In early morning Manhattan, the clouds were sliced open by the first rays of sunlight.
Jim Clark stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of his high-rise office, looking out over the city that never sleeps.
The conversation from three days ago on the golf course still echoed in his mind. The unwavering conviction and almost crazy certainty in the eyes of that guy from the East, Link, when he talked about the future of the movie industry, was something Clark couldn't shake.
A heavy thud sounded as a thick contract hit the desk. His lawyer frowned, looking utterly bewildered.
"Jim, you call this venture capital? This is practically a charitable donation!"
Clark didn't turn around.
He simply stared down at a black Jaguar parked on the street below.
The sun glinted off the car window, allowing him a faint glimpse of the man in the driver's seat—hands on the wheel, face calm, with the slightest, almost invisible smirk playing on his lips.
It wasn't a smirk of excitement, but one of absolute confidence, like a man who already knew the outcome of the future.
Clark chuckled softly.
"Outrageous? Maybe."
He walked over to the desk, picked up the agreement—thick as a phone book—and flipped to the final page.
"But with some people, you're not investing in a project..."
He paused, holding his pen above the paper.
"...You're investing in the person."
The signature was applied, the pen drawing a clean arc across the page.
It felt like stamping the seal on the future.
"I'm investing in a capable lunatic like him."
The lawyer started to protest, but Clark calmly capped his pen.
"Just sign it."
---
Link hung up the phone and leaned back in the driver's seat, tapping his fingers lightly on the steering wheel.
The contract was signed.
He had secured the financing he'd dreamed of—not only was the money there, but he'd also kept absolute control of Pangu Pictures.
Traffic rolled along the Manhattan streets, and sunlight streamed through the windshield, hitting the side of his face.
In that moment, he felt unusually calm.
Because he knew it wasn't luck.
It was the one thing he and Clark shared—
That reckless abandon, the kind of madness that makes you bet all your chips on the future, no matter the cost.
Just then, a pale blue screen silently floated into view before his eyes.
The numbers on the panel began to jump wildly.
[System Alert]
[Critical Financing Event Detected]
> Influence Points: +10,000
> Current Total: 14,000 Points.
System Version Upgraded to 2.0.
The blue light shimmered, and three new features slowly materialized:
[Feature 1: Industry Insight]
> Cost: 3,000 Points.
> Content: Provides a clear analysis of an industry, a film, or an individual. The system integrates current data, public opinion, and trends to highlight issues and potential opportunities.
> Explanation: Helps you see the truth and find the most effective breakthrough.
Link squinted.
This thing is practically a 1990s big-data analyst.
[Feature 2: Future Sandbox]
> Cost: 5,000 Points.
> Content: Allows you to input hypothetical conditions, and the system will project the three most likely future outcomes.
> Explanation: See the cost of your choices ahead of time.
He whispered, "Project the future?"
He tapped his finger on the steering wheel.
"If this is accurate... that's basically cheating."
[Feature 3: Spark of Inspiration]
> Cost: 10,000 Points.
> Content: When you're stuck, the system will provide one key spark of inspiration. It might be a method, a creative idea, or a single phrase that solves the problem.
> Explanation: When all lines of thought are dead ends, this lights up the one crack in the wall.
[System Note: "It won't make the decision for you, it only helps you see more clearly."]
The blue interface reflected in the car window, the cool light catching his eye.
Link quietly studied the screen, a slight grin forming on his lips.
This device was like having a portable emergency playbook.
He leaned back in his seat, thinking hard.
All three features looked useful.
But they all had high point costs; he couldn't just experiment willy-nilly.
"Industry Insight?"
He shook his head.
"Pangu is just getting started. I still have three projects to push forward. Even if I found a better project, I wouldn't have the capacity to handle it."
"Spark of Inspiration?"
He pondered this for a moment.
"That's a card for a critical moment, but the cost is too high. If I burn 10,000 points now, what will I use to break through when I run into real trouble?"
His gaze landed on the third option—[Future Sandbox].
Projecting the future.
Risk assessment.
A roadmap.
He smiled.
"Right now, what I need most isn't intel or inspiration—it's security."
He knew that James Cameron was notorious for going over budget, and as a fledgling company, Pangu could not afford to be dragged down by him.
He steeled his nerves and called up the [Future Sandbox].
[Launching "Future Sandbox"]
> Remaining Influence: 9,000
[Input Question: Will Pangu Pictures' production of Titanic be a success?]
Data streamed across the light screen, surging like a tide.
A few seconds later, three future paths appeared:
[Path A] Success (70\%)
> The film explodes globally, rewriting cinema history. Pangu Pictures enters the top tier of Hollywood entertainment companies.
[Path B] Imbalance (20\%)
> Budget overruns and production delays plunge Pangu into a financial crisis.
[Path C] Collapse (10\%)
> A technical failure or public relations disaster causes the project to be shelved, leading to company liquidation and bankruptcy.
Link leaned back in his seat and slowly closed his eyes.
The street sounds of New York poured in through the window—car horns, footsteps, the distant wail of an ambulance, all mixing together like the heartbeat of the city.
He took a deep breath, his voice a low murmur:
"It seems even when everything follows the script, destiny still finds a way to introduce variables."
He opened his eyes, his focus back on Paths B and C.
"Since I know the risks, I need to nip them in the bud before they ever happen."