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The Pools of Solomon
The Pools of Solomon
The Pools of Solomon
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The Pools of Solomon

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A child of science and logic grows up believing in his ability to persuade and improve peoples’ lives. Philosophies collide when he is lured by love to the center of a conflict in the Holy land. Though he is agnostic, he comes to be thought of as a prophet by those who witness his unwavering dedication to his patients regardless of their religion.

A.T. Peterson has been recognized by the Minneapolis Star Tribune for his lyrics and song writing while working with the band SOMA and continues writing for his solo musical projects. His compositions have a strong basis in lyrical content and word play which comes through in this page turning debut novel.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 10, 2014
ISBN9781483410333
The Pools of Solomon

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    The Pools of Solomon - A.T. Peterson

    THE POOLS OF

    SOLOMON

    A.T. PETERSON

    Copyright © 2014 A.T. PETERSON.

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

    ISBN: 978-1-4834-1034-0 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4834-1033-3 (e)

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 4/8/2014

    CONTENTS

    Chapter 1

    Chapter 2

    Chapter 3

    Chapter 4

    Chapter 5

    Chapter 6

    Chapter 7

    Chapter 8

    Chapter 9

    Chapter 10

    Chapter 11

    Chapter 12

    Chapter 13

    Chapter 14

    Chapter 15

    To Sharon

    CHAPTER 1

    T HORNTON KLEIN HAD ALWAYS HAD a scientific mind. Even as a child growing up in a poor suburb of Fort Smith, Arkansas, he was keenly aware of his ability to analyze his environment and navigate accordingly. The product of an unplanned pregnancy to a teenage mother, he was raised mostly by his Aunt Mary, in a trailer park community, where he quickly adapted to a life of hostility rooted in generations of poverty and abuse. Alcoholism, drug abuse, physical, mental, and sexual, it was all there. Attributes passed on by a dysfunctional society that had lost hope and turned on itself. Thornton recognized this very early on, and studied carefully what made people behave this way out of necessity for his own survival.

    By late summer of 1980, Thornton was entering seventh grade, and could see a rapid change happening in all of his classmates. He learned which kids he needed to avoid, and which kids it would be beneficial to befriend to maximize his chances of getting out in one piece. For the most part, he thought of the bullies as slow-witted conduits of abuse received, and then passed along like dogs trained for fighting. Some could be reformed, while others were beyond help. He quickly learned to spot the conditions that could lead to an unprovoked assault, like the presence of a pretty girl inducing a primitive response from one of these less-evolved children. He believed they must have instinctively thought that to catch her eye they must a show their superior strength, but this requires a victim, which on more than one occasion turned out to be him.

    Back at Aunt Mary’s trailer, Thornton could enjoy two things; relative safety, and the knowledge of a better life outside of this place through his window of the world, Television. It was through countless hours of TV and books that he learned about the family unit, in everything from sitcoms to documentaries, always with an acute fascination for social order. It didn’t matter if it was a nature program about the behavior of a troop of apes, a news story exposing religious cults, or a history lesson on war, he was always amazed at the way people communed with likeminded, to establish an order or hierarchy which still others would follow completely and faithfully, sometimes, even to their deaths.

    He was intuitively able to spot propaganda and the tools of manipulation, no matter how subtle. Thornton fully understood that the basis of this interest stemmed from having witnessed people around him transform from open-minded children into adult racists and homophobes, or into possessing a violent reaction to anyone who was different. Aware of his unique ability, he kept his friends and relations at a safe distance. Aunt Mary might have thought his detachment a sign of a mental disorder in need of some type of professional help were it not for his perfect straight-A grades, which he seemed to achieve without effort.

