Wild Fiction

‘But why would somebody want to believe in life after death? Why would a perfectly rational person be prepared to believe in soft magic, eternal life? Simple: They’re afraid that when they die, they’ll no longer exist. That it’ll be “player one game over” and that’s the end. They want to believe that their loved ones that they’ve already lost are now living in utopia, all pains and ills cured and that when they die they will join them there.
‘What could be easier to sell to a grieving mother than the promise that she’ll see her dead son again, once she dies. And what does she have to do to see her son again? Follow the rules and the rules aren’t that difficult and the cost in the Sunday collection isn’t that expensive. Of course, the more you put in, the more likely you are to see him.’
‘You’re a cynical old man,’ Genevieve said to him. ‘We’re not here to listen to your anti-religion propaganda. We don’t care about religion. If real people are stupid enough to believe in a religion, then let them wallow in it. We’re fictional, we’re in a best seller and we’re going to live forever in the minds of the readers.’
The author nodded and rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and pressed his fingertips together in front of him.
‘We have one question for you though,’ Rebecca said fidgeting with her fingers.
Genevieve nodded in agreement and swallowed. ‘We want you to answer the question immediately and answer it truthfully. Please promise us that you won’t lie.’
‘I can’t make rash promises like that. What if it’s a question I can’t answer? What if it’s an impossible question?’
‘This isn’t a trick question. I guarantee you know the answer to this question and it’s in your capacity to answer it correctly. Just promise us that you’ll tell the truth.’ Rebecca was still fidgeting with her hands.
‘Okay, okay, I promise to tell the truth and nothing but the truth,’ the author let out a little laugh. ‘What’s so serious that it requires such pre-emptive questioning? What are you setting me up for?’
Rebecca took her eyes off the author and looked at Genevieve. Genevieve nodded at her and she turned to face the author.
‘Are you a fictional?’ Rebecca asked.
‘No,’ the author said without hesitating. It was almost as if he had anticipated the question. There was a moment of silence.
Rebecca stared at him. ‘How can we trust you?’ she asked.
The author smiled and ignored her question. He wrote the last word and put a full stop after it.
[THE END - REALLY]