suddenly tree branches were scraping the side of her car, slapping through the side windows, and the weight was gone. The car burst through the evergreens and out into the upper parking lot, where Katherine slammed on the brakes. Below her, the half-naked man clambered to his feet, staring into her headlights. With a terrifying calm, he raised a menacing scale-covered arm and pointed directly at her. Katherine's blood coursed with raw fear and hatred as she spun the wheel and hit the gas. Seconds later, she was fishtailing out onto Silver Hill Road.