    This too was another reason to be singled out and ostracized by the frustrated classmates who were growing up emulating the behavior of their fathers before them, in a game they like to play called beat the geek. Thornton knew from watching various TV shows about happy families who resolved their minor bumps in the road just before the final fade to black and credits roll, that there was a better life beyond this current situation. He saw how the fictional family unit all lived in a big, happy, beautiful house which they had legally acquired with the money Father earned at his professional occupation; an occupation (that Thornton understood) required a college degree. These fictional characters were all the mentors Thornton had, but they were all he needed. His ticket out of this would have to come from scholarships and academic recognition if he were to pursue this field of study on a greater scale.

    One day while walking home from the library, he came upon a group of kids who had encircled a young boy on a bicycle. From the posturing and body language, Thornton could see this wasn’t going to end well for the kid wearing a Buffalo Bills jacket and seated atop his new Huffy dirt bike. Even at some distance, Thornton recognized everyone present from school, and immediately started to formulate tactics to defuse the violence that would no doubt soon take place.

    The boy in the Bills jacket was David Bauer, the new kid at school, a recent transplant from a blue collar family that lived closer to Pittsburg than Buffalo, though his loyalties resided with his father’s favorite team, and the town where he had been raised. His dad had always told him to wear your colors with pride, and David wore his favorite coat almost everywhere.

    David’s parents held on as long as they could to the dwindling employment of the former industrial center, but now due to foreign competition, grudgingly recognized they had to make other plans. The new bike was a parting gift his guilt-ridden father had purchased before leaving him with his grandparents until he could find work.

    Thornton felt sympathy for the boy because, like him, David needed to stay with relatives until his mom and dad could get back on their feet. Also clearly visible was the alpha bully, Wesley Conners. Thornton was especially fascinated by him, as he possessed all of the attributes of a serial bully, actively passing on the cycle of abuse to anyone or anything in view. Wesley’s misguided rage didn’t need a reason to single out a victim, but in this situation Thornton recognized three.

    First, David was the new kid and that made him different, - different clothes, different accent, and a different perspective. Second, a new bike, which through the eyes of Wesley Conners was a flaunting of affluence that Wesley never had. And third, Wesley had an audience. This was by far the most dangerous aspect of the situation. Were it not for his identifying with the new kid Thornton might have stayed at a safe distance and let the events unfold, like a technician watching a lab experiment.

    As Thornton quickened his pace to close the distance, he considered yelling to Wesley that his dad was looking for him, but everyone knew that Wesley’s dad was usually passed out by this time of day, so that tactic wouldn’t work. Then he thought he would make up a story that Wesley’s Rottweiler had gotten loose again, but it was too late. Wesley had pushed the boy off of his bike, and was now being cheered on by his crew of aimless followers. Thornton ran toward the group without any rational plan that would have a chance of stopping what had begun. He arrived just as Wesley straddled his victim and began raining down punches with such ferocity that all Thornton could do was tackle him in an attempt to halt the punishment. For a brief moment, as the two lay splayed out on the ground, Wesley and Thornton stared at each other in disbelief, while David rolled onto his side and curled into a fetal position with his face in the grass.

    Thornton knew that his words would be futile, but gave it his best shot, and as the two got to their feet, he pleaded with Wesley, I don’t want to fight with you. I’m trying to help you and keep you from going to juvie or be taken away. Even if his words could have given the Conner boy pause, Thornton understood he was going to pay for his actions because he challenged Wesley in front of an audience, and for that he would most certainly be made an example of. I was trying to help you, Wesley! Thornton repeated, just before he saw a bright flash and felt Wesley’s fist make contact with his eye socket.

    When Thornton woke up, the first thing he tried to do was to take a breath, and in doing so experienced excruciating pain. He attempted to open his eyes, but his left eye was swollen closed completely, and through the blur of tears and blood he could make out a partial and twisted bike frame hanging from one of branches, with other pieces scattered around in the grass. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but Wesley and crew were gone, and David was sitting under the tree, staring blankly ahead.

