April 4, 1998.
It may have been a bit naive. The framework built with William Domer around the automotive market filled itself with different ideas that required constant funding for the development of people, and that was the complicated part. Seeing how companies barely fit together, even when what was least desired was a corporate merger, and instead what was hoped for was a kind of spiritual union between two companies that wanted to compete in two different fields. First, Billy hoped to take the high-end segment—luxury cars—toward Lamborghini engines, with strict requirements on pricing, market sales, and innovation. Meanwhile, Lotus would be the lower high-end range, used by and available to the middle classes through effort, and it sought to become the priority car size for mass consumption. Renewable energy, electricity instead of gasoline, even water—whatever mattered or proved fully useful—everything Billy wanted for Lotus was material change. For now, though, he would optimize people for the future.
—So you're telling me that now they've decided to form a union, after we signed a contract with South Dakota. It's a smokescreen, son. When you look them in the eyes and see what they've done, there's nothing wrong with it. Let's simply argue to the media that now that the auto union has a future, the other companies should follow suit and move forward. —He replied calmly, aware of the difficulties and the weight on his shoulders, a part that burned in his heart.
—Will you handle it? —Billy asked.
—Of course, son, let me take care of it. However, a favor requires a favor. I don't quite know how to say this, but I think it's best to discuss it calmly. —William Domer said, weaving threads, silent movements behind the shadows.
—If it's within my power, I'll do it. —Billy replied calmly, well aware of the favors the environment had in mind. Still, something about it was irritating, because people always had a tendency