[Owen POV]
"Huh?" Gael was confused when he amplified the calculator ability to the third level.
All of us were waiting expectantly for him to showcase the ability.
There's some electrical sparks in his hand, but it was not threatening.
Gael suddenly said, "I think that's it?"
"Really? At level 3, all I can do is make my fingers tingly?" Agustin was thoroughly disappointed.
"I think so." Gael replied.
I thought about it and said, "Why don't you try to use that ability again, this time around electronics?"
"Oh! Right! It can connect with something. Gael didn't try that yet." Agustin said hurriedly.
We went to my house as I was the only one with the computer. Gael tried the amplified calculation powers again, and this time, something happened.
My entire computer was fried.
"What the hell is this power?!" Agustin almost went mad.
Gael was silent for a while, seemingly digesting something. Suddenly, he said to Agustin, "I think. I can reverse engineer this computer now."
After Gael blew up a couple more of my technology– my Nintendo console, the VHS player and radio, I guessed Agustin could evolve his ability to the level of technomancy or a digital mechanic.
Djalu could restore all of the broken technologies, so nothing was lost.
When Gael tried to connect with the computer the twelfth time after about 5 hours, he finally managed to connect his brain to the computer codes.
However, he has no idea what to do with it.
"That is interesting. Can you and Agustin try something for me?"
Both of them turned towards me.
"Learn about codes, and try to figure out a way to compress video on DVD. If you manage to crack out the .mp4 format before the Japanese do, you guys would automatically become billionaires."
They all gave me blank stares.
Agustin scratched his head. "Uh… why the Japanese?"
"Because Japan is ahead of us right now," I explained. "They already have working prototypes of DVDs—those shiny discs that can hold movies in digital form."
Although it wasn't until the new millennium arrived that the technology would become widespread.
"The problem is, the video files are enormous. It can't fit into the CDs."
"Will it replace VHS later in the future?" Elena asked.
I turned to her and nodded.
"VHS is analog. Big, bulky, and every copy loses quality. You copy a tape ten times, the last one looks like it was filmed through mud. Digital video doesn't have that problem."
"But right now the files are so huge you can't share them online, and you can barely fit a movie onto one disc. That's why music already has .mp3, but video is still stuck in the stone age."
I leaned closer, making sure they were listening. "You patent that. License it to companies such as Microsoft. And they would need to pay you every time someone used their media player."
Agustin's eyes glittered. Gael didn't really have a reaction.
"Also, if you can figure something out for me. A digital editing software where you can change the tint on the videos– the digital ones, or maybe a film one where it was changed to digital format."
I smirked slightly, "If you can figure out the color balancing, you might even bankrupt a colour correction company."
…
A week passed by. Independence day was still dominating at the theater.
4CLOVER Pictures rented an empty movie theater to preview the movies we had financed.
Scream, Swingers, and Hold On Tight. All three were from a partnership, not made by our very own studio. Still, I hold all the distribution rights for them all.
One movie was finished entirely, but the other two were still waiting for a vacancy in the Technicolor lab so that the colors could be fixed.
"Swingers barely got the slot in the Technicolor lab after six weeks. They had submitted the application first, and then shot the movie. Once it was done, they sent the film in." Claire said to Elena who's disguising as me.
The reason why indie movies often looked muted in color was because they skipped this step. Without proper balancing, films ended up with the dull, grayish look of a made-for-TV movie.
Inside the theater, Elena sat beside Claire, two rows in front of me. Jon Favreau, Wes Anderson, Payne, and Chbosky were there too.
A lot of the actors skipped the test screening—saving themselves for the actual premiere—but Steve Carell, Sarah Michelle Gellar, and I came.
We didn't have much going on anyway.
Jessica, George, and Lenny also came. Lenny had worked on the soundtrack for both Swingers and Hold On Tight.
Thanks to a dreamscape session, he managed to finish both jobs in a fraction of the time, though he still gave me a $100,000 fee since he considered it double work.
The first movie was Swingers.
On screen, we followed Mike, a struggling comedian who just moved to L.A. after a breakup, as his loud, overly confident friend Trent dragged him through parties, diners, and poker tables.
It was a story of heartbreak, friendship, and trying to "make it" in the city—funny, but also painfully real.
We marketed it as a breakup movie, since it was an universal experience. From the feedback, it seemed that a lot of people were interested in seeing it.
With the bigger filming budget, Doug Liman had elevated the whole movie to feel like a proper studio picture.
From the 5 million dollars budget, I added two more million just for the post-production since they needed it.
Trent: "You so money you didn't even know it."
The dialogue still hit hard. The crowd laughed, nodded, and then applauded as the credits rolled.
Doug Liman and Jon Favreau both shook my hand afterward, thanking "Jack Kennedy."
They knew I'd put $10 million into P&A alone, and secured 1,200 theaters for its opening. With 4CLOVER backing them, how could they not smile at the reception?
The second movie was Scream, Wes Anderson's slasher twist.
It opened with the infamous phone call—an ordinary suburban night that spiraled into terror as a masked killer played cat-and-mouse with his victims.
Neve Cambell, Courtney Cox, Drew Barrymore– the movie has a lot of famous actresses in the roles.
