A book to die for
Nobody knows where the books came from. They just appeared out of nowhere, on every table, bench and desk in the world.
We had books before, but this were different. Scientist called them "works of fiction". Fiction. Just a word they made up for "not real". Who knew such a thing even existed.
This works of fiction were not like ordinary books. When read, they put the reader in a state of trance. Some chemical reactions were happening inside the brain after only reading one sentence, that made you hallucinate. No one could explain what was happening. How could a book have the same effect as an illegal drug?
In the beginning everyone read at least a sentence. Most people threw the book away. But some kept on reading. After the first book related deaths, the government declared them illegal. A police force was tasked with finding all fictional books and confiscating them. That's when the book dealers emerged.
There was a demand and they had the supply. People wanted more and different books. The dealers would usually start you off with a sentence. First try is always free. Forty bucks would get you a page, enough buzz for the day. Chapters were somewhere around 600 and 1000. They were popular at parties. But if by any chance you wanted a whole book, prices began somewhere around 2 million and you had to be referred by someone. That's how rich executives celebrated getting richer.
It's funny that with all that money, nobody was reading from the real deal. No. The clients were reading only xeroxed copies. The effect was watered down, but nobody was clear minded enough to tell the difference. It was a good business practice.
We had books before, but this were different. Scientist called them "works of fiction". Fiction. Just a word they made up for "not real". Who knew such a thing even existed.
This works of fiction were not like ordinary books. When read, they put the reader in a state of trance. Some chemical reactions were happening inside the brain after only reading one sentence, that made you hallucinate. No one could explain what was happening. How could a book have the same effect as an illegal drug?
In the beginning everyone read at least a sentence. Most people threw the book away. But some kept on reading. After the first book related deaths, the government declared them illegal. A police force was tasked with finding all fictional books and confiscating them. That's when the book dealers emerged.
There was a demand and they had the supply. People wanted more and different books. The dealers would usually start you off with a sentence. First try is always free. Forty bucks would get you a page, enough buzz for the day. Chapters were somewhere around 600 and 1000. They were popular at parties. But if by any chance you wanted a whole book, prices began somewhere around 2 million and you had to be referred by someone. That's how rich executives celebrated getting richer.
It's funny that with all that money, nobody was reading from the real deal. No. The clients were reading only xeroxed copies. The effect was watered down, but nobody was clear minded enough to tell the difference. It was a good business practice.
After working a couple of years investigating murders, I was transferred to the fiction division. It was more work, but much more fascinating. Sometimes I think I was the only one happy to be on that task force. Most people were embarrassed to be "book detectives". I didn't care. Bad guys are bad guys and I was going to catch them.
In the middle of the night I was called to visit a crime scene downtown involving a fiction book reader. After arriving there I went to talk to one of the CSIs.
- Who do we have here?
- The victims name is Bianca Nagy. She was 24, lived alone in this apartment and worked at the local hub.
- What exactly happened?
- Bianca's cause of death was most likely overdose. Looks like she read a whole book in one night
- How much was it? 250 pages?
- 645. She never had a chance
- Damn!
Never heard of such thing. 645 pages. Such a waste of a strong brain like that.
- What exactly was she reading?
- American Gods, sir.
- Neil fucking Gaiman. She was high before she finished the first sentence. Dangerous stuff.
- Dangerous as Stephen King?
- Yes, but better. She didn't feel any pain. Bliss all the way. King, on the other hand, will make your heart race and keep you up at night. It would be healthier and safer to sniff cocaine than to read a page of King.
- I'm glad I trew my book away.
- By the way, where is book?
- Right over here. Just finished dusting for fingerprints.
- Let me see it. That's strange.
- What?
- It has a book dealer's stamp on the cover, but it's the real deal. You never see this in the hands of anybody. Not even billionaires.
- Maybe she was a dealer.
- Impossible. They never get high on their own supply. It's bad for business. Send the book the FD lab to get it analysed. This could be the key to shutting down one of the big guys.
- Will do.
- Who do we have here?
- The victims name is Bianca Nagy. She was 24, lived alone in this apartment and worked at the local hub.
- What exactly happened?
- Bianca's cause of death was most likely overdose. Looks like she read a whole book in one night
- How much was it? 250 pages?
- 645. She never had a chance
- Damn!
Never heard of such thing. 645 pages. Such a waste of a strong brain like that.
- What exactly was she reading?
- American Gods, sir.
- Neil fucking Gaiman. She was high before she finished the first sentence. Dangerous stuff.
- Dangerous as Stephen King?
- Yes, but better. She didn't feel any pain. Bliss all the way. King, on the other hand, will make your heart race and keep you up at night. It would be healthier and safer to sniff cocaine than to read a page of King.
- I'm glad I trew my book away.
- By the way, where is book?
- Right over here. Just finished dusting for fingerprints.
- Let me see it. That's strange.
- What?
- It has a book dealer's stamp on the cover, but it's the real deal. You never see this in the hands of anybody. Not even billionaires.
- Maybe she was a dealer.
- Impossible. They never get high on their own supply. It's bad for business. Send the book the FD lab to get it analysed. This could be the key to shutting down one of the big guys.
- Will do.
As it turns out we actually found the fingerprint of an ex-con on one of the pages. It didn't take much to make him talk. Led us straight to the warehouse where every copy was made. It was the biggest bust in recent history. Two billion books. Arthur C Clarke, George R R Martin, Tolstoy, Rowling, King, Gaiman and others more. FD confiscated every book and burned them. It was too dangerous to keep them around.
After that, book dealers started to go down one after another. With the originals gone, the demand for fiction almost disappeared. There were still a couple of small guys selling copies of a copied copy. It didn't have the same effect, but junkies didn't care.
