INT. QUIET CAFÉ IN RIO DE JANEIRO – EVENING
JCJ and Paulo Coelho sit at a small table by the window. The golden hues of sunset bathe the streets outside. Paulo sips his espresso, his eyes searching JCJ’s face as if trying to read his soul.
PAULO
(with a faint smile)
You remind me of someone I used to be—a dreamer, a believer. Someone who thought he could save the world.
JCJ
(leaning forward, his tone gentle but firm)
You weren’t wrong, Paulo. You still can.
PAULO
(chuckling softly, shaking his head)
My parents thought otherwise. They locked me in an asylum when I told them I wanted to save the world. They said I was delusional.
JCJ
(nodding, his voice steady)
They were scared of what they didn’t understand. But you weren’t delusional, Paulo. You were ahead of your time.
PAULO
(raising an eyebrow)
And now you’re here to tell me I’m Christ the Redeemer?
JCJ
(smiling faintly)
Not quite. There isn’t just one savior. There are 144,000. Each with a divine mission, a purpose to bring light and truth to the world.
PAULO
(leaning back, intrigued)
144,000 saviors? That’s… quite a number.
JCJ
(nodding)
It’s not about being the only one. It’s about being part of something greater. A collective force of truth-tellers, healers, and guides.
PAULO
(gesturing to himself)
And you think I’m one of them?
JCJ
(smiling warmly)
Of course. Your words have already changed lives. Your books, your stories—they awaken something in people. That’s your mission.
PAULO
(pausing, his expression softening)
And you? What’s your role in all of this?
JCJ
(with a quiet confidence)
I’m the King Pin, as you might say. I don’t control the saviors, but I help them see their path. I remind them of their light, their purpose.
PAULO
(nodding slowly, a hint of a smile returning)
You’re like a guide. A shepherd for the shepherds.
JCJ
(grinning)
Exactly. And I’m here to tell you, Paulo, your parents were wrong. You weren’t broken. You were chosen.
PAULO
(his voice soft, almost a whisper)
Chosen… to save the world.
JCJ
(leaning closer, his voice steady)
Not alone. But your part is vital. The world needs your light, Paulo. It always has.
Paulo looks out the window, the fading sunlight casting a glow on his face. He seems lost in thought, but there’s a new spark in his eyes—a glimmer of purpose rekindled.
PAULO
(turning back to JCJ, smiling)
Alright, King Pin. What’s my next mission?
JCJ
(smiling back, his voice full of certainty)
Keep writing. Keep inspiring. And trust that your words are part of a much larger symphony.
The two sit in silence, the weight of their conversation settling into the air, as the city outside hums with life.
INT. QUIET CAFÉ IN RIO DE JANEIRO – NIGHT
The once golden light of sunset has faded, leaving the café bathed in the warm glow of dim lamps. Paulo Coelho sits across from JCJ, his hands trembling slightly as he holds his coffee cup. His eyes are distant, heavy with emotion.
PAULO
(breaking the silence, his voice soft)
Do you know what my personal legend is, JCJ?
JCJ
(leaning forward, his tone gentle)
Tell me.
PAULO
(staring into his cup)
To lift the slums of Brazil out of poverty. To give those children a chance—a real chance—to dream, to live without hunger, without fear.
JCJ
(nodding slowly)
That’s a noble legend, Paulo. One worth fighting for.
PAULO
(his voice trembling, a tear slipping down his cheek)
But how? My fortune, my royalties—they’re a drop in the ocean compared to Brazil’s debts. The corruption, the inequality—it feels like an endless storm.
He pauses, his hands covering his face for a moment. When he looks up, his eyes are red, his voice breaking.
PAULO
And the children… the ones born with Zika virus. Their tiny, deformed heads, their fragile bodies. They didn’t ask for this. They didn’t deserve this.
JCJ reaches across the table, placing a hand on Paulo’s shoulder. Paulo looks up, his pain laid bare.