Wes had layered it with quirky staging, awkward pauses, and deadpan delivery in between the violence, giving it this eerie off-balance tone.
Even without the color grading, the movie still worked. The tension was there. The deaths were shocking.
The meta-commentary about horror tropes drew quiet chuckles from some in the room. But visually? It felt unfinished.
The whites of the mask looked muddy, the blood wasn't sharp, and the shadows bled into gray.
Sarah leaned over and whispered, "It feels like a TV movie."
I nodded. "That's the color pass. Once that's done, it'll look like a real studio horror."
In the front row, Elena, disguised as Jack, discussed a similar topic.
Claire added quietly, "That's another two hundred grand just for Technicolor to process the reels. Plus another two thousand dollars for every release print we need."
Luckily for me, my lotion royalties had kicked in, so I had 30 more million in reserve.
I knew the math already. If we wanted 1,000 theaters, that meant a $2 million bill just to strike the prints after the master was graded.
Swingers had gotten lucky since they squeezed into the schedule—Technicolor usually had a backlog months long, and big studios always got priority.
Indies that waited bled money, so they decided to either release it as it is, or go on to some cheaper labs.
'Making movies always took a lot of money. I almost bled dry because of it.' I thought, slightly depressed.
Finally, it was the third movie. My movie– {Hold On Tight}.
Steve shook his body giddily on his seat and said, "I can't wait to see it!"
Sarah too was elated.. "Owen, you're not excited?" She asked me, curious.
"I have already seen it yesterday." I told them.
"Ah!" Sarah gasped, seemingly offended. "Why didn't you wait for us?"
I just shrugged, not really answering.
The truth was that Gael, Cahaya, Bayani, and I worked on the film together yesterday.
For the color balancing, it would take a long time and millions of dollars. Cahaya could use her ability to do it, messing with the tint in the film, but her powers didn't cause permanent change.
However, the films could be copied. We didn't mess with the original copy of the film stock, instead used the one we copied to make some experiments.
All of us went silent as the film started.
The setting was the 1960s. A young father drove his car home to his house where his wife and son were waiting with a smile. The son was Steve Carell's character in his youth—Timmy Jackman.
The credits rolled at that time. First my name, then Steve Carell in his own display, my name above him. Then Lisa Kudrow and Sarah Michelle Gellar. The four main cast. After that came the recognizable names among the extras.
As the sequence ended, it read: Directed by Alexander Payne, Written by Stephen Chbosky.
-Movie Start-
Young Timmy's dad, played by Dana Carvey, stood proudly at the front door with his wife, waving to the neighbors. It was a perfect family picture.
But once the door shut, the smiles disappeared. Shadows on the wall revealed the truth—the father and mother shouting, their words muffled, while the boy crouched on the floor with his hands over his ears.
Still, he loved his dad. The little kid, drew something on the wall of their house in crayon. "I luv momma and dada" he painted on the house wall.
Instead of adoration, his father yelled at him, and his mother quickly tried to shield him as his dad raised his hand up.
A gentle melody began, something that carried the same weight as the first notes of Up.
The mother left soon after. The father drank a lot. Timmy was left alone, almost a teenager and the smile on his face faded as the years passed.
He showed his father a report card—ignored.
He held up a small trophy—pushed aside.
He blew out birthday candles—the empty chair at the table beside him.
At eighteen, Timmy walked out of the house and never looked back.
The music shifted, brighter, livelier. A new chapter.
Steve Carell now played Timmy, his face lighter as he stumbled into love.
They were in a cafe and Catherine Keener appeared as his partner, and the tone of the film lifted instantly. They fall in love at first sight. The colours appeared again on the screen.
The wedding was a rush of joy. He carried her across the threshold of their home, still in her dress, both of them laughing.
Quick cuts of happiness followed. Burnt pancakes in the kitchen. Dancing clumsily together in the living room. Fixing the car side by side, her smile was the brightest thing in the frame.
Timmy endured his boss's yelling at work, but the moment he stepped through the door, his wife's arms around him erased the weight of it.
His life was finally perfect.
She showed him the news of her pregnancy. They embraced, spinning in the living room as the music swelled.
The audience has a huge grin on their faces, exuding happiness for Steve Carell's character.
The hospital scene cut in, chaotic. His wife screamed, nurses bustled, and Timmy fainted at the sight of blood.
Everyone stared at him in disbelief—even his wife in the middle of labor—eliciting a ripple of laughter from the audience.
Then the music soared. A baby in their arms. A family of three.
They spend the first two years of their life perfectly. The kid grew, and the mother chased him around the backyard as the father watched proudly.
The joy didn't last. The colors on the screen shifted, draining away into cooler tones. The hospital again—but this time no laughter.
Catherine Keener lay pale in bed, Timmy clutching her hand, his face broken. The word cancer whispered by the doctor was louder than any shout.
Her funeral. A small crowd. Timmy stood at the graveside, holding his baby, shattered and hollow.
The music slowed, strings drawing long, aching notes.
He sat alone at the dinner table, a beer can in front of him. His hand reached toward it, trembling—until his son tugged gently at his shirt.
