Motorola was already a behemoth, and after selling off his shares years ago, Simon had stopped paying attention to the company.
Yet Nokia, which in the nineties stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Motorola, was still just a small fish huddled in a corner of Northern Europe, a mobile communications company that had risen fast and fallen just as quickly. In his original timeline, its peak market cap had exceeded $200 billion. How could he possibly let that opportunity pass?
And Cersei Capital happened to have more than enough firepower to swallow it whole.
The thought of Nokia sparked something, but Simon wasn't in a rush.
Mobile communications were still in the analog era for the next few years. The digital revolution and GSM standard that propelled Nokia's ascent wouldn't arrive for another two or three years. He had plenty of time. The matter could wait for his European trip in the second half of the year.
Still, the flash of inspiration made him decide that during the long break after finishing Batman, he would systematically comb through his memories again, hunting for more "sleeping giants" still in hibernation.
They reached the parking lot. Once Amy finished her call, the four of them headed to a nearby restaurant for dinner.
Meanwhile, across North America.
As the weekend arrived, office workers began planning their leisure time.
Going to the movies with family or friends had long been a classic weekend pastime. And now, in the heart of blockbuster season, it was even more tempting. For the hordes of students on summer break, there was no scheduling required, they could walk into a theater anytime.
The current lineup:
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, the long-awaited sequel most people had already seen opening weekend.
The Bodyguard, soundtrack already bought.
Ghostbusters II and The Karate Kid Part III reportedly rushed into production by Columbia to boost stock prices during Sony's acquisition talks; the reviews were dreadful. Pass.
Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, Disney family fun. Looked decent.
The Sixth Sense new release today. Written by Simon Westeros, starring Robert De Niro. No one knew exactly what it was about, but it was a horror film, and Westeros's horror scripts were always brilliant. Plus De Niro rarely did horror. Had to see it.
…
Daenerys Entertainment's box-office dominance last year had been blinding. With Westeros writing and De Niro starring, every other studio had quietly stepped aside to avoid being crushed, even though the marketing had felt oddly restrained.
So, like Indiana Jones and The Bodyguard before it, The Sixth Sense was the only wide release this weekend.
Simon went without saying. De Niro, fresh off Pulp Fiction and Dead Poets Society, had reclaimed his throne. For many, The Sixth Sense was the weekend's top choice.
Manhattan.
Lisa Collins now a fully licensed attorney with a coveted position at the prestigious Skadden, Arps finished a long day, had dinner with her boyfriend, and finally slipped into a theater around nine.
The film, of course, was The Sixth Sense.
Two years had passed since that weekend in Park City with Jennifer. It remained the most extraordinary memory of Lisa's life. [TL/N: What? who r u? oooo ic u r jennifer friend ig.]
Back then, she'd thought the young man was already dazzling enough. She had no idea that Sundance was merely the opening chapter of his ferocious ascent.
Now he was Hollywood's youngest director of a billion-dollar blockbuster in a single year. He had created or spearheaded a string of massive hits. He could play "Flight of the Bumblebee" so brilliantly it left audiences stunned. He'd become the youngest Palme d'Or winner. He had miraculously amassed billions in mere years.
Just last week, a casual trip to visit his girlfriend had nearly triggered a stock-market collapse in the world's second-largest economy.
Watching him rack up miracle after miracle, Lisa, despite having met him only once had become one of Simon's most devoted admirers. When her best friend threw caution to the wind and went to work for him, Lisa had seriously considered doing the same. In the end, too many ties held her back.
Still, through Jennifer she kept close tabs on him, and she always supported every one of his films on opening day.
She even owned a copy of the piano solo tape titled "Blizzard." Jennifer had let it slip during a phone call. Lisa had threatened to fly to Los Angeles, steal the tape and the man himself if necessary. Jennifer had relented and sent a copy. The result? Lisa's admiration only grew.
Inside a theater on Broadway.
Lost in thought, Lisa felt her boyfriend Carl Lloyd gently steady the popcorn bucket threatening to tip in her lap. She snapped back, gave him a small smile, but inwardly she was dissatisfied with the Goldman Sachs banker beside her.
If this guy hints one more time that my father should introduce him to clients, I'm dumping him.
I only agreed to date you because you're handsome, charming, and moderately competent, enough to soothe a lonely, overworked girl's heart.
Two months in and you're already trying to live off me?
Pfft!
The lights dimmed. Lisa pushed the stray thoughts away.
After a few trailers, the lavish Daenerys Pictures phoenix rising from flames filled the screen.
Lisa immediately noticed something unusual.
Daenerys Entertainment's film labels were split three ways:
Daenerys Pictures, the phoenix for mainstream blockbusters.
New Line Cinema, lightning clearing to blue sky for horror and thrillers.
Gaumont, the flowing, artistic strip of film for arthouse releases.
