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SynopsisTHE ORIGINATORS – a novel
                    by Charles Schwartz
 
THE MIGHTY FORCE
the soul, perhaps, is a gust of gas
and wrong is a form of right-
but we know that Energy equals Mass
by the Square of the Speed of Light.
E=MC
those souls who trade money for gas
who give us words of greed to cite
don’t know that Energy equals Mass
by the Square of the Speed of Light.
 
"A SWEEPING TALE OF HISTORIC SCOPE THAT EXPLORES MAN’S PAST TO SAVE HIS FUTURE…"

I have written a 124,000-word fiction novel called The Originators, a literary drama that explores the frightening truth about Man’s past to save his future. This compelling and intriguing political thriller described by one reviewer as the “Da Vinci Code” for the energy industry, with historic scope and intricate twists right out of Irving Wallace.

______________________ 

Hyim and Leah Hopewell are on their honeymoon in the romantic city of Paris in 1889. In a fit of exuberance, they sneak onto the Eiffel Tower in the middle of the night, just as an electrical storm lights up the city. It's the most romantic night of their young lives.

Hyim, a brilliant young physicist, can't quite explain what happens next. They are attacked by persons unknown. After a short struggle, Leah ends up falling over the railing, a 200-foot drop. The assailant escapes, but somehow, some way, Leah is still alive. As Hyim tries to go over the events in his mind, he eventually comes to the undesirable conclusion that there was more at work than the physics he had been taught in college.

The Hopewells--along with their faithful servant, Li-Don--are soon catapulted into a world of violence and intrigue, where the concepts of friends and enemies have little meaning. Was Leah the target? Or is something more sinister at work? No one can be trusted.

In a time when corporate interests are left unchecked and the industrial revolution is darkening the skies of Western ivilization, Hyim must find the answer to why there are so many people aligned against him. As he comes to understand the tremendous but disorganized campaign to destroy his research, he simultaneously realizes that his family is the most important thing in his life.

In his search for the truth, he finds more than he bargained for as he starts to question his very existence. His answers have implications for all of mankind, but can he save the world from itself?

A curious little box may hold the key.
____________________________________ 
THE ORIGINATORS - a novel 

                          by Charles Schwartz

 

PROLOGUE 

Paris, 1884
Three darkly clad figures stood around an empty field next to the river on the Champ de Mars. The cold was bracing, although the wind had died down since dawn. They paced the field, looking for something that would tell them that this was the right spot.


The tall one looked up at the sky, noting the cumulus clouds that floated past and bumped into each other. He bent down and picked up a handful of dirt, then poured it into a small glass case. He lifted the case full of dirt up over his head into the air. Ten seconds later, a fork of lightning streaked down through the sky and struck the box. The impact made the tall one stumble backward. The glass case glowed a metallic blue, the dirt having been blasted out by the electricity. The other two figures, who had been watching this scene, briefly nodded to each other as the third regained his footing.


A little to the east, German and Austrian engineers tinkered with their gasoline-powered carriages. A little to the west, Americans and recent American immigrants tinkered with their understanding of electricity.

__________
As an intriguing political thriller, this is the story of how greed and violence collide with intricate twists as one man tries to give free and abundant HYDROGEN energy to the world.

Advance praise for The Originators: “fascinating…gripping…a first rate read…”
________

*BOOK DISCOUNTS available through
amazon.com or booksurge.com or alibris.com


Sample Scene

(In which, Chaim asks Leah to leave their Paris hotel at 4 a.m. so that they could ascend the tower before sunrise to watch the sun come up and see the city from high up. They agree to do this, and half way up, Leah falls over a loose safety rail and plunges down toward the ground.)

The honeymooners knew that the Tour Eiffel is over 300 meters tall, but their sense of its scale was derived from the little souvenir models brought home by Chaim’s cousins in Lyons. Even he, with his seemingly vast knowledge on the political rumour-mill that was the Eiffel Tower, could not have guessed the quaint little ditties that were already circulating around the monolith, within months of its completion. Most of them were to attract gullible tourists who fell for strange urban legends.

As they rode along the bumpy cobble-stones in the wee hours of the morning, Chaim tossed some francs at a paperboy. He deftly threw a rolled copy of Le Monde inside the coach. Chaim caught it with his free hand (it was heavier than he thought), the other linked to Leah’s arm as she scanned the bistros and buildings on Rue the Paix. Riding inside in the fog with vision limited to a few meters was a startling experience, everytime. Things revealed themselves suddenly into focus, the fog engulfing everything but a small sphere around you, a traveling sphere with the hazy glow of diffused light on its periphery, with the gray streak of silver when it reflected off the wet stones, betraying its only careless secret. As if someone was watching the young couple in the coach in a crystal ball somewhere.