Timmy turned, and in his son's little hands was a messy crayon. He pulled his dad somewhere, and Timmy saw a familiar crayon drawing on the white wall.
"I luv Dada", etched underneath the picture of the man holding hands with the son. His mother was also there, watching from heaven.
Timmy's chin quivered. His hand shook. He pulled his son close, clutching him as though he would never let go.
-Movie Pause-
I heard some sobs coming from beside me. Sarah and Steve's faces were full of tears. Not only them, the majority of the audience too.
'I guess the opening scene alone will drive people to watch it in the cinema.' I thought secretly.
I had to applaud Gael and Cahaya's work for the color grading in the movie.
It made it seem like the movie was made with a 40-50 million dollar budget– in this era's standard, from the way the film popped on screen.
–Movie Continue–
The montage lifted again—quieter, more fragile, but filled with hope.
Timmy rushed from work to pick up his son. Cheering wildly at soccer practice. Sitting in the bleachers, clapping until his hands were raw. Always there.
He celebrated with his son as he won the game. He comforted him as he lost. He was always present.
But time passed. The boy grew into a teenager, moody, distant.
One day, Timmy opened his arms for a hug. His son brushed past him, swerving away, the small boy who once clung to him now gone.
The music faltered, then cut to silence.
The montage ended with father and son sitting in a car together, the silence between them louder than words.
Timmy dropped his son to the school, and as his son got out of the car, he told him, "I love you Scott Micheal."
The son just nodded in acknowledgement and didn't say it back.
As he walked away, the dad got a bit annoyed and honked his car, which made every student turn to watch them.
"I said I love you, Scoot Micheal!" Timmy said with a loud, attention-gathering voice.
The son was aghast, saying, "Dad! You're embarrassing me."
"You know you can end it by just saying it back." Timmy shouted again.
"Really? We're doing this?"
"I lov—" Timmy tried to help his son by mouthing off the sentence. "Come on. 'I love you Dad'. Say it."
"As an American, we never negotiate with a terrorist." Scott said seriously.
Laughter rippled through the crowd inside the theater as the camera lingered on Timmy's baffled face.
"Really? A hostage situation now?" Timmy was flabbergasted.
The security guard intervened and told Timmy to leave since it was a 'no parking' space.
Sarah—Kimberly in the story—suddenly stood behind her boyfriend and waved goodbye to the dad. "Scott love you back, Mr. Jackman!" she shouted.
Timmy looked at his hotsy totsy girlfriend with disbelief. She nudged him and said, "You could've said it back."
"Ehhh." Scott Micheal just shrugged. Then, he was teased by some of his friends, which showed how popular he was in the school.
The film cut to Timmy at work—fluorescent lights buzzing, the atmosphere cold compared to the warm sunlight of the soccer field.
The story continued with Timmy getting made fun of at his office. He gets with a group of outcasts there, a black guy, an Asian dude, and a fat guy.
He asked them why his son was pulling back, and all of them said it was a normal thing for a teenager to do.
They established the setting for the story, and then at school, Scott set up a date with his girlfriend smoothly, in front of everyone of his friends, which made her blush.
The contrast between father and son was hammered home by the editing—awkward office jokes cross-cut against Scott's easy charm at school.
This was where it was also established that Scott was in the gifted class, and had to go to private school for his intelligence, which made them not have any vacations at home and such.
"He might be ignoring you cause he thinks you're poor." The fatso joked. However, Timmy took that seriously, "Do you really think so?"
A mid-30s, average looking woman in the same department came to the group quickly and interjected, "No. Tim, don't listen to them. They don't know what they are talking about."
"It's normal for a teenager to act this way. Believe me, I know."
She comforted him and chased the others away.
"Thanks Amanda." Timmy said. She smiled and her gaze turned longing for a second before she left him to continue working.
Cut back to Scott. He went home—driven by his girlfriend—and took a shower. He slicked his hair back, mafia style.
As he saw his reflection in the mirror, he made an Italian hand gesture while mimicking Marlon Brando.
"You came to me… On the day of my daughter's wedding. You insulted me. You insulted my family."
He continued as he blow dried his hair. Then, he left the dryer on the table next to a magazine without turning off the plug.
He passed his dad who just got home and said, "Hey, I'm going out with Kim."
"Where are you going? Do you need some money?" Timmy asked him as Scott walked out the door, and when he heard the offer, he immediately made a U-turn and said, "Yes please."
"Remember. Be respectful. Don't do anything without her consent." Timmy reminded his son.
"I hear you." Scott replied with understanding. Timmy sighed as he watched his son get picked up by his girlfriend using her car, and went on to make a cup of tea.
He used the stove to heat up the kettle.
"Shoot. I forgot to pick up the dry cleaning." He said as he hurriedly got out of the house and got into his car.
Inside the cinema, Scott asked his girlfriend, "Do you want to count your shoulders?"
"What? What kind of game is that?" She asked, confused.
"This kind of game. One, two," Scott counted his own shoulder, then touched her shoulder while smoothly placing his hand over it, "Three, four. There's four shoulders here."
…
"This is hitting just right at the family friendly spot." Claire said, fully impressed by the film.