    Now Thornton had to figure out how he would explain his condition to Aunt Mary, and resolve the problem of his new enemy, who would no doubt make this beating the first of many. He hobbled over to David and asked if he was okay, but David said nothing. He had no idea what Thornton had done to save him, and didn’t trust anyone from this strange new place as he sat crouched, still in shock from the unprovoked attack.

    Carefully lifting his own T-shirt, Thornton saw what he knew to be the mark of a shoe imprint on his lower ribcage, but given his offense to Wesley’s machismo, believed he got off lucky. There were still a couple weeks left of the summer break from school, which spared Thornton the humiliation of having to answer the same question over and over, What happened to you?

    Aunt Mary wasn’t home a lot as her time was divided between two jobs, one at a tool and die factory, and a second as a cocktail waitress at the Wagon Wheel Bar and Grill. By the time she saw Thornton’s bruised face, it was well on the mend and he could explain it away as an accident while playing dodge ball. Unsure as to whether she believed him he added, The kid I ran into looks the same way.

    Keeping a low profile, Thornton spent all of his time trying to devise a plan to, (as he saw it), treat Wesley. He knew that when Wesley’s dad was drunk he became very angry and irrational, and would lash out at anyone. With that in mind, Thornton never went near their trailer, but decided that if the opportunity presented itself, he would engage Wesley, one on one in conversation. The question, he thought was, How do I do that without experiencing Round two?"

    He came up with the idea of flattering Wesley on his physical strength, and asking him for help with a fictitious bully. In exchange, he would do Wesley’s homework and, as Thornton knew, spare Wesley the beatings at the hands of his father that came with every report card.

    For Thornton, this arrangement had two benefits. First, if he could pull this off, he could avoid further violence from Wesley and other bullies, as he could now, paradoxically use his new adversary for protection. And second, by opening a dialogue, he could then test his ability to correct the pattern of dysfunction should Wesley someday have kids of his own, potentially passing on the cycle of abuse.

    The opportunity finally came when Thornton saw Wesley walking through the trailer park carrying a dog leash and calling for his Rottweiler, Chompers, a name the animal earned early on for the way it dealt with being confined and frustrated. Chompers would chew up anything, and made escape his full-time occupation. By this time Thornton’s face was almost completely healed, and he used the opening to approach Wesley and say, I’ll help you find your dog. Wesley turned and stared back at him for a moment with the same look of disbelief he had when Thornton had tackled him. After an awkward silence, Wesley asked, Have you seen him?

    Thornton said, No, but I can guess where he is. Like almost all dogs of Chomper’s advanced age, they are usually guided by one motivation, food, and the dumpster behind the Wagon Wheel Bar and Grill was a banquet of greasy bar waste. Fridays were all you can eat chicken wings, and the aroma carried on the wind for miles. As they walked together, Thornton began to practice his craft by saying, Yeah, we use to have a dog just like Chompers when I lived in Minnesota. This was a lie, but he wanted to bond with Wesley and ease him into this uncomfortable relationship. Thornton knew it was best not to bring up the earlier incident until Wesley was ready to talk about it.

    To avoid another awkward silence, Thornton went on to say, Yeah, old Rex was a real escape artist too. He immediately thought, Rex? Is that the best I could do? But he knew this was good because although Wesley wasn’t talking to him, he wasn’t beating on him either, and they continued walking.

    In an effort to keep the dialogue going, Thornton asked, Have you ever been approached by Coach Sanders to join the football team? I would think with your size and strength he would be bugging you all the time. Then Thornton worried that maybe he was laying it on too thick or worse, Wesley had been held back a year or two.

    But Wesley candidly admitted, My grades are too low to join any sports.

    With that Thornton knew he had broken through, because Wesley had created the perfect segue for his plan to swap homework for peace. By now they were almost to the Wagon Wheel, and they could plainly see Chompers, true to form, with his head buried in some greasy basket liners that he had pulled free from the dumpster. As Wesley bent down to slip the leash around Chomper’s neck, Thornton noticed odd contusions that ran the length of large boy’s arms and tried to imagine what kind of activity could bruise someone that way. With the dog secure, Wesley breathed a giant sigh of relief because he knew that if he had not recovered Chompers; his father would certainly have blamed him for the dog getting loose.

