Chayan Bhattacharya

“Is it enough to live in a universe whose laws
spontaneously create life? Or do you prefer ... God?” She paused, looking
embarrassed. “Sorry, after all we’ve been through tonight, I know that’s a strange
question.”

“Well,” Langdon said with a laugh, “I think my answer would benefit from a
decent night’s sleep. But no, it’s not strange. People ask me all the time if I
believe in God.”

“And how do you reply?”

“I reply with the truth,” he said. “I tell them that, for me, the question of God
lies in understanding the difference between codes and patterns.”

Ambra glanced over. “I’m not sure I follow you.”

“Codes and patterns are very different from each other,” Langdon said. “And a
lot of people confuse the two. In my field, it’s crucial to understand their
fundamental difference.”

“That being?”

Langdon stopped walking and turned to her. “A pattern is any distinctly
organized sequence. Patterns occur everywhere in nature—the spiraling seeds of
a sunflower, the hexagonal cells of a honeycomb, the circular ripples on a pond
when a fish jumps, et cetera.”

“Okay. And codes?”

“Codes are special,” Langdon said, his tone rising. “Codes, by definition, must
carry information. They must do more than simply form a pattern—codes must
transmit data and convey meaning. Examples of codes include written language,
musical notation, mathematical equations, computer language, and even simple
symbols like the crucifix. All of these examples can transmit meaning or
information in a way that spiraling sunflowers cannot.”

Ambra grasped the concept, but not how it related to God.

“The other difference between codes and patterns,” Langdon continued, “is
that codes do not occur naturally in the world. Musical notation does not sprout
from trees, and symbols do not draw themselves in the sand. Codes are the
deliberate inventions of intelligent consciousnesses.”

Ambra nodded. “So codes always have an intention or awareness behind
them.”

“Exactly. Codes don’t appear organically; they must be created.”

Ambra studied him a long moment. “What about DNA?”

A professorial smile appeared on Langdon’s lips. “Bingo,” he said. “The
genetic code. That’s the paradox.”

Ambra felt a rush of excitement. The genetic code obviously carried data —
specific instructions on how to build organisms. By Langdon’s logic, that could



mean only one thing. “You think DNA was created by an intelligence!”

Langdon held up a hand in mock self-defense. “Easy, tiger!” he said, laughing.
“You’re treading on dangerous ground. Let me just say this. Ever since I was a
child, I’ve had the gut sense that there’s a consciousness behind the universe.
When I witness the precision of mathematics, the reliability of physics, and the
symmetries of the cosmos, I don’t feel like I’m observing cold science; I feel as
if I’m seeing a living footprint ... the shadow of some greater force that is just
beyond our grasp.”
― Dan Brown