A plane departed from Silicon Valley, flying towards Los Angeles, with Eric onboard.
As the plane approached Los Angeles, it had to pass through a small city called Santa Monica.
Lionsgate's headquarters were located here, and Eric had even had an affair with Sevi here.
At this moment, in a villa in Santa Monica, Tom Anderson was sound asleep in bed.
He had slept too late yesterday, working through the night, as he was performing the final checks on the social software he had developed, MySpace.
This social software was his brainchild; from conceiving the idea to its implementation, it had taken him over a year, and it was finally nearing completion.
He had already registered the domain name, and the software would be launched in a month at most, at which point he would create the world's first social networking site.
As a super genius, a prodigy who had founded a hacker organization at 14 and successfully infiltrated Manhattan Bank, attracting the pursuit of the FBI.
He was extremely confident in the software he developed; as long as it launched in July, it would quickly become popular worldwide.
The reason for his confidence was not only because of his technology and MySpace's excellence, but also because he was the first to enter the market; there were no competitors, and he would take everything.
By the time others wanted a piece of the pie, it would take at least half a year from software development to market launch.
But half a year would be enough for him to capture most of the market share.
By then, who could be his opponent?
Nobody! MySpace would forever be invincible.
And he would inevitably become a new internet mogul, earning a fortune.
Listing on Nasdaq a few years later, dominating social networks worldwide a decade later, and ultimately becoming a top internet giant.
Such a beautiful scenario, every time he thought of it, he would wake up smiling from his dreams.
"Hehehe,"
Tom Anderson laughed in his sleep, when suddenly, a violent knocking sound came from his door, as if to tear down his house.
He woke up with a start and quickly got out of bed, rushing to the living room.
"Who's knocking? Who's knocking?"
Tom Anderson shouted while putting on his clothes.
"Anderson, open the door, hurry, open the door, something big has happened!"
"Jarvis? Are you crazy? Are you going to smash this door?"
After opening the door, Tom Anderson's face was filled with anger, and his eyes were still bloodshot.
Jarvis, however, shouted anxiously, "Stop worrying about your rotten door, something big has happened, Facebook is here!"
"What?"
"Facebook is here!"
Tom Anderson wiped the drool from his face: "You sprayed it into my eyes, Jarvis, what on earth are you talking about?"
"Let me show you something."
Jarvis ran to the computer and opened Facebook; as the minimalist interface popped up, Tom Anderson suddenly felt his heart pound, and a very bad premonition rushed to his brain.
Entering his account and password, Jarvis logged into his account, panting heavily and pointing at the interface: "See? Look at this thing!"
Tom Anderson involuntarily took a few steps back, clutching his head with both hands and tearing at his hair: "OMG! No way! No way! How could this happen? How did this damn thing just appear?"
Jarvis also slumped to the ground, like a deflated balloon.
Although he wasn't a primary developer of MySpace, he was a shareholder.
The software was supposed to launch in July, and he had held great hopes, dreaming of getting rich overnight, but he never expected it to be all over.
"Yesterday, I went to school to find Professor Siver, and then I found that this software was being promoted on campus. After I tried it, I knew it was bad; someone had completed the first social software before us."
"And this person is very smart; he chose an impeccable promotion strategy, starting from university campuses, which is even more effective than our plan."
Tom Anderson stared at the computer screen with an extremely grim expression, when suddenly, a flash of lightning crossed his mind, as if he had grasped something.
"Jarvis, you said this software started its promotion on campus, so is the developer a college student?"
"If he's a college student, we can definitely find him and then buy Facebook."
"What kind of insight can a college student have? If we put a million dollars, the money from selling our software, in front of him, I don't think anyone could refuse."
However, he found Jarvis looking at him like he was an idiot.
"What's wrong? What's with that look?"
Sighing, Jarvis said, "When I first discovered it, I had a similar idea to yours. Then I found that a large number of celebrities had opened accounts in a short time, including Johnny Depp, Peter Jackson, Nicolas Cage, Nicole Kidman, too many to count."