    Thornton decided now was the time to ask Wesley if he wanted any help with his school work, and after making his pitch, quickly followed up by saying, I love doing school work. He considered how stupid that sounded, as Wesley just stared at him for a moment and said, Thanks for helping me find my dog. Then turned and walked away.

    With the boy and dog fading from view, Thornton assessed his efforts and concluded that aside from a couple of weird statements on his part, it was an overall success in moving toward his objective of befriending a very unfriendly person.

    While riding the bus on the first day back to school, the two boys made eye contact briefly, but Wesley wasn’t ready to be old chums with Thornton, especially in the presence all the other kids, a few of whom had been part of his entourage the day of the fight. Thornton understood this and knew that if he could catch Wesley alone, he could remind him of his offer. Although they rode the same bus every day, Wesley never made any effort to acknowledge Thornton during the daily commute but instead sat near the back surrounded by his cronies.

    Three weeks had passed when Thornton was surprised to see Wesley limping in his direction. Taking a seat next to him the large boy stared straight ahead silently for a few minutes, then said, I think I could use some help with math.

    Thornton was careful not to appear too happy about this admission, because he could see this was not an easy thing for Wesley to say. They each had the same math class, taught by the same teacher, Mrs. Michaels, but at different hours. Thornton knew that at this point in the year, if Mrs. Michaels was concerned about a student, she would phone the parents to help ready the pupil for upcoming tests. Knowing this and Wesley’s father, Thornton immediately understood the limp. He decided to take advantage of the situation and tell Wesley, I will gladly help you with math or any other subject, but I would like to do it at your house.

    Wesley squinted in confusion and said, Okay, but why at my house?

    Thornton, always quick on his feet said, "I can’t bring friends back to Aunt Mary’s trailer, and she can’t reach me at the library. Neither of these statements were true, but Wesley agreed to the conditions, and they made plans to study at his house the following evening.

    The next day as agreed, Thornton arrived at Wesley’s and found him feeding and watering Chompers. This was an important task because if Wesley didn’t do it, it didn’t get done, and if he wasn’t fed soon enough, Chompers would start to howl. This would cause the neighbors to complain, provoking Mr. Conners to take out his drunken rage out on dog and boy alike. Wesley was clearly embarrassed to let Thornton see the inside of his trailer, especially to walk by his passed-out father in the living room, but this was exactly what Thornton wanted to see.

    Following Wesley inside, he carefully scanned the room until his eyes settled on what he was looking for, - a walking cane leaning on the side of the couch. The two boys went to work on math lessons to prepare for the upcoming test. Eventually, Mr. Conners woke up, saw the unfamiliar face of Thornton and said, Who the hell are you?

    Wesley answered, He’s my friend, Thor, and he’s helping me with math.

    Well lots of luck with that. Mr. Conners said, and as he rolled over on his side to go back to sleep, Thornton could hear him mumble, Gonna take a miracle worker to pull that off.

    The lesson went on and Thornton learned that Wesley was not as dumb as he thought, and his apparent lack of interest in school was mostly due to a need to be seen as too cool for studying. A plan was coming together so Thornton decided to schedule the next lesson for Saturday morning in hopes of catching Mr. Conners awake and sober for another experiment.

    Saturday arrived and Thornton showed up just in time to see Mr. Conners lower himself into a lawn chair in the front yard and crack the first beer of the morning. As Thornton entered onto the property, Mr. Conners looked up at him with a surprised expression and said, What the fuck do you want?

    Thornton said, I’m here to help Wesley with his math.

    Mr. Conners thought for a while and said, Oh yeah? Maybe you can part the Red Sea too. Then he yelled, Wesley, get the fuck out here!

