Being an editor of a small publishing house in the 28th century has its challenges. Most days it’s a mundane existence. Same old dribble, plot, characters – time in, time out. Ours, one of the few establishments still producing paper-based manuscripts was targeted by every struggling impresario of the written arts.
Chance, that intangible which happens to all, deposited on a dreary Friday afternoon a quiet gray-haired man on the other side of the senior editor’s desk – the senior editor being me. He unloaded a parcel on my desk and said, “Consider this.” It was wrapped in newspaper clippings from the early 24th century. A collector, I thought. “Yeah, OK”, I muttered and went back to my work. He left as quietly as he had entered.
Having avoided the dusty bundle for three weeks, I picked up the crumpled manuscript one dismal and dark morning. Rain and wet snow pelted the windows of my office. I decided to open the volume in the middle – fully expecting another deep-space romance or an end-of-the-earth thriller. As I glanced over the text of this book, the language surprised me. Simple words, strange English, oddly arranged and yet …
Scanning the narrative, I found the words compelling. The author was confronting the deep issues of man – no flighty romance here! He spoke with authority and bold assurance. Apprehensively I flipped ahead.
I found a section on financial matters. Was there no limit to the scope of this text? And yet no one had ever given me the bold advice presented here in a matter of paragraphs. Could this advice actually work?
I skipped ahead – thinking what every small-time editor thinks: “Could this be the one?” I was overwhelmed by the audacity of this unknown author. How could he profess to be an expert in every major issue concerning man? And then I saw a few phrases that brought my journey to an abrupt halt.
The words were clear but seemed unbelievable. How could an author who had already addressed peace, finances, death, disease, the ancient ritual of marriage, love, and hope broach perhaps the most vital subject of all – perpetual life! It seemed absurd. Could it all be right?
I jumped up from my chair, the manuscript clutched in my hand. “Find the author!” I thought. Frantic, I flipped to the front of the book hunting for the author’s universal connect number and ID. I realized that I hadn’t even seen the title of this incredible work. I managed to locate the tattered and faded front page – clearly a project of many years. I was shocked to not find the author’s details. Stranger still were the title and inscription:
HOLY BIBLE
John 8:32
“And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”
I knew I had a winner.