"Your teacher's teacher's teacher died in that world...?"
"No. He came back."
"Oh."
Annan had thought the story would end with the Ancient Wizard's death.
They walked toward the Theater. A long line stretched across the Square ahead, with many parents leading children by the hand.
Annan had invented Magic Films, true, but their imitators deserved much of the credit for making them popular.
"Made by Annan means quality" had become a familiar saying, but people still preferred adaptations: The Seventh Night, A Sorcerer's Life, even Law Breaks the Sky. Those stories had existed before their Magic Films.
And after three films in a row without Annan as the lead, the biggest draw was gone. Excellent production was all they had left—but the Bert Brothers' adaptations were just as polished. Annan was still out in front, with the Bert Brothers chasing close enough to give him a tap on the backside now and then.
The Truman Show was the exception. Not because its premise was better than Betar's Redemption, or because it was more profound than those famous works, but because it had something no adaptation did: a light touch and the power to make people laugh.
After all, the literary works they adapted weren't exactly funny.
They couldn't very well film a collection of jokes, could they?
The Truman Show filled that gap. Its breezy, cheerful tone and its leading man's comical antics made it perfect for the whole family. Children laughed at Truman; adults saw themselves in him.
Once people realized that, they said with a touch of envy that, judging by his talent for making money alone, calling Annan the Goddess of Wealth's illegitimate son would hardly be an exaggeration.
While the imitators were still wondering which book to adapt to draw more people into the Theater,