The management assistant, who had acquired a purplish shade and seemed to be defying salubrious blood-pressure levels, shook his head and adopted a royal expression of indignation. “And you? Aren’t you going to tell me your name at least?”

“Last name LaMancha, first name Quixote, at your service and the service of the Generalissimo.”

“This is disgraceful.”

Fermín looked him firmly in the eye and nodded. “Precisely. And what do we do in this country with such disgraces but sweep them under the carpet and cash in on them?”

* * *

An hour later, Fermín and Fernandito were still waiting for news from the operating room. At Fermín’s request, the boy had drunk a hot cup of cocoa and was beginning to revive and regain some calm.

“Fermín, do you think they’ve swallowed all that stuff you told them? Haven’t you gone a bit too far with those lurid details?”

“Fernandito, we’ve planted the seed of doubt, and that’s what matters. When it comes to lying, what one must consider is not the plausibility of the fib but the greed, fear, and stupidity of the receiver. One never lies to people; they lie to themselves. A good liar gives fools what they want to hear and allows them to free themselves from the facts at hand and choose the level of self-delusion that fits their foolishness and moral turpitude. That’s the secret. Oldest trick in the world.”

“What you’ve suggested is terrible,” Fernandito objected.

Fermín shrugged. “Depends how you look at it. In this farcical world of ours, where leopards try to hide their spots and lambs think themselves lions, falsehood is the glue that keeps all the bits together. People get so used to lying and repeating other people’s lies, either because they’re afraid or out of self-interest, resentment, or sheer stupidity, that they end up lying even when they think they’re telling the truth. It’s the failing of our times. The honest, decent person is a species in danger of extinction, much like the plesiosaur or the well-read burlesque dancer.”

“I can’t accept what you’re saying. Most people are decent and good-hearted. The trouble is that a few bad apples give a bad name to the rest. I have no doubt about that.”

Fermín patted the boy’s knee affectionately. “That’s because you’re still very green and a bit of a simpleton. When you’re young, you see the world as it should be, and when you’re old you start to see it as it really is. You’ll be cured of it eventually.”

Fernandito hung his head. While the boy battled with the blows of misfortune, Fermín scanned the horizon and noticed a couple of nurses in tight uniforms advancing up the corridor. Their pleasing architecture and the way they wiggled as they walked produced a tickling sensation in the nether regions of his soul. For want of anything better to occupy his mind while waiting, his eyes bored into them expertly. One of the nurses, who looked like a junior and couldn’t have clocked more than nineteen years on her meter, threw him a look as she went by to indicate that the likes of him were never, ever going to taste such delicious fruit, and then laughed. The other one, who seemed more feisty when it came to dealing with idle visitors hanging around the corridors, looked at him severely.