    But Wesley didn’t answer, and Mr. Conners huffed in aggravation. When he grabbed his cane to get up Thornton saw Chompers cower and scurry to the far corner of his pen with a terrified look in his eyes.

    Just as Mr. Conners hobbled to the door, Wesley appeared. Mr. Conners pointed the end of the cane in Wesley’s face and said, goddammit boy, you come when I call you. He drew the cane back as if to ready a backhanded swing. Wesley winced, but the blow was not delivered.

    Then he fearfully explained, I was in the bathroom.

    Mr. Conners sneered and said, Bring me another beer and feed that fucking dog.

    While Wesley set out for the beer and fed and watered Chompers, Mr. Conners returned his attention back to Thornton demanding to know, Whose kid are you?

    This was the opportunity Thornton had been looking for and he began to tell his fictional, carefully-planned story. Using the most innocent and naïve tone he could, Thornton replied, I’m staying here with my Aunt Mary until my mom gets better. I had to move in with her when my dad went to jail after the teachers at school saw some bruises on me. Mom says dad had problems managing his anger, and that it would be best to move down here until the reporters stopped coming over to take pictures of our family. The people who said they were from social services told me that if I had any relatives to stay with, I wouldn’t have to go with them.

    Thornton then looked directly into Mr. Conner’s eyes to measure the weight of his words, and saw a dumbfounded old man leaning heavily on a cane with his mouth hanging open, staring back at him. Confident he had successfully delivered the message, Thornton cheerfully called out, Hey Wes, wanna study in the park? Wesley closed the door on Chomper’s pen and said, Sure, before the two set off, leaving Mr. Conners standing by his chair still stunned and speechless.

    As Thornton walked away with Wesley in tow, he felt that he was mastering this talent, and wondered if anyone could see through it. Even as he drew immense satisfaction at the sight of a visibly shaken abuser, he knew the real measure would come from observing Wesley in the weeks and months to come. Although it required some dishonesty on his part, he never thought of this new-found ability as a bad thing as long as it was used to make life better.

    After a couple more weeks passed, Wesley’s grades had improved considerably, and Thornton didn’t see any more bruises. He kept up his friendship with Wesley, and by the end of the year, people were taking notice of the change in him, including the football coach, who asked Wesley if he would consider trying out for the team next year. Wesley was no longer punishing innocent kids to get attention and misplaced admiration, but he still wasn’t ready to be seen as a jock.

    During this time Thornton had made a point of getting to know David Bauer and perhaps coax him and Wes to get to know each other. He made sure to be seated near David in art class, and easily made his way into David’s favor by complimenting him on what a great football team the Bills were. Thornton took the time to do some research before attempting this in order to avoid being seen as just patronizing. With his gift for memorizing stats and data, he amazed David with his seemingly vast knowledge of all things Bills. The two hit it off well, and Thornton was careful not to bring up the incident with Wesley until he felt he could minimize the awkwardness of the subject.

    After developing a solid friendship with David, Thornton considered aloud the way we fuse our loyalties to a team when the people who play on those teams are rarely from that state, ever went to a college in that state, or would even be on that team next year. Thornton went on to say, It’s almost like the jersey they wear is a flag to which we swear allegiance. Then he would again watch closely to see how his words affected his subject, and with David he could see he touched a nerve, so he quickly backed off. Again after inducing a daydream of intense thought, he flippantly would change the subject as if his last sentence spoken was just an offhanded random thought. But very little of anything Thornton Klein ever said was offhanded or random.

    Thornton learned he could overstep his place and give away his position as a subtle manipulator when he turned in a report that got him pulled aside by Mr. Strand, his social studies teacher. The report was on a subject of the student’s choosing, and Thornton decided to write his on the contrast between nationalism vs. patriotism, which after reading, left Mr. Strand wondering if this was a plagiarized college thesis, or the work of a student ready to skip high school altogether. As Mr. Strand questioned him, Thornton realized that he would have to tone it down some so as not to be recognized in a way that might cause him to be removed from his experiment. He was too invested, and from now on he would do work that was good enough to earn an A, but no more than that.