“Oh Chaim, this is so beautiful.” Leah leaned her head on Chaim’s shoulder. He put an arm around her,” Are you sure you’re not just sleepy? We turned in late after last night’s celebrations.” The light from the swinging lantern fell upon her face and she instinctively closed her eyes. She was sleepy, but trying to take pleasure in the honeymoon despite its inconveniences and momentum. Staring at his wife’s lovely face for a precious moment, Chaim moved his attention to the newspaper. Demonstrations against the tower were continuing, and posters screamed ( in their vowel-abundant French) – “giant, disgraceful skeleton!”, “atheist monstrosity!” and the worst possible adjective of the time – “American”. The tower’s most severe critic, the paper reported, was the writer Guy de Maupassant, who had apparently chosen to eat his lunch almost directly beneath Le Tour Eiffel, with his back turned, because that was the only place in the city where it could not be seen.

The tower is huge, and in a sense, a monster, for it rises from its four legs so sharply in the sky, like a heavenbound rocket, as if it represents the imagination of Jules Verne combined with the ambition of Napoleon Bonaparte. The tower is vacuous, with more air than iron, while weighing 20 million pounds. The experts proudly claim that its average load on the ground is no more than a person sitting on a lawn chair.

“Perhaps Monseiur Eiffel will be gracious enough to show us his private apartment at the top? He is rumoured to entertain many a lady friend there,” Chaim wondered absently, not looking up from the paper. With the gentle rumble of their coach, and few pedestrians around, they came onto a bridge and then a small clearing. In the distance, they could see the four legs of a giant, giant structure that dissapeared in the fog even before it reached the place where the legs met. Do they ever, it seemed, what good is a monster cut off at his waist?

Leah was sitting upright by now, looking anxiously at the tower. “ I don’t think I’d go even if Gustave Eiffel invited us himself. I’ve heard that the top sways in the wind. And in the summer, the sun tilts the tower by its heat. That’s scary, isn’t it?” Chaim knew it too, apart from the fact that it was harmless and hardly felt anywhere except perhaps in Eiffel’s apartment. For a moment Chaim mused at the possibilities these anomalies offered the legendary architect, and what really went on in his penthouse atop the tallest building in the world. The coach halted, it was time for them to disembark.

Chaim paid the coachman a generous tip. He whispered ‘Merci!’ with a faint smile, tipped his hat, and tugged at his horses. Their big, dark nostrils were breathing out smoke.

Although the site would open for visitors in less than two minutes, three people could be already seen at the ticket window. One was an old man in a large greay overcoat, and the other a young boy of about seventeen with his little sister, about seven, holding his hand. The old man was quarreling about something with the ticket-seller, and seemed to be in quite a rush to get inside.

The bell rang and a guard sauntered up to the giant rail and opened a small door, before the gong could strike five. The old man went in first, rudely brushing past the boy, who probably avoided a fight lest he scare his little sister. His anger was quite evident from the expression on his face. Chaim leaned towards the young man and remarked in a friendly tone,” Don’t bother, mon ami, its probably Guy de Maupassant!” However, the humour did not seem affect much cordiality in the young man. The little girl looked up at Leah and smiled.

They all took the elevator to the lowest platform, it being too cold and foggy for the topmost before sunrise. No sign of the old man. The brother and sister moved ahead. Followed by Leah and Chaim, holding hands and walking slowly. In front of them, the city spread out like a lake of glow worms. No, it was more like a galaxy, with some stars brighter than the others, some barely visible to the neaked eye, some so faint that they hung between being and not being. They turned a corner to the eastern side of the platform. It was darker than the rest. Reaching the railing, Leah leaned over to see the millions of lights, the jewels of the night. “It’s so peaceful here.”

In the effort to light a cigarette, Chaim dropped the newspaper under his arm, startling a bunch of pigeons. The resting birds exploded into a noisy riot of wings and feathers.

Chaim bent down to his right to pick up the paper. Behind him, Leah’s bloodcurdling scream tore through the cold Paris sky.


 end of excerpt-


 copyright © charles schwartz 2005

 

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The Originators–a novel
By Charles Schwartz

This novel is available through
amzon.com or booksurge.com or alibris.com
ISBN#: 0974479322
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As a political thriller, The Originators is the story of how greed and violence collide with the reverence for life through the centuries, ever since civilization began.