If The Sixth Sense was simply the "horror film" marketing claimed, it should have carried the New Line banner.
Instead, it opened with the main studio's phoenix.
The logo faded. The story began.
The scene opened in a bustling hall during a reception. Onstage, a silver-haired official gave a brief speech honoring child psychologist Dr. Malcolm Crowe for his contributions, presenting him with a certificate of appreciation. The sequence moved briskly: lively toasts, then Malcolm, Robert De Niro and his wife headed home.
Besides De Niro, Lisa recognized the actress playing his wife.
Right, Eve from Once Upon a Time in America. Noodles' lover.
Second time they'd played a couple.
The actress wasn't a big name; Lisa didn't know her name.
Onscreen, still buzzing from the evening, Anna went to the cellar for a celebratory bottle of wine and discovered an intruder.
Malcolm cautiously engaged the man, learning he was a former patient he'd failed to help. After a desperate monologue, the man shot Malcolm, then turned the gun on himself.
A second gunshot.
The camera shook, settling on Malcolm on the floor as Anna's terrified sobs filled the air. Slowly, it pulled back.
Prologue over.
Cold, aimless shots of empty San Jose streets drifted by, accompanied by music as credits rolled.
Simon had heavily reworked the opening. Instead of the original's budget-conscious scene of the couple awkwardly reading the certificate aloud, he'd set it at a lively reception, quickly establishing Malcolm's identity while delivering exposition smoothly.
The wandering street shots between prologue and main story were deliberate metaphor: a ghost aimlessly roaming the city.
Of course, only viewers who reached the end would appreciate that.
Lisa, knowing nothing, missed the metaphor but was already hooked by the prologue. She wondered if it was told in flashback whether the suicidal patient was the boy from the trailers.
Then the timeline jumped: one year later.
Malcolm sat on a park bench reviewing a patient file. The camera lingered on circled notes:
"Cole Sear, age 9."
"Parents divorced."
"Withdrawn, extreme anxiety. Possible mood disorder."
Cut.
Across the street, a boy emerged from his house, put on glasses, glanced around warily like a frightened animal ready to bolt.
Cole Sear.
Malcolm followed him to a church and gently began talking. Cole relaxed, even initiated conversation.
First session: Cole knew Latin, displayed delusional symptoms, had unexplained scars possible abuse.
The story split: Malcolm's growing estrangement from Anna left audiences wondering what had happened in the missing year.
Strange occurrences shadowed Cole's life.
A seasoned filmgoer with a sharp, analytical mind, Lisa sensed something within half an hour. When Cole whispered, "They don't know they're dead," she knew for certain.
Malcolm had died a year ago.
The revelation made her glance around. In the flickering light, most faces were rapt, no sign anyone else had caught the film's central secret.
Yet the suspense, the interplay between leads, the eerie apparitions around Cole kept everyone gripped wondering what it all meant, how it would resolve, whether the doctor could cure the boy.
Lisa glanced at Carl. Noticing, he turned from the screen, smiled, and whispered, "Interesting movie."
"Yeah," she replied, eyes returning to the screen.
Even knowing the twist, she wasn't bored. She still needed to see how it ended.
Onscreen, things seemed headed toward hope.
Under Malcolm's guidance, Cole opened up, learned to communicate with the spirits. When he helped a poisoned girl expose her stepmother, Lisa felt a surge of exhilaration.
This must be Cole's future.
Afterward, Cole finally unburdened himself. During a traffic jam, he confessed to his mother that he could see ghosts.
Watching mother and son embrace in tears, Lisa's eyes misted, a smile tugging at her lips. Around her, many shared the emotion.
But Cole's story was resolved. What about Malcolm?
Most of the audience, still basking in the mother-son reunion, assumed the film was wrapping up.
A reflective epilogue, perhaps?
Malcolm had failed the young man who killed himself. Now he'd redeemed himself, helping another child emerge from darkness.
He and Anna would reconcile.
Sure enough, Malcolm returned home. Their wedding video played on TV. In her sleep, Anna murmured his name, she still loved him. All he had to do was wake her, explain, and the rift from last year would heal.
Happy ending.
Classic Hollywood.
But.
Malcolm leaned in, echoing her sleepy words, overcome with feeling, and moved to kiss her.
Anna instinctively turned away. As she did, her hand opened. Their wedding ring slipped from her fingers and rolled toward Malcolm with a soft clink.
Her own ring was clearly on her finger. Malcolm stared at the one that had been his, trembling as he raised his left hand.
A storm of emotion, fear, anger, something else crashed over him.
Then he saw his wife's breath in the cold air.
A torrent of overlapping voices flooded his mind. The boy's voice.
"We'll see each other again, right?"
"They don't know they're dead."
"I see dead people."
"It gets cold when they're angry."
"We can pretend we'll meet again tomorrow. Just pretend."
…
He was the one who didn't know he was dead.
A ghost.
(End of Chapter)