    In the days that followed he would frequently catch Mr. Strand staring at him during class, awestruck, and wondering if this kid was just playing with him. For Thornton, pretending to be less mature took great effort, as it went against who he really was. He delighted in people not understanding what was happening as he singlehandedly changed their behavior, humbling arrogant kids, and building up the less secure.

    By now Thornton had developed where he stood on the subject of religion. He was agnostic and did not believe in good and evil, but rather in motivation, and that, with the exception of mental illness, people do good things and bad things depending on what motivates them. All he had to do was channel and control the motivations. He would listen to the television evangelists and conclude that they used evil as a scapegoat for poor judgment or greed. Thornton believed that sins of the flesh were a form of greed, as was physical abuse, because the motivation was forced obedience. The greed motive was a desire for others to behave the way the abuser wanted.

    To Thornton, conjuring up imaginary spirits for the purpose of blame was a sad and pathetic method of denying one’s own responsibility. As he saw it, there was no greater example of manipulation than a preacher he was watching on TV. First he was using fear to motivate vulnerable people to give him money, while encouraging them to tell their own friends and relations about the joy of being saved as a result of joining his congregation. Then he would have the audacity to say that only through the teachings of his church, followers would learn to use the moral compass only he could provide.

    Thornton was a student of human nature, and to him it wasn’t far removed from the conduct of wild animals. In the wild, the predators weed out the sick and the lame, and here he witnessed the same actions everywhere he looked. But this he concluded was human nature, and it was he that would have to adapt and navigate this cruel environment. He understood the futility of challenging the establishment head on. It would take a far more nuanced approach than that. He thought about the way his earlier teachers would tell the kids to, Play fair and in doing so, render them completely unprepared for the reality to come.

    One day at the library he discovered a book on Game Theory by John Forbes Nash, and concluded that this was what he would devote his life to studying. The theme of this work was how people would always do what was in their own immediate self-interest, even to the long-term detriment of themselves and others. Playing fair was not natural human behavior and Thornton would spend hours thinking about fairness, finding thought provoking examples everywhere he looked. He recalled seeing a local townie (who had lost his job when the factory he worked at moved overseas) negotiating with a police officer in an attempt to avoid a ticket for expired license tabs. He thought about how this man could not afford to buy the tabs, so he was being financially penalized for his lack of money. In a further irony, he might avoid this ticket if he offered the policeman a bribe which would require money that he didn’t have. Thornton observed that with money comes power and influence that one could use to lobby politicians to facilitate or prevent companies from moving overseas.

    Each member of this one simple scenario had his own personal motivation, to the detriment of the society as a whole. Had the company stayed, the man could afford his tabs and the community would have collected more tax revenue from of business owner and his employees, which might afford the policeman a higher salary, which might make him less likely to accept bribes. But the politician needs the campaign contribution from the wealthy factory owner who, in return, wants to move his company overseas to make more money for himself. The politician then facilitates the factory move and uses the cash infusion to be reelected to preside over a now jobless and desperate corruption-prone community. Fairness is an ideal that one can strive for but can never achieve when human nature will always bend toward the immediate enrichment of the self.

    Thornton would spend hours in the library studying historical figures who honed their powers of persuasion over masses of people. He was fascinated by both good and bad world leaders, and the tools they used to gain power. He wanted to know everything he could about them. The speeches they gave, the body language they used, and what they were appealing to that would cause so many to follow them. People like Niccolo Machiavelli, Adolf Hitler, or Mahatma Gandhi, and numerous religious prophets. He wanted to know what made them so influential. While other kids his age were studying how to pull off cool tricks on their skateboards or meet girls, Thornton was studying world conquest. He tried to do this type of study at the library because if he

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