"That's when I realized that this absolutely couldn't be done by a college student. The person or company that developed Facebook definitely has a lot of influence."
"Because compared to campus promotion, it's clear that celebrity endorsements are their real trump card."
"Just yesterday, according to my rough calculation, Facebook gained at least over 500,000 users. You and I both understand what this data means."
Upon hearing this, Tom Anderson was struck by lightning, feeling his vision go black and the world spin.
500,000 new users in one day, such terrifying data, unless the other party self-destructs, it wouldn't be long before they completely dominated the United States market.
He couldn't imagine how fast it would be; perhaps before July arrived, there would be no ground left for MySpace to survive.
Sensing his condition was not right, Jarvis quickly supported him and helped him to the sofa.
"Anderson, I rushed here to tell you that we need to make plans soon. What should we do with MySpace? We need to make a decision."
"What's your suggestion?" Tom Anderson asked in return.
"Continue developing it, since it's already nearing completion, and then go to Silicon Valley to find Facebook. Perhaps selling it would also be a good choice, at least it could recoup some of our capital."
Slap!
Slapping his forehead, Tom Anderson shook his head: "MySpace is my brainchild; I will never allow it to die this way."
"Then what do you want to do?"
After a moment of silence, Tom Anderson said in a deep voice: "We need to find a backer for ourselves. We can't beat Facebook fighting alone."
"Microsoft, Apple, Yahoo, Google, or media conglomerates, I believe someone will realize how valuable this pie is."
Meanwhile, at Harvard University.
Another person, like Tom Anderson, was in a state of frenzy; he was Mark Zuckerberg.
Looking at the prototype of the software he designed on the computer, and then at the Facebook homepage he created, Zuckerberg felt a deep sense of frustration.
Bang!
Punching his chest hard, Zuckerberg's eyes widened in anger.
"It must be cheating, there's a thief, it's a thief, they stole my idea!"
"No, the thief must be right beside me, they are monitoring me, stealing my inspiration!"
Just then, his roommate pushed the door open and returned.
"Mark, why are you still daydreaming? Why didn't you go to class? Do you want to fail?"
Seeing Zuckerberg unresponsive, his roommate walked over and patted his shoulder from behind: "Mark, Mark, what's wrong? Why aren't you talking?"
"Fuck! Thief, it must be you! You stole everything from me!"
Unexpectedly, Zuckerberg suddenly erupted, violently tackling his roommate to the ground, roaring furiously and grabbing his neck.
"Are you crazy?"
Unfortunately, his scrawny physique was no match for a fight, and his roommate punched him in the temple.
Zuckerberg immediately felt dizzy and nauseous, rolling over and falling to the ground.
Bang!
Then he took a kick to the stomach, coughing violently, curling up his body desperately like a roasted shrimp.
Spit!
His roommate spat on his face: "You lunatic, I'll tell the school about this, you just wait for your punishment!"
After saying that, his roommate slammed the door and left, leaving only the lifeless Zuckerberg, lying on the ground like a dead dog, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"Boss, where are we going?"
Looking at Los Angeles International Airport gradually shrinking in the rearview mirror, the driver Peter asked.
Eric looked down at the time: "Let's go to the studio. If I don't check it soon, they'll have to stop production."
An hour later, the car arrived at the MGM filming base.
Arriving at Studio 5, if he remembered correctly, blue is the warmest color was being filmed here.
It was 1:30 PM, break time was over, and it was time to start working.
Eric walked in, intending to be low-key, but as soon as his head popped out, he heard a staff member shout loudly: "The director is back!"
His voice was so loud, one might think he had discovered a murder.
Instantly, everyone's gaze turned to him. Eric smiled awkwardly, only able to wave and greet everyone.
Ashley and Mary had resentful expressions, and beside them was Chloë Sevigny, who was making a guest appearance.
Behind the monitor screen, Andrea and Neill Blomkamp quickly stood up and walked over.
The female director from England walked and exclaimed, "OMG! Director, you're finally back! It seems God has finally heard my prayers."
"Director, if you don't come back, the crew will just have to take a break."
