Rory Jakalya pitchman for the Late-Night Products stood in front of EE's desk. "I propose a tale of the future told by those who lived through it. Some day in the future, historians will report what today seems inconsequential and on an equally inconsequential day and in the future -- say fifty, one hundred or more years -- the event will reach such proportions that sphincters will tighten like steel vices, hard enough to make diamonds."
"That a little vague," EE said.
"Readers are used to novels beginning with big events; murders, car wrecks, breaking ups. Stuff like that. But in reality, history is never that obvious, that certain."
"True, most historical novels begin with a significant historical event."
"A man is born like any other man. Usually, the father leaves or the mother dies. Heroes are always born poor, disadvantaged orphans. What beginning could be more banal, more prosaic? Years later, we find the child become man become leader. Babies are held up for him to kiss, men defer to his judgment and a nation marches to war. His scion will be the one to devastate the world with fearsome weapons."
"So what's your pitch?"
"I propose the following: You finance my life, my son's life and his son's life and I'll make sure that we research a famous figure who fits the bill. Then my grandkid, who we will make sure is a great writer, can write a bestselling history with my son's and my notes. Think of it as a long-term investment for your grandchildren."
"That's one of the most original pitches that I've ever heard."
"Well, will you do it? Huh? Huh?"
"I can only trade you some investment property in Brooklyn," EE smiled and twiddled his muttonchops.
"It's a deal." Rory extended his hand.