UnBooks:The Solomon Key
The Solomon Key is the working title of a Dan Brown novel that is planned for release no earlier than 2007. It has been released in 2009 under the name "The Lost Symbol" to confuse people into thinking that it is a different book. This will be the third book involving Robert Langdon, a fictional Harvard University professor, and the fifth time that the evil crapness of a Dan Brown book will threaten to lead the entire human race to suicide.
There has, as of yet, been no word if Dan Brown will retire after this book is published, but we can only pray. If Brown decides to persevere with his writing, we may have no other choice than to assassinate him!
There have been a number of educated guesses regarding the content of The Solomon Key. Whilst Dan Brown has offered some hints in interviews, his words have largely been ignored, owing mostly to the fact that any purported "FACTS" coming from Mr. Brown are promptly proven to be complete crap.
Some more reliable sources suggest that the novel's events will take place in Sydney, Australia, and Robert Langdon's exploits will lead him to uncover the Biblical history of the Great Southern Land.
In January 2006, Doubleday Publishing released a ten-chapter sneak preview of The Solomon Key. As many expected, the preview is poorly written, with excruciatingly short chapters and stereotypical, one-dimensional characters. In the style of M. Night Shyamalan, Dan Brown's ego has seemingly become so bloated that he has even written himself into Chapter 9.
Little Billy, an elderly teenager - and a world-reknowned museum curator - was running for his life, clutching onto his laptop,screaming in a loud voice: "Please don't kill me!"
It was past midnight when Robert Langdon's phone rang.
"We need your help", a voice spoke.
"We have found a murdered man in the Sydney Opera House. His laptop was still running, revealing a hateful chatroom debate between the now deceased Little Billy and another man named 'Moses'. We have reason to suspect this 'Moses' committed this gruesome act."
Police Chief Detective Jesus Smith (if you look closely, you can see a historical connection brewing already!) leads Langdon through the abandoned corridors of the opera house. Langdon observes several surveillance cameras on the ceiling.
"Are those fake surveillance cameras?" asks Langdon, somewhat proud of his limited grasp on technology.
"No, they're real," replies Detective Smith. He takes a cigarette out of his pocket, stuffs it in his mouth and, for some strange reason, swallows it. "We just can't be bothered accessing the footage. We'd need a ladder to reach the cameras, and Robbo the janitor locked the equipment closet! Besides, I like the occasional investigatory challenge..."
Langdon shrugs, and continues down the corridor. Unknown to him, however, a dark figure lurks in the shadows behind them, silently stroking a pistol and eating a packet of Doritos.
"Dear Lord!", exclaimed Langdon, when he saw the gruesome murder scene.
Little Billy had been nailed to a cross. Above his head the killer had carved in some words. Robert Langdon approached the dead body. The words were 'SOLOMONKEY".
"What is it that he has stuffed in his mouth?", he asked Jesus Smith.
"American dollar bills soaked in vinegar", replied Smith. "This is why we called you, since you are an authority in religious matters. We are hoping that you will help us."
"Who exactly is this murdered man?", asked Langdon.
"He was a museum curator. Very well liked, I believe. He gave to plenty of charities, was loved by all, and had no enemies at all."
"Then he must have had enemies", pondered Langdon wisely. "We should start with his laptop. There must be valuable clues there".
Jesus Smith almost choked at another cigarette. "But of course, Mr Langdon. How clever of you!"
Detective Smith clicked on Billy's laptop. The desktop background showed a digitally-created photograph of Dan Brown laying dead on the ground, a bullet through his forehead, blood soaking the carpet.
"How ironic..." muttered Langdon to himself.
Smith looked up. "What's ironic?"
Langdon thought for a good three minutes. "I'm not sure. I'd need a dictionary- the word just sounded relevant at the time... It has something to do with Jesus, doesn't it?"
"Of course," agreed Smith. He turned his attention back to the laptop, and clicked open the web browser. It opened immediately to a religion discussion forum. The very final post, from "Moses", read in capital letters. "I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"
"Curious..." muttered Smith. He picked up a blue flashlight and gave it to Langdon. "Shine it on the victim's chest," he instructed. Langdon did so, and gasped. Written across the victim's chest, in bold permanent marker, were the words "MOSES MURDERED ME!!!!"
"Naturally," said Smith. "We don't have any suspects yet, but we're doing our best." He strode across to the body, and indicated the haunting message written on Billy's chest.
"We think that the victim might have been trying to get a message across to us, though we're unsure what it is at the moment. We suspect it is a code. For example, if you were to rearrange the message..."
"Like an anagram!" Langdon exclaimed. "I know that word..."
Smith ignored him, and kept talking. "As I was saying, if you were to rearrange the letters, the message could be translated to "mad, dreamiest sucker!!!!". Perhaps this is a description of his killer."
