MAINSTREAM & VISIONARY FICTION - PHILOSOPHY, METAPHYSICS, ANCIENT MYTHS, SPIRITUALITY, BIBLICAL SYMBOLISM
     

 

ONE JUST MAN a novel by STAN I.S. LAW
 
 

Second Edition. Prequel to:
 
 

 ELOHIM - MASTERS & MINIONS
 
 

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 ISBN 978-0-9780267-6-9

Novel, 352 pages 
 

Quebec Province separates from Canada, then embarks on a long return to the Confederation, but not before China leaves its imprint on local politics. Against this background which are a reflection of growing turmoil in geopolitics, Dr. Peter Thornton's promising career as a physician is cut short by an enigmatic gift of healing. He rebels against his destiny, until a will greater than his own takes over and, unwittingly, he learns how to overcome death itself.
 
As always, Stan Law delights in the exploration of human potential. The hero of this novel takes us on a wild ride from Montreal in Canada over to Europe, from Gdansk in northern Poland to the ancient walls of Vatican City. Yet he finds real enchantment within the enigmatic realms, where most of us fear to tread.
 
As usual, you have provided a fascinating story, captivating characters, and profoundly gripping philosophical ideas... ...I am fascinated by your development of the whole cosmology of consciousness. 

Kate Jones, writer/editor, Pasadena, MD, USA

 
I highly recommend having Stan Law read aloud. It boosts sales by creating a rapport with potential customers.

 Mickey Smeele, Queen Bee Books, Port Alberni B.C.

 
What a unique and fascinating story. You truly have an amazing vision. Thank you for sharing your novel. ...One Just Man is an enthralling and entertaining page-turner that stimulates the mind, and inspires readers to envision a new dimension of possibilities.

 Camille Kleidysz, author, Acworth, GA, USA.

 
I bought Mr. Law's book One Just Man and have just finished reading every single word. This book is a jewel.... I own my own company called Exploring the Spirit . . . (and) would like to carry & sell a good number of Mr. Law's books.

 Kathleen Y. Rattigan, 'Exploring the Spirit', Canada

 

 

 One Just Man - Excerpts

Chapter 1 (excerpt from) The Interview

 "An unexamined life is a life not worth living"

 Socrates

 

The time is six o'clock in the morning. It is quite normal for Dr. Peter Thornton to arrive at the Montreal General Hospital well before the appointed time. Today is no exception. Dr. Thornton does not expect a mere five hours of sleep to have an adverse effect on his performance. Performance. That's how he thinks of the Rounds. The dreary morning tour of the Wards with the usual contingent of residents and interns. An ignorant lot.

"Good morning, Dr. Thornton." The tone is coquettish. Halfway between a greeting and a giggle. Dr. Thornton turns his head.

A regular set of white teeth smiles at him. The grin seems incongruously awake below the still sleepy eyelids. A spotless white tunic accentuates the girl's hourglass figure while a crisp white cap is fighting a losing battle in an attempt to regiment the nurse's abundant blond hair. Dr. Thornton tries not to show that he finds the greeting a mite annoying. People shouldn't smile this early in the morning. Not even student nurses. Then he remembers the pixie face. Actually, not so much her face as the soft, resilient body in a darkened linen closet. Last week? Possibly.

Dr. Thornton manages a thin smile. Could it have been last Tuesday? There are so many nurses... Thank God they are all certified STD free. As he is, of course.

"Morning, Nurse."

Dr. Thornton quickens his pace. He missed the nurse's name on her lapel nameplate. Dinah or Donna or something. Peter Thornton enjoys a photographic memory for facts. Scientific facts. They do not include his sex life. Anyway, there are just too many nurses. He smiles again. This time at his own thoughts.

He enters a tiny office. As a final-year resident in Internal Medicine, Dr. Thornton rates his own private office. He takes off his trench coat and flips on the computer terminal on his desk. He scans the moving data at a rate that would leave most people gaping. Each single glance covers the whole screen littered with meticulously tabulated information. At five to seven, a white coat dangling over his shirt sleeves, a perfunctory stethoscope swinging from his neck, Dr. Thornton steps out again into the lacklustre corridor.

It is a good five-minute walk to Ward A-12. Today he must cover three wards in two hours. Hopefully not too many patients will require his personal assistance. Actually, the patients seldom do. It is the inferior, the inept, the inexperienced residents and interns who tax his time and patience. At no time had he been as ignorant as they all seem to be. Never. Not even during his own internship. Dr. Thornton walks quickly, his mind mulling over the patients' medical histories he had just scanned in his office.

There once was a time when, crossing these same passageways, Peter Thornton could sense, almost see, the sauntering shadows of those unfortunates who had come here looking for help. Their empty carcasses were already dispatched to Pathology in the basement, but their unrequited demands, hopes, emotions still persisted, wandering the corridors, unsated. There was a time when Peter could almost hear the disembodied echoes of their pleas, see their silent screams frozen in the horrified eyes gradually submitting to the inevitable. Why had those people been so afraid of dying? Had they had a foreknowledge of some unspoken horror lying ahead, or were they merely ignorant immortals still unaware of their ultimate destiny? There was a time... once...

Now the corridors are empty.

