Detective Z Searches for the Meaning of Life: The Metaphysical Detective 2

I sat at my desk, staring out the window of my dingy office. The city was alive with the hustle and bustle of the late afternoon, but I felt a sense of emptiness inside. I was a hard-boiled detective, a man who had seen it all and then some.

I sighed and took a sip of my whiskey, letting the burn of the alcohol distract me from my thoughts for a moment. I knew I was the best man for the job, but I also knew it wouldn’t be easy. I had been hired by a wealthy client who claimed to have lost all sense of meaning in his life and was desperate to find it again.

I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, trying to clear my mind and focus on the task at hand. The client was willing to pay whatever it took to get the answers he sought, and I needed the money.

I got up from my desk and grabbed my coat and fedora, heading out into the city to start my investigation. I knew I would have to dig deep, to uncover secrets and lies, to get to the truth.

As I walked the streets, I couldn’t help but think about my last case, searching for the existence of Karma. It had been a difficult one, and I wasn’t sure I had found an answer. But at least the client paid me. I wondered why I now had another kind of wacky, abstract case — to find the meaning of life.

I arrived at my first stop, a seedy bar on the outskirts of town. I knew I could find the kind of information I needed in a place like this, and I wasn’t disappointed. I sat at the bar and ordered a drink from the bartender, a woman so attractive that I almost forgot why I was there. Focusing, I struck up a conversation with the man next to me.

The man was an ex-con, a man who had done time for theft and lived in dozens of cities around the globe. He had a certain wisdom about him, a sense of the world that came from living on the edge.

I listened intently as the man spoke, his words filled with a mixture of cynicism and hope. He talked about the futility of life, and the inevitability of death. But he also spoke of the moments of beauty and wonder that could be found in the world, if one was willing to look for them.

I took it all in. I knew I was getting at the truth, but I also knew I couldn’t stop the stop there. I had to keep pushing, to keep searching.

I left the bar and continued my investigation, now noticing that couple of Jacksons were missing from my wallet. Sighing, I didn’t bother to go back and get them.

Instead, I visited a wide variety of places and people. I talked to philosophers, religious leaders, scientists, artists, homeless people, truck drivers, house painters, farmers, actors, housewives, and others (keeping an eye on my wallet). And as I listened to their stories and insights, I began to see a pattern emerging.

The meaning of life, I realized, was different for everyone. Some people found it in the pursuit of wealth and power, others in the pursuit of knowledge or beauty. Still others found it in the simple things, like the love of a family or the warmth of the sun on their face.

But no matter where they found it, one thing was clear: the meaning of life was something that each person had to discover for themselves. It wasn’t something that could be handed to them, or even something that could be easily explained. It was a journey, a path that each person had to walk on their own.

I finished my investigation, feeling a sense of satisfaction. I had found an answer — at least one that another client was willing to pay me for.

Bill Lauritzen’s website is www.Earth360.com.