Smith paused for dramatic effect. He removed another cigarette from his pocket, made to eat it and then changed his mind. He stuck it up his nose, and kept talking. "However, if you rearrange several letters, substitute a few more, and then remove about six, you can come up with "BIG MELONS" which is a PERFECT ANAGRAM of "MEL GIBSON!" I've instructed a team to arrest Mel Gibson at this very moment, and I've given them permission to fire at him if he denies that 'The Passion of the Christ' was crap!"
"Good thinking..." agrees Langdon. "That was the worst-researched film I've ever seen."
"Damn right!" replies Smith, as he takes the flashlight from Langdon. "And what do you make of this?" He ran the flashlight over the carpet next to Billy, revealing words that had been drawn in his blood. "OH FOWL THE MOVIES OF MEL". "Oh no!" cried Langdon. "What?" Smith rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me. That's code for Mel Gibson is actually a bird." "Nope" muttered Langdon with his hand over his mouth. "I'm going to vomit."
Professor Robert Langdon and Detective Jesus Smith stood still and silent for several minutes, waiting anxiously for news from the 'Mel Gibson: Search & Destroy' team.
"So, Mr. Langdon," spoke up Smith suddenly. "What exactly do you do for a living?"
Langdon paused, and thought about it for a while. "Well..." he began tentatively. "For the last six years I've been telling people I'm a symbologist at Harvard, but that's not even a real profession. Truth be told, it's all a load of crap!"
Smith nodded knowingly. "Yes. I'm guilty of a similar thing. I've been telling people for the last two days that I am a police detective, but I'm really just a homeless guy that the Police Department hauled out of a gutter... they're low in numbers at present..."
Suddenly the radio crackled. Langdon and Smith listened in anxiously. "We got to Gibson's residence," announced a voice.
"What happened?" screamed Smith into the receiver. "Did he admit that all his films are overrated?!"
There was a pause on the line. "No," replied the voice. "He kept going on about how he was God. We couldn't get him to shut up about it. We had to shoot him."
It was a good compromise, and Smith congratulated his team. He turned off the radio and turned to Langdon, "I think that, with a bit of evidence-planting, we can pin this whole debacle on the late Mr. Mel Gibson. Would you join me for a drink, Mr. Langdon?"
Langdon opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly a figure sprang out from the shadows. Langdon gasped as a pair of withered, gnarly hands lunged for his throat!
Det. Jesus Smith fired a shot at the cloaked attacker, but missed, and the bullet instead hit the laptop.
Langdon croaked: "Help! He's strangling me, do something!"
Smith picked up the laptop, and lunged for the attacker, repeatedly smahing his head. The cloaked figure finally gave in and fell down on the floor.
Langdon massaged his throat for a few minutes, gained composure and said:
"That was damn close. Now go and get me some water, so that we can revive him and question him".
Smith made way to the restroom, where he found Robbo's bucket. He promply filled it with water, and ran back.
Langdon snatched the waterfilled bucket from Smith, and proceeded to pour the contents on the unconscious cloaked figure. The water suddenly turned red.
"What have you done, fool?", yelled the now irritated Langdon. "I told you to get water, and you brought me a bucket with blood!"
Det. Smith put a finger on the red fluid and tasted it. "This is not blood, mate, this is wine!" he exclaimed. "In my opinion we shouldn't waste it. Let's drink and get merry!"
"Mary who?" asked Langdon, looking confused. "Mary Magdalene - the pop singer?!"
"MERRY! Drunk, intoxicated. Don't you understand English?"
Langdon had a sip. "This is 'Margaux' 1965! Bless you, Jesus!"
Suddenly a weak voice behind them whispered. Both men turned around in astonishment, when the crucified Little Billy spoke in a weak voice. "I'm not dead yet, you drooling clowns! Are you trying for the Nobel Prize in stupidity? Haven't you learned to check for a pulse, morons?"
The two men stared in disbelief at Billy.
"Try harder next time, you pathetic idiots! Now get me down from this cross, you snivelling morons!"
The cloaked figure on the ground moved slightly....
"Holy crap!" exclaimed Langdon. "The crucified guy is still alive!"
Detective Smith grappled with his pistol, and shot the unfortunate Little Billy in the head. He instantly went limp, a look of pure shock and betrayal evident on his face.
"We can't have had that!" announced Smith, reholstering his pistol, and looking towards the very-startled Langdon. "How the hell are we supposed to pin a murder on Mel Gibson, when the murdered guy isn't even dead!?"
Langdon couldn't hold in his sudden anger. "You just shot that poor man in cold blood! He's the first person I've known to survive a crucifixion since Jesus himself!"
"There is absolutely no evidence at all to support the theory that Jesus survived the crucifixion!" shot back Smith. This was a very personal issue for him, and he was determined to set things straight.
"NO EVIDENCE?!" exclaimed Langdon. He whipped out a Bible from nowhere, and turned to a bookmarked page. "Luke 11:38- But the Pharisee, noticing that Jesus did not first wash before the meal, was surprised."