IImpersonal walkways, deserted, hollow, indifferent to suffering, memories. Sequestered in silence. Even the sound of Peter's feet is absorbed by the polymeric carpet. He is the only shadow in the shadowless labyrinth.. The nurses rested in at their stations. This was no-man's space at no-man's time.

read about the interview which threatens to destroy Dr.Thornton's promising career...

 

 
 

 

Chapter 24 (excerpt)

Rome

A limousine with SI insignia takes the foursome to the SI hotel. There, an elevator with the SI monogram sandblasted on its glass walls, lifts them in respectful silence to the suite reserved for the SI VIPs.

"I'll wager that you and I are the only non-members of the Solidarity who ever put their foot inside this building, let alone this suite," Peter comments when, for the first time in three days, they find themselves alone.

Ruth and Peter are given a three-room apartment with a western exposure. If the view is not intentional, then, particularly in Peter's eyes, it is prophetic. The hotel soars twenty stories over the east bank of the Tiber, at the corner of Via di Monte Brianzo and just off Lungo Tevere Manzo. There is one aspect that makes this location unique in all of Rome­­thus, unique in the world. It is the only site which, looking West, points directly over the Piazza Pia and along the full length of the Via della Conciliazione.

"The Road to Reconciliation," Peter whispers as they both admire the view.

Via della Conciliazione leads directly and irrevocably to the Piazza San Pietro and thus to the Basilica itself. The hub of the Citta del Vaticano.

The heart of the Vatican.

"Do you realize, Peter, that, over the last two thousand years, countless millions of people have walked the Via della Conciliazione in the hope of finding a spot on St. Peter's Square close enough to the Basilica to see the Pope?" Ruth's voice is filled with emotion.

Il Papa. The successor of Saint Peter himself.

The successor of the Master.

Peter smiles a little sadly. Not all is what it seems, he muses. It had only been through the insatiable greed and personal ambition that S. Pietro is where and what it is. Ambitious for the Catholic Church, but even more ambitious for himself, Pope Julius II had razed to the ground one of the most ancient and most venerated places of worship in the Western hemisphere. He ordered the destruction of the church, which marked the place where St. Peter had been martyred. Pope Julius II brought together the genius of Bramante, Michelangelo and Raphael. He cajoled, coaxed and bullied them to produce the greatest theatrical extravaganza the world had known up to that time. The Basilica was not completed until a hundred years after Pope Julius II died, but the ties with history had been torn there and then, in the early 1500s. The ties with ancient thought, with the prose of Cicero­­the link with the civilization of early Greece and Rome­­had been severed forever.

The new Humanism in the Catholic Church never looked back.

There had been feeble attempts to remind Rome, or rather the Vatican, of its roots. The last such, in the middle of the 19th century, Pope Pius IX issued a Syllabus of Errors, in which he denounced, inter alia, materialism, free thought and nationalism. But it was too little, too late. People no longer believed him. Five years later, to add weight to the Word of God, and certainly to the dicta of the Church, to gain power, Pope Pius convened the Vatican Council, later known as Vatican I. In it he declared the dogma of Papal ex cathedra Infallibility. But the Papal pronouncement was not taken seriously. Spain, France, even Italy denounced it.

The Church had lost another battle.

A hundred years later, John XXIII, tried hard to reverse the course of history. He opened wide his loving peasant arms... He tried to reconcile the irreconcilable. He did his best to advocate compassion and discussion instead of harshness and the imposition of power. He died before Vatican II was over. His successor preferred... a more conservative approach.

It was too late by then. Much, much too late.

"Yes, dear. Perhaps people were looking for reconciliation. I wonder what they found," Peter says after a while. "I wonder if they found what they came looking for."

The people were not ready. Their consciousness would have remained dormant, had the Popes succeeded in reversing the tide of history. Not yet.

"Lena told me that our audience is scheduled for 11:30. It is only for ten minutes. The Pope is very weak, she tells me."

The Pope is very weak indeed. The College of Cardinals had met over two weeks ago in expectation that the Pope might not last another night. They were ready to do their duty. The king is dead, they were ready to declare. God save the king!

But surely, my kingdom is not of this world?

It is late. Ruth decides to order a snack from room service, and retire early. The worry over the children, the two flights only a day apart, jet lag, the overall nervous tension during the last few days have left her on the brink of collapse. Peter refrains from helping her unless she asks. She doesn't. Ruth has ambitions of being independent.

An hour later Peter is left alone. He sits back in a chair, in the salon, facing the window. He looks at the eternal city, at the volumes of history at his feet. So much history. So much human strife and endeavour. So much pain, anguish...

Have I been right? He asks himself for the tenth time. Have I done the right thing? His sigh empties his lungs. I give up, he whispers. I give in. I submit to Your will...

That's what I have been waiting for.

Peter closes his eyes. "Who are you?"

I am you.

"Where are you?"

I am within you. And without you. I am also everywhere and nowhere.

Peter remains silent.

I am a state of Consciousness. Your soul. Your salvation. Your immortality. Your Lord. Your Master. I am also your friend, your mate, your benefactor. I am that which you are, which you always wanted to be. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end­­yet I have no beginning and I have no end.

"And who am I?"

You are nothing, an illusion. You are a journey, a vehicle, a way, Tao. You are a means of self-realization. You are that which enables me to be that which I am. You and I are one.

"I do not understand."

I know. Nor can you, ever. Trust me.

continue reading towards the stunning conclusion...

 

 

 

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