The Maltese Manuscript (LSD, #6)

11. Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Sunday, Bloody Sunday

There's an old Arab saying: the only shortcoming of a man is an empty pocket. With the money that Malik received for the exclusive interview, our shortcomings have disappeared: we can disappear again. We find a nice bed-and-breakfast where we can leave our luggage and pay in cash, no questions asked. Just around the corner, we find a place where we can rent our best disguise so far, although Malik has his doubts: "Why do we dress up as Chicken Chucky and French Fries Fritz?"

"Because it's not a good idea to dress up as Santa Claus in February, Malik. We need a second opinion, and this is the perfect outfit for it."

Malik doesn't get it: "A second opinion? Did I miss something?"

I search for my spiPhone under my Chicken Chucky suit: "I have a problem with Khalid. You are convinced he's bad, but I'm not so sure. Before we decide if we're going to kill him or not, I want a second opinion. And who can give us the best opinion about Khalid El Bullít?"

"Evidentially, I don't have a clue."

I stop, surprised (although it's hard to «Show, Don't Tell» with my face hidden inside Chicken Chucky's neck): "Malik! You're a novel writer. You know every good action thriller keeps the story interesting until the end, because there's always one last clue that solves the mystery, and for every reader, this clue should hide in the open. Good fiction works like that because real life works like that; if you want real life to have a happy ending, pay attention to all the details, investigate every option, and work as hard as you can to get the best solution for the problems that stand between you and happiness ever after."

Malik doesn't agree: "Fiction is fiction. Real life is a completely different story."

"Look at real life like it is right now: a Californian fried chicken and a bag of French fries are discussing if the world's most dangerous criminal is good or bad. Did you ever read a fiction story more crazy than this? Of course, fiction differs from real life. If fiction was as crazy as real life, not one reader would believe it. Do you remember our little chat about Big Question #2, Truth or Dare? We agreed. Truth was the path to follow. Trust, respect and commitment might take longer than violence and deceit, but Truth is the only road to real-life happiness. Unfortunately, when I tried to get you to look at yourself and your own part of writing fiction in our real-life story, our discussion stranded like the Black Pearl in Davy Jones's kingdom. Do you remember?"

"I do. Additionally, I told you I prefer to sell millions of action thrillers and give up poetry. Action thrillers always have a happy ending. When the protagonist triumphs, it gives every reader the glorious feeling that a civilised person stands a chance against the savages in society. Illegally, is killing bad boys against the rules?"

"The 'rules' are: trust, respect and commitment. Action thrillers teach us Poetic Justice. Writers present us unrealistic characters in unrealistic situations. When the most beautiful character kills the ugly one in the final fight, we consider it a happy ending. Did Allah teach you that wisdom? Did killing his brother Abel turn Cain into a hero? For thousands of years, writers of fiction try to convince their readers that violent behaviour pays off, that beautiful people always have a good character, and that Good always wins in the battle against Evil. You, writers, are notorious liars. And you get paid for it.

» Poetic Justice is a lie. You believe in a lie, Malik. You believe so much in the wrath of Poetic Justice that you became an infidel of Allah's story of love. Poetic Justice is a false God, invented by fiction writers who preach lies and violence for their own financial benefit. In real life, the profit doesn't go to the one who works hard, but to the shareholder who owns the company and does nothing. In real life, it's not the peaceful country that wins the war; it's the most aggressive one that spends all the tax money on the military instead of using it to take care of the sick, the poor and the old. In real life, it's only the most selfish and greedy person who becomes a millionaire.