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A respected scientists runs away in the dark of night...
A famed financier subverts the financial system that made him a millionaire...
A noted reporter purposefully destroys her own career...
A philosopher systematically destroys the foundations of the world's morality...
Because they faced the same questions that you will when you read
A Lodging of Wayfaring Men :
What if you could be more than you ever thought you could be?
To be better than you thought you could be?
Would you do it?
Instantly named Freedom Book of The Month and hailed with comments such as "I am going to say it again: You need to read this novel," A LODGING OF WAYFARING MEN is certainly one of the most engaging and challenging books you will ever hold in your hands.
A gripping plot and fascinating characters are only the first virtues of this novel. Beneath a unique story and a cast of interesting and unusual players are powerful ideas and obvservations that are as insightful as they are new.
But more than anything else, A LODGING OF WAYFARING MEN is an adventure. At times, you will enter the lives of the most passionate, interesting people you know, and live through radical new discoveries and the the reordering of their lives. Then, you may enter into the mind of a lone genius; joining his tortured efforts to straighten out a twisted world, and his fear of telling too much, too soon, and of destroying rather than healing. Sometimes scientific discovery takes the fore, sometimes friendship and love, other times raw passion and the defense of oneís own sanctity.
This is not a book that youíll read once and then forget. Youíll want to visit these characters regularly. This is a book that youíll want to read...need to read...again and again.
"God, it feels great to live, doesnít it?"
Dr. George Dimitrios, who was rushing through the darkened laboratory carrying a heavy box, stopped and stood still. Six men surrounded him at a distance, darting in and out of the shadows, and dismantling the chem lab in what seemed a controlled panic. Ever since he had forced himself to enter the lab and begin looting it, barely an hour earlier, he had been completely immersed in the work. He concentrated, partly because it was necessary, and partly to keep from thinking about what could happen if he got caught. It seemed like a bad dream, but one that he could escape from only by seeing it to completion.
Now, in the midst of this confusion, Phillip says, loudly, "it feels great to live." God only knew what he meant.
"Hurry-up, and keep the chemicals upright!" The voice came from an unseen corner of the lab, where several of Phillipís guys were dismantling the equipment with surprising skill. George jumped back into action, his concern over chemicals and equipment pushing his fear back to the edges of his consciousness.
There was no way of knowing if or when Campus Security might show up, so the half-dozen men packed-up the lab in lots. The most important items were packed and removed first, the second most-important things next, and so on. George was worried about running if security showed-up. Phillipís guys were also worried about the security boys showing up, but their response would not be to run. These men looked like they would be very good at violence if they needed to be. But they also looked, and were, intelligent. They worried about damaging their personal lives by the after effects of such a conflict.
The first and second batches ‚ cardboard boxes full of tubes, hoses, beakers, bottles, and computers ‚ had made it out of the building, and were on their way to a safe storage site. One more load of boxes and all would be well. Or at least as ëwellí as things were going to be for a long time.
Finally, they were all gone, and only George and Phillip remained. Without a word, they each took separate halves of the building, and made a last check. Since they had all worn gloves, they werenít worried about finger prints, but Phillip did grab a broom, and quickly swept the lab to eliminate traceable foot prints. They exited through the side door and left the broom there, leaning against the dark bricks just outside the door. They pulled up the hoods of their jackets, shuffled silently to the car, and drive quietly away.
It was done. The lab was cleaned-out, along with all of Georgeís log books and computers. It would take a week to reassemble all the equipment at a new lab ‚ if he ever got one again ‚ but at least his work was safe.
The work. Fourteen years of his life spent in a slow, difficult analysis of biochemical residues, and the solving of a dozen molecular riddles. Then, real results, challenged and upheld. George really didnít know how he was able to make such a breakthrough. The truth is that most scientists go their whole careers without making any great discovery; mostly they refine a few ideas, and develop more efficient processes. Some day he would have to determine whether he had in fact done something better than the others, or whether he was just lucky. But for now, driving through the parking lot, his adrenaline was beginning to subside, while his fear remained. He felt almost sick.
His lay back in his seat as far as possible, hoping at the least to find some physical comfort, if he could find none for his mind. Slowly, his thoughts went back through the events that brought him here, and his face grew blank while his mind felt dismal, thick, and gray. His thick black eyebrows looked as though they would have liked to pull themselves together in a deep frown, but they simply lacked the strength to do so. His normally expressive face was blank. Even his black hair, usually thick and wavy, seemed flat.
He could have been up for a Nobel prize, and yet he was here, stealing lab equipment in the dark of night, like a common thief. "God help me," he thought, while his face remained blank, "I am a thief!" And it was true. The lab equipment and supplies were not his property. The University held title to the equipment, and they had ordered Campus Security to close down the lab immediately. He knew he was right to protect and preserve his work, but he was also risking jailÖ months or years in a real jail, with real bad guys sleeping next to him every night! As soon as the security guys got there, theyíd know that the equipment was gone, and he would be suspect number one! When he begged Phillip to find a group of guys to move the equipment, he had told himself that he was a modern Galileo, standing up to ignorant rulers; he hadnít thought about a real jail sentence. In an instant, all his remaining strength withdrew, sucked into a tight knot somewhere in his abdomen. "Oh my God, how stupid have I been?" He felt sick with a primal sort of dread. It was a terrible feeling that he vaguely remembered from long, long agoÖ "God, this is just too much," he said as the car made its way through a dark alley. It was spoken so quietly that Phillip, driving the car over a poorly-paved surface, didnít hear it.
"Where are we going?" George asked the question with a flat tone that indicated he was too dazed to really care.
"To your place," answered Phillip, "Youíll have to clear out everything that matters to you. After tonight, you wonít be able to go back there, George. Iím sorry."
The Author chooses to remain anonymous.
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