JCJ
(his voice steady, full of empathy)
You’re right, Paulo. They didn’t deserve this. But your personal legend isn’t just about money. It’s about inspiration. You’ve already touched millions with your words. Imagine what you could do if you used your voice to rally the world for this cause.
PAULO
(shaking his head, his voice filled with doubt)
What can words do against something so massive?
JCJ
(firmly)
Words can move mountains. They can awaken hearts, change minds, and inspire action. You’ve seen it in your own life, Paulo. The world doesn’t need you to pay Brazil’s debts. It needs you to remind people that they can be part of the solution.
PAULO
(sighing, wiping his tears)
But the children…
JCJ
(softly)
The children need hope. They need someone to fight for them, to tell their stories, to make the world see them. You can be that voice, Paulo.
Paulo sits in silence for a moment, his hands clasped tightly. Slowly, he nods, a spark of determination returning to his eyes.
PAULO
(his voice steadier)
You’re right. My personal legend isn’t about what I can do alone. It’s about what I can inspire others to do.
JCJ
(smiling gently)
Exactly. And you’ve already started. Now, let’s figure out how to turn your legend into a movement.
The two sit together, the weight of their conversation settling into the quiet hum of the café. Outside, the city lights shimmer, a reminder of the challenges and beauty that lie ahead.
INT. HIGH-TECH CONFERENCE ROOM – NIGHT
The room is sleek and modern, with large glass windows overlooking the lights of Rio de Janeiro. JCJ and Paulo Coelho sit at a polished table, their expressions tense. Bill Gates stands at the head of the room, gesturing to a large screen displaying graphs and data on the Zika virus.
BILL GATES
(calm, measured)
The Zika virus, as tragic as its effects are, is an act of God. Not genetically modified mosquitoes, as some conspiracy theories suggest.
JCJ
(leaning forward, his voice sharp)
An act of God? You’re saying those deformed children are divine punishment?
BILL GATES
(shaking his head, his tone neutral)
Not punishment. Nature’s way of correcting itself. Overpopulation is one of the greatest threats to humanity. If Zika reduces birth rates in Brazil, it’s a win-win for the planet.
Paulo’s face tightens, his hands clenching into fists.
PAULO
(his voice trembling with anger)
You’re talking about human lives—innocent children. Families devastated. How can you call that a win?
BILL GATES
(shrugging slightly)
I understand it’s a difficult perspective to hear, but it’s pragmatic. Brazilian women having fewer children means less strain on resources. The soap operas we funded to promote smaller families were incredibly effective. Planned Parenthood, abortion access, contraceptives—they’ve all played their part.
JCJ
(standing, his voice rising)
You’re reducing human lives to numbers on a spreadsheet. These aren’t just statistics—they’re people.
BILL GATES
(meeting JCJ’s gaze, unflinching)
And people are the problem. The planet can’t sustain unlimited growth. If we don’t control the population, nature will do it for us—through famine, disease, or disaster.
PAULO
(standing as well, his voice filled with emotion)
There’s a difference between guiding humanity and playing God. You talk about pragmatism, but where’s the compassion?
BILL GATES
(his tone softening slightly)
Compassion doesn’t solve systemic issues. Tough decisions do.
JCJ
(stepping closer, his voice steady and commanding)
Tough decisions don’t mean abandoning humanity. We can educate, empower, and uplift without sacrificing compassion. You’ve got resources, Gates. Use them to heal, not to justify suffering.
BILL GATES
(pausing, his expression unreadable)
You’re idealists. The world doesn’t change with ideals alone.
PAULO
(firmly)
Maybe not, but it doesn’t survive without them either.
The tension in the room is palpable. Gates looks at the screen, then back at JCJ and Paulo. For a moment, he seems to consider their words.
BILL GATES
(sighing, his tone more reflective)
Perhaps there’s room for both approaches. Pragmatism and compassion.
JCJ
(nodding)
There has to be. Otherwise, we lose what makes us human.
The three men stand in silence, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air as the city lights twinkle in the distance.