“2004 A.D., Mr. Harriman. It forms the end of the golden ratio. Do the math. The date 3243 B.C. is exactly 5,247 years ago: golden ratio. The date 1239 B.C. is exactly 3,243 years ago: golden ratio again. The next date in the series is 2004 A.D., which also happens to be the exact number of years separating the earlier disasters. Coincidence?”
Harriman stared at the paper. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? It seemed unbelievable, crazy. And yet the quiet eyes that looked back at him with something like resignation did not look in the least bit crazy.
“I searched for years, Mr. Harriman, for proof that I was wrong. I thought perhaps the dates were incorrect, or that the evidence was flawed. But every discovery I made simply gave more credence to the theory.” He walked to another cabinet and pulled out a sheet of white cardboard. On it, a large spiral—like that of the shell of a chambered nautilus—had been drawn. At its outermost point, it was labeled in red pencil: 3243 B.C.—Santorini/Atlantis. One-third of the way along its curve was another red marking: 1239 B.C.—Sodom/Gomorrah. At other spots along the spiral, smaller tickmarks in black listed dozens of other dates and places:
79 A.D.—Eruption of Vesuvius destroys Pompeii/Herculaneum
426 A.D.—Fall of Rome, sacked and destroyed by barbarians
1348 A.D.—Plague strikes Venice, two-thirds of the population die
1666 A.D.—The Great Fire of London
And at its very center, where the spiral closed in on itself and ended in a large spot of black, was a third red label:
2004 A.D.—???
He balanced the chart on his desk. “As you can see, I’ve charted many other disasters. They all fall precisely along the natural logarithmic spiral, all perfectly aligned in golden ratios. No matter how I cut the data, the last date in the sequence is always 2004 A.D. Always. And what do these natural disasters have in common? They have always struck an important world city, a city notable for its wealth, power, technology—and neglect of the spiritual.”
He reached across his desk, picked a red pencil from a pewter cup. “I’d hoped I was wrong, hoped it was a mere coincidence. I waited for the arrival of the year 2004, expecting to be proved wrong. But I no longer think nature believes in coincidence. There is an order to all things, Mr. Harriman. We have a moral niche on this earth, just as we have an ecological niche. When species exhaust their ecological niche, there is a correction, a purification. Sometimes even an extinction. It’s the way of nature. But what happens when a species exhausts its moral niche?”
He turned the pencil around, moved it to the center of the diagram, and erased the question marks:
2004 A.D.—
“In every instance there were harbingers. Small events, of seemingly limited significance. Many of these events have involved the death of morally dubious persons by the same means as the upcoming disaster. This happened in Pompeii before the eruption of Vesuvius, in London before the Great Fire, in Venice before the plague. So now perhaps you see, Mr. Harriman, why I say that Jeremy Grove and Nigel Cutforth are in themselves meaningless. Oh, to be sure, both men are remarkable for their hatred of religion and morals, their repudiation of decency, their outrageous excess. As such, they are role models for the greed, concupiscence, materialism, cruelty of our times—and particularly of this place, New York. But they are still merely harbingers—the first, I fear, of many.”
Von Menck let the chart fall gently to the desk. “Are you a reader of poetry, Mr. Harriman?”
“No. Not since college, anyway.”
“Perhaps you remember W. B. Yeats’s poem ‘The Second Coming’?
“ Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world . . .
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.”
Von Menck leaned closer. “We live in a time of moral nihilism and a blind worship of technology, combined with a rejection of the spiritual dimension of life. Television, movies, computers, video games, the Internet, artificial intelligence. These are the gods of our times. Our leaders are morally bankrupt, shameless hypocrites, feigning piety but devoid of real spirituality. We live in a time in which university scholars belittle spirituality, scorn religion, and bow deeply to the altar of science. We live in a time when so many spurn the church and the synagogue, where radio commentators are shock jocks spewing hatred and vulgarity, where televised entertainment consists of Real Sex and Celebrity Fear Factor. We live in a time of suicide bombing, terrorism run amok, and nuclear blackmail.”
The room fell silent, save for the faint beep of the recorder. At last, Von Menck stirred, spoke again.