iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第51部分

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ause　I　thought　I　was　going　to　lose　you。〃　She　stopped；　galled　by　the　thought。　〃And　now　I'm　losing　you　to　a　book。　A　book。　At　least　tell　me　it's　not　what　I　think；　Tom。　Tell　me　you've　been　seeing　a　senior　on　the　side　all　this　time。　Tell　me　it's　because　she　doesn't　do　all　the　stupid　things　I　do；　she　doesn't　dance　naked　in　front　of　you　like　some　kind　of　idiot　because　she　thinks　you　enjoy　her　singing；　or　wake　you　up　at　6　A。M。　to　go　running　because　she　wants　to　make　sure；　every　single　morning；　that　you're　still　there。　Tell　me　something。〃
　She　looked　up　at　me；　broken　in　a　way　that　I　know　ashamed　her；　and　I　could　only　think　of　one　thing。　There　was　a　night；　not　long　after　the　accident；　when　I　accused　my　mother　of　not　caring　for　my　father。　If　you　loved　him；　I　said　to　her；　you　would've　supported　his　work。　The　look　that　crossed　her　face；　which　I　can't　begin　to　describe；　told　me　there　was　nothing　more　shameful　in　the　world　than　what　I　had　just　said。
　〃I　love　you；〃　I　told　Katie；　stepping　toward　her　so　that　she　could　press　her　face　into　my　shirt　and　be　invisible　for　a　moment。　〃I'm　so　sorry。〃
　And　that　was　the　moment；　I　think；　when　the　tide　began　to　change。　My　terminal　condition；　the　love　affair　I　thought　was　in　my　genes；　slowly　started　to　lose　its　grip　on　me。　The　triangle　was　collapsing。　In　its　place　stood　a　pair　of　points；　a　binary　star；　separated　by　the　smallest　possible　distance。
　A　jumble　of　silences　followed；　all　the　things　she　needed　to　say　but　knew　she　shouldn't　have　to；　all　the　things　I　wanted　to　say　but　didn't　know　how　to。
　〃I'll　tell　Paul；〃　I　said；　the　best　and　most　truthful　thing　I　could；　〃I'm　going　to　stop　working　on　the　book。〃
　Redemption。　The　realization　that　I　wasn't　putting　up　a　fight；　that　I'd　finally　figured　out　what　was　best　for　my　own　happiness；　was　enough　to　make　Katie　do　something　I　think　she　was　saving　for　much　later；　after　I　was　back　on　the　wagon　for　sure。　She　kissed　me。　And　that　moment　of　contact；　like　the　lightning　that　gave　the　monster　his　second　shot　at　life；　created　a　new　beginning。
　I　didn't　see　Paul　that　night；　I　spent　it　with　Katie　and　ended　up　telling　him　my　decision　the　next　day　at　Dod。　He；　too；　seemed　unsurprised。　I'd　been　suffering　so　much　with　Colonna　that　he　sensed　I　might　throw　in　the　towel　at　the　first　sign　of　relief。　He'd　been　persuaded　by　Gil　and　Charlie　that　it　was　the　best　thing　anyway；　and　somehow　he　didn't　hold　it　against　me。　Maybe　he　guessed　I'd　be　back。　Maybe　he'd　e　far　enough　to　think　he　could　finish　the　riddles　alone。　Whatever　it　was；　when　I　finally　told　him　my　reasoning…the　lesson　of　Jenny　Harlow　and　Carracci's　engraving…he　seemed　to　agree。　I　could　tell　from　his　expression　that　he　knew　more　about　Carracci　than　I　did；　but　he　never　once　corrected　me。　Paul；　who　had　more　reasons　than　anyone　to　believe　that　some　interpretations　are　better　than　others；　and　that　the　right　ones　make　all　the　difference；　was　generous　about　my　spin　on　things；　the　same　way　he'd　always　been。　It　was　more　than　his　way　of　showing　respect；　I　think；　it　was　his　way　of　showing　friendship。
　〃It's　better　to　love　something　that　can　love　you　back；〃　he　told　me。
　It　was　the　only　thing　he　needed　to　say。
　　
　What　began　as　Paul's　thesis；　then；　became　Paul's　thesis　once　more。　At　first；　it　looked　as　if　he　might　pull　it　off　alone。　The　fourth　riddle；　which　had　taken　a　whip　to　me；　came　to　him　in　three　days。　I　suspect　he'd　had　the　idea　all　along；　but　kept　it　from　me　because　he　knew　I　wouldn't　take　his　advice。　The　answer　was　in　a　book　called　the　Hieroglyphica；　by　a　man　named　Horapollo；　which　turned　up　in　Renaissance　Italy　in　the　1420s；　purporting　to　solve　the　ages…old　problem　of　interpreting　Egyptian　hieroglyphics。　Horapollo；　taken　by　humanists　to　be　some　kind　of　ancient　Egyptian　sage；　was　in　fact　a　fifth…century　scholar　who　wrote　in　Greek　and　probably　didn't　know　much　more　about　hieroglyphics　than　Eskimos　know　about　summer。　Some　of　the　symbols　in　his　Hieroglyphica　involve　animals　that　aren't　even　Egyptian。　Still；　amidst　the　humanist　fervor　over　new　knowledge；　the　text　became　wildly　popular；　at　least　in　the　small　circles　where　wild　popularity　and　dead　languages　weren't　mutually　exclusive。