Eric chuckled: "It's not that exaggerated. I think the set is quite good, everyone is very dedicated."
Before he finished speaking, Ashley and Mary had already walked over, pouting.
"I've never seen a director like you, abandoning the crew and running off yourself. Half a month, you've been gone for a full half a month!" Mary was the first to complain.
"Eric, although I haven't filmed any big productions, blue is the warmest color is definitely the most bizarre crew I've ever been in."
"The directors I've worked with before were all desperately rushing time, desperately pushing actors, wishing they could go up and act for the actors themselves."
"You really opened my eyes. I know some directors are manic, some are patient, and some are temperamental."
"Only you, you are the abandonment type!"
"You abandoned the crew, you abandoned Mary and me!"
Ashley subtly accused him, her words full of hidden meanings and veiled criticisms.
Others might not understand, but Sevigny, who knew Eric's true nature, had a thoughtful expression, her gaze shifting back and forth between Eric and the Olsen Sisters.
It was understandable for the assistant director to be anxious, but why was the actress anxious? She must have been having an affair!
After being criticized by everyone for a while, Eric understood the current filming progress.
Ever since he slept with the Olsen Sisters, Ashley and Mary had opened up their creative channels, and the filming progress was incredibly fast.
Looking at the schedule, there was only about one-tenth or one-twelfth of the scenes left, estimated to be finished in just over a week.
This was an art film, and it was being completed in just over a month. To say it was incredibly fast would be an understatement.
"Sevi, how is get out filming? I haven't visited the set in such a long time."
Chloë Sevigny shook her head: "I don't know either. I'm just an actress, responsible for acting my part well. I'm not clear about how James Wan arranged the filming."
"Are you enjoying working with James Wan?"
"It's great. Even though he's younger than me, he's a very creative director, and he has a good personality; he doesn't scold people. Our set is very harmonious, it's just that—"
"It's just what?"
"It's just that he's a bit… forget it, I don't like speaking ill of people behind their backs."
Sevigny hesitated, but her words piqued everyone else's curiosity. Who doesn't love gossip?
Eric pressed on: "What are you afraid of? I'm asking you, and I'm his boss. He won't complain about you."
"Alright, then I'll say it. Director James Wan is very stingy, extremely stingy!"
"Props, blood, locations, vehicles—he really saves money in every way possible. No matter what the step, if something bad can be used, he won't use something good."
"I really wonder, how much money did MGM actually approve for him?"
"Director James Wan also made excellent works like saw. They wouldn't have only given him one or two million, right?"
Eric waved his hand: "Of course not. I'm not a miser. I approved a budget of 5 million dollars for him."
Sevigny couldn't help but frown: "5 million dollars isn't a small amount, yet he has money but won't spend it, and he's still so stingy! It's really hard to understand."
"Haha, stingy but effective—film companies love directors like that the most."
"Hmph! Capitalists certainly like it, but it's tough for us actors."
"Stop talking nonsense, let's get to work!"
Eric took the microphone, and the previously slow-paced crew instantly hit the nitrous boost.
No one knew better than him what kind of feeling blue is the warmest color needed to convey. Under his direction, Ashley, Mary, and Sevigny began to out-act each other.
One was an Oscar nominee, and the other two were genuinely involved in a lesbian relationship. The latter's abundant emotional explosiveness was no less than the former's, and perhaps even surpassed it.
Unknowingly, several hours passed, and filming had continued throughout the afternoon.
As quitting time arrived, people started clocking out one after another.
Eric was contemplating calling Gadot to go to her place that evening when he found himself surrounded by the Olsen Sisters, one in front and one behind.
"Let's go!" Mary said.
"What?"
"Let's go. You're not going to break your promise again, are you?"
Eric slapped his thigh: "But I didn't bring a gift. It wouldn't be appropriate to visit empty-handed, would it?"
"I knew you'd make excuses. I bought it," Ashley said.
"I'm inviting you to my house for dinner and even preparing a gift for you. You're not going to refuse again, are you?"
"Haha, how could I? Then let's go."