The Judas Strain - James Rollins [200]
Vigor scowled gently. “Now I certainly don’t believe that. God didn’t give us these big brains and not want us to use them. We were born to question, to search, to strive for a fuller understanding of the universe, both external and internal.”
Gray checked his watch again, subtly, a flick of his eyes down to his wrist, not wanting to appear rude.
Vigor decided to quit torturing the young man. He plainly was busy. “I’ll get to my point. Remember back in the barrel vault beneath the Bayon, I mentioned how the angelic script—the possible written form of this unknown genetic language—could be the Word of God mapping out something greater in us, maybe something buried in that ninety-seven percent of our genetic code that is considered junk. What if it’s not junk? Maybe we even caught a glimpse of that greater part of us.”
“How do you mean?”
“The woman Susan. Maybe her transformation was a peek into the true translation of the angelic script?”
Vigor read the disbelief in the commander’s face and held up a hand. “I talked to Lisa earlier this morning. She mentioned how she believed Susan’s brain was fully excited by the energies of the bacteria when exposed to sunlight, awakening those parts of the human brain that are otherwise dormant. I find it interesting that only a tiny fraction of our genetic code is active, and at the same time, we only utilize a small portion of our brain. Don’t you find that odd?”
Gray shrugged, noncommittal. “I suppose.”
Vigor continued. “What if all that angelic script maps out our full potential, that which still remains hidden in all of us, waiting to be awakened? According to the book of Genesis, God made us in his image. What if that image is yet to be fully realized, buried in dormant sections of our brain, hidden within the angelic language of our junk DNA? Maybe all that script written on the walls under the Bayon, glowing in the dark, maybe the ancient writer was attempting to understand that potential, too. You mentioned yourself how it was incomplete, sections missing.”
“That’s true,” Gray conceded. “And you raise some interesting conjectures worth exploring, but I don’t know if we’ll ever know the truth. Susan is back to normal, and I heard from Painter that an excavation team was able to breach the foundation vault beneath the Bayon. Some of the walls were found intact, but Nasser’s acid bomb had stripped the surfaces clean. Nothing remains of the script.”
Vigor felt his heart sink. “A shame. Still, I wonder about something that we never found down in the cavern.”
“What’s that?”
“Your turtle,” Vigor said. “You thought that the vault might contain a deeper mystery, something that represents the incarnation of Vishnu.”
“Maybe it was just the Judas Strain. The glowing pool. Even you mentioned how the ancient Khmer probably stumbled upon the glowing cavern and attributed it to some god’s home. Maybe Vishnu’s.”
Vigor stared at the commander. “Or maybe Susan was a glimpse of that greater mystery, a peek at the godlike or angelic potential hidden inside all of us.”
Gray finally shrugged, plainly ready to dismiss it. But as Vigor had hoped, he noted a slight pinch to the man’s brows. Curiosity. He wanted Gray to keep his mind open.
Still, Vigor also saw that something more urgently pressed upon the man’s mind and attention. He waved Gray out.
Vigor called to him as he stepped out the door. “Give my best to Seichan.”
Gray stumbled a step, frowned a bit, and headed away.
Vigor replaced his reading glasses.
Ah, sweet youth…
12:20 P.M.
GRAY HANDED THE cup of coffee to the guard outside Seichan’s door. “Is she awake?”
He shrugged, a young sandy-haired ensign from Peoria. “Don’t know.”
Gray pushed through the door. It was a dull assignment for the ensign. The patient was almost continuously sedated after going through a second operation for her gunshot wound. Seichan had retorn her injury and had been bleeding internally.
All because she had saved Gray’s life.
He remembered Seichan’s arms carrying him, the pain in her blistered face, her swollen eye. But he hadn