Langdon looked up from the Bible triumphantly. "'Pharisee' is an ancient Greek term, first coined in the late 1960's, meaning 'Magician.'" This makes everything completely obvious. Jesus has hired the help of a magician to make it appear that he had died on the cross, and to ensure that he was able to travel safely to India (after popping up to say hello a few days later)."
Detective Jesus Smith screamed, "That is a lie!" and raised his pistol to fire at Langdon, but suddenly there was a soft voice from the floor. Smith froze.
"It is all true..." the rasping voice uttered. The mysterious, cloaked man had regained consciousness.
"What did you say?" spat Smith.
"Is it all FACT..." replied the voice. "I did the research myself..."
Smith bent down, grasped the cloaked figure by the back of his neck, and flung back his hood. The face that was revealed cause both Langdon and Smith to stumble backwards in surprise.
"Mr. Brown!" exclaimed Langdon.
Dan Brown said: "Yes, it is indeed I, the famous writer."
Langdon asked: "Why would you try to kill me, Dan? After all I have done for you! When you sent me to get The Da Vinci Code, I didn't sleep for three days! You wouldn't even let me go to the bathroom!"
Dan pointed his finger at Langdon, and had a dark look in his eyes. "That was entirely your fault, professor. You rushed through the whole quest like a maniac, and managed to screw up everything I wrote."
Jesus Smith stared in disbelief and had another sip of wine. "YOU! You are that quack who wrote all that nonsense. You sold out the Lawd for 30 million gold pieces!"
Dan looked at Det. Smith for a moment, and it seemed like an eternity. "What is your name, detective?"
"Jesus Smith, and I ain't no Mexican."
"Holy smoke and holy water! Don't you know who your ancestor was?", replied Dan.
"I have no frigging idea, and if I did I sure as hell wouldn't tell YOU. All I know is that some woman found me floating in a basket case on the Gold Coast."
Dan replied: "Now, wait a minute, I have something to s...."
He never got to finish the sentence, because Smith smacked his face. "Now listen, mister. That's all I have to say about that. I'm not telling you anything more. You'd use my good name and reputation in some book."
Langdon couldn't be quiet anymore. "Mr Brown! I know what this means...ummm...I think I remember this. Detective Jesus Smith brought this bucket of water, and turned it into wine!"
"NONSENSE!" thundered a deep voice on Smith's radio. "This is God speaking, you morons."
"Oh, shut up!" cried Langdon, since he recognized the voice of Mel Gibson.
"Mr Brown, you were saying something about India?"
"Indeed I was", said Dan Brown. "I don't know if I can trust you nitwit with this, but I have another exciting and possibly fatal quest for you. But mind you - there will be no womanizing this time."
"Damn it!", muttered Langdon. "So I won't be needing the cryptex with Viagra in it...."
Reknowned symbologist Professor Robert Langdon and drunk detective Jesus Smith thundered down the carpeted corridors of the Sydney Opera House.
"You alone must complete this holy quest," Dan Brown had announced before departing. "This task has been appointed to you, and if you do not find a way, no one will."
To Langdon he said: "Robert. You must catch the nearest Jet Star flight to Adelaide, for it is the City of Churches, and hence the most logical location for this quest to take place."
To Smith he said: "Jesus. You will take an elevator to the top of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, and you will jump off it; because I don't like you."
The hurried footsteps of the two men echoed across the walls. "We must get to our respective locations as soon as possible!" shouted Langdon, when Smith suddenly slowed to a stop.
"WHY IS MEL GIBSON STILL ALIVE!?" roared the detective, and reached for his gun. The world started spinning for him. Gibson was still alive. The "director" had corrupted his very own police team. With Gibson still alive, Apocalypto would be released, and people might accidentally walk into a cinema and see the beginning before they were able to get out of there. Imagine living in a world like that! Life wasn't worth it at all.
Smith raised his gun to his head, and started to pull the trigger, but Langdon acted quickly and pried the weapon from his grasp. "We have a task to complete!" shouted Langdon. The gun clattered to the floor, and Smith lunged at it. He brought the gun to his head and fired, somehow missing his skull completely and shooting an unfortunate Langdon in the neck.
"What the hell are you doing?" wheezed Langdon, clutching at his throat. Smith fired at himself again, but the unexpected click signified an empty chamber. Furious, Smith lunged at Langdon and made to choke him. He was taking at least one retarded fictional character to Hell with him!
His hands found Langdon's neck, and Smith squeezed hard. Suddenly a blinding white light issued from Smith's hands, and encased Langdon's neck in blanket of illumination. Smith released his grip, and saw that Langdon's bullet-wound was miraculously healed.
"Oh, for Christ's sake!" he cursed.
A Note From The Publishers: We're really sorry to put you through all that...