　The　night…owl；　according　to　Horapollo；　is　a　symbol　of　death；　for　the　night…owl　suddenly　descends　upon　the　young　of　the　crow　in　the　night；　as　death　es　upon　a　man　suddenly。　An　eagle　with　a　twisted　beak；　Horapollo　wrote；　signifies　an　old　man　dying　of　hunger；　for　when　the　eagle　grows　old；　he　twists　his　beak　and　dies　of　hunger。　The　blind　beetle；　finally；　is　a　glyph　that　means　a　man　has　died　from　sunstroke；　for　a　beetle　dies　when　blinded　by　the　sun。　Cryptic　as　Horapollo's　reasoning　was；　Paul　knew　immediately　that　he'd　fixed　on　the　right　source。　And　he　saw　very　quickly　what　the　three　animals　had　in　mon：　death。　Applying　the　Latin　word　for　it；　mors；　as　his　cipher；　he　produced　Colonna's　fourth　message。
　
　You　who　have　e　so　far　are　joined　by　the　philosophers　of　my　day；　who　in　your　time　are　perhaps　the　dust　of　ages；　but　who　in　mine　were　the　giants　of　mankind。　I　am　soon　to　put　upon　you　the　burden　of　what　remains；　for　there　is　much　to　tell　and　I　grow　fearful　that　my　secret　is　too　easily　spread。　But　first；　out　of　deference　to　your　acplishment；　I　will　offer　you　the　beginnings　of　my　story；　so　that　you　will　know　I　have　not　led　you　this　far　in　vain。
　There　is　a　preacher　in　the　land　of　my　brethren　who　has　brought　a　great　pestilence　upon　the　lovers　of　knowledge。　We　have　battled　him　with　all　our　wit　and　influence；　but　this　single　man　raises　our　countrymen　against　us。　He　thunders　in　the　squares　and　from　the　pulpits；　and　the　mon　men　of　all　nations　take　up　arms　to　do　us　harm。　Just　as　God；　out　of　jealousy；　brought　to　nothing　the　tower　in　the　plain　of　Shinar；　which　men　built　toward　the　heavens；　so　He　raises　His　fist　against　us；　who　attempt　the　very　same。　I　did　long　ago　hope　that　men　wished　to　be　delivered　from　ignorance；　just　as　slaves　wish　to　be　freed　from　bondage。　It　is　a　condition　unbeing　our　dignity；　and　contrary　to　our　nature。　Yet　I　find　now　that　the　race　of　men　is　a　cowardly　thing；　a　perversion　like　the　owl　of　my　riddle；　which　though　it　might　enjoy　sunlight；　prefers　darkness。　You　will　hear　no　more　of　me；　reader；　upon　the　pletion　of　my　crypt。　To　be　a　prince　to　such　people　as　this；　is　to　be　a　castled　kind　of　beggar。　This　book　will　be　my　only　child；　may　it　live　long；　and　serve　you　well。
　
　Paul　hardly　paused　to　contemplate　it；　he　pushed　on　to　the　fifth　and　final　riddle；　which　he'd　found　while　I　struggled　with　the　fourth：　Where　do　blood　and　spirit　meet？
　〃It's　the　oldest　philosophical　question　in　the　book；〃　he　told　me；　while　I　puttered　around　the　room；　preparing　for　a　night　with　Katie。
　〃What　is？〃
　〃The　intersection　of　mind　and　body；　the　flesh…spirit　duality。　You　see　it　in　Augustine；　in　contra　Manichaeos。　You　see　it　in　modern　philosophy。　Descartes　thought　he　could　pinpoint　the　soul　somewhere　near　the　pineal　gland　in　the　brain。〃
　He　continued　that　way；　paging　through　a　book　from　Firestone　and　sputtering　philosophy；　while　I　packed。
　〃What　are　you　reading？〃　I　asked；　pulling　my　copy　of　Paradise　Lost　off　the　shelf　to　bring　with　me。
　〃Galen；〃　Paul　said。
　〃Who？〃
　〃The　second　father　of　western　medicine；　after　Hippocrates。〃
　I　remembered。　Charlie　had　studied　Galen　in　a　history　of　science　class。　By　Renaissance　standards；　though；　Galen　was　no　spring　chick：　he　died　thirteen　hundred　years　before　the　Hypnerotomachia　was　published。
　〃Why？〃　I　asked。
　〃I　think　the　riddle　is　about　anatomy。　Francesco　must've　believed　there　was　an　actual　organ　in　the　body　where　blood　and　spirit　met。〃
　Charlie　appeared　in　the　doorway　with　the　remains　of　an　apple　in　his　hand。　〃What　are　you　amateurs　talking　about？〃　he　said；　hearing　talk　of　things　medical。
　〃An　organ　like　this；〃　Paul　said；　ignoring　him。　〃The　rete　mirabile。〃　He　pointed　to　a　diagram　in　the　book。　〃A　network　of　nerves　and　vessels　at　the　base　of　the　brain。　Galen　thought　this　is　where　vital　spirits　turned　into　animal　ones。〃
　〃What's　wrong　with　it？〃　I　asked；　checking　my　watch。
　〃I　don't　know。　It　doesn't　work　as　a　cipher。〃
　〃That's　because　it　doesn't　exist　in　humans；〃　Charlie　said。
　〃What　do　you　mean？〃
　Charlie　looked　up　and　took　a　last　nibble　from　his　apple。　〃Galen　only　dissected　animals。　The　rete　mirabi