After that, book dealers started to go down one after another. With the originals gone, the demand for fiction almost disappeared. There were still a couple of small guys selling copies of a copied copy. It didn't have the same effect, but junkies didn't care.
A couple of years later I got a tip about some new book on the streets. Apparently it had a stronger effect than the usual stuff. I had to check this out.
I took my car and went down to a well known book house. I should be able to find a familiar face to get more info. The bouncer is new. Shouldn't be hard to get inside.
I'm in. Nobody on the first floor. Let's see what's upstairs. What do we here.
- Hello, Sid. Whatcha doing here?
- Nothing. I swear. What, what are you doing here?
- Is that a book behind you?
- No?
- Sid.
- It's not! I swear! You know I don't do that anymore.
- Sid. Why are lying to me?
- I'm not! I swea
- Don't you lie to me. You know it's not nice to lie to me.
- But
- Look! If you tell me the truth I promise I won't bring you back to the station and you won't spend the night in jail.
- No! No jail!
- No jail, but you have to tell me the truth. Heck, if you help me with something the next page is on me. Deal?
- Ok. It's a book.
- Give it here. Where did you get it?
- Found it.
- Sid.
- I swear. It was next to a dead guy in a back alley.
Looks like he's telling the truth. Something is off with this book. It doesn't look like the other books I've seen. No stamp, no cover art, no title, just "The Writer" written on the side with bood red font. Looks brand new. Even smells new.
- No jail, right?
- Yeah, yeah. Sid, how badly do you want a page?
- No. I don't wa..
- Find out where this page came from and I'll get you a chapter.
- A chap-chapter?
- Only if you find out.
- Okay.
- Good. Here's 20 bucks. Get some food, Sid. Don't spend them on pages. You need to eat.
- Thanks.
- Sid! The money is to eat, not read. By the way, your mother is worried about you. Go visit her. At least for a couple of days.
- ...
- Stay safe, Sid!
I took my car and went down to a well known book house. I should be able to find a familiar face to get more info. The bouncer is new. Shouldn't be hard to get inside.
I'm in. Nobody on the first floor. Let's see what's upstairs. What do we here.
- Hello, Sid. Whatcha doing here?
- Nothing. I swear. What, what are you doing here?
- Is that a book behind you?
- No?
- Sid.
- It's not! I swear! You know I don't do that anymore.
- Sid. Why are lying to me?
- I'm not! I swea
- Don't you lie to me. You know it's not nice to lie to me.
- But
- Look! If you tell me the truth I promise I won't bring you back to the station and you won't spend the night in jail.
- No! No jail!
- No jail, but you have to tell me the truth. Heck, if you help me with something the next page is on me. Deal?
- Ok. It's a book.
- Give it here. Where did you get it?
- Found it.
- Sid.
- I swear. It was next to a dead guy in a back alley.
Looks like he's telling the truth. Something is off with this book. It doesn't look like the other books I've seen. No stamp, no cover art, no title, just "The Writer" written on the side with bood red font. Looks brand new. Even smells new.
- No jail, right?
- Yeah, yeah. Sid, how badly do you want a page?
- No. I don't wa..
- Find out where this page came from and I'll get you a chapter.
- A chap-chapter?
- Only if you find out.
- Okay.
- Good. Here's 20 bucks. Get some food, Sid. Don't spend them on pages. You need to eat.
- Thanks.
- Sid! The money is to eat, not read. By the way, your mother is worried about you. Go visit her. At least for a couple of days.
- ...
- Stay safe, Sid!
A couple of days later, when I returned home from work, I was knocked out cold and woke up tied up to a chair with a light shining right in my face.
- I heard you were asking around about a book.
- Where am I?
- Don't worry. You will be returned home after we have a little chat.
- Who are you?
- Isn't it obvious?
- You're the guy selling "The Writer" books?
- That is half true.
- What do you mean?
- I am The Writer.
- Still don't get it.
- The books I sell did not appear that day. I made the books.
- You wrote fiction?
- Exactly, detective.
- But, that's impossible. Nobody can do that.
- Trust me. It's quite possible.
- How?
- My best guess, it's because I never read any of the original books like everybody else. Not even a word.
- The only way that would be possible is if you couldn't
- See? How perspicacious of you. No wonder you're a detective.
- Why did start writing?
- I'm afraid our little chat has to end. I have more important things to attend to. By the way, your little associate. The one doing your dirty work.
- Associate? Sid! What did you do to him?
- I'm afraid he moved inside a block of cement.
- You bastard! When I get my hands on you, I'll kill you with my bare hands!
- Bye, bye, detective.
- I'll get you for this! I'll kill you! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!!!!
- I heard you were asking around about a book.
- Where am I?
- Don't worry. You will be returned home after we have a little chat.
- Who are you?
- Isn't it obvious?
- You're the guy selling "The Writer" books?
- That is half true.
- What do you mean?
- I am The Writer.
- Still don't get it.
- The books I sell did not appear that day. I made the books.
- You wrote fiction?
- Exactly, detective.
- But, that's impossible. Nobody can do that.
- Trust me. It's quite possible.
- How?
- My best guess, it's because I never read any of the original books like everybody else. Not even a word.
- The only way that would be possible is if you couldn't
- See? How perspicacious of you. No wonder you're a detective.
- Why did start writing?
- I'm afraid our little chat has to end. I have more important things to attend to. By the way, your little associate. The one doing your dirty work.
- Associate? Sid! What did you do to him?
- I'm afraid he moved inside a block of cement.
- You bastard! When I get my hands on you, I'll kill you with my bare hands!
- Bye, bye, detective.
- I'll get you for this! I'll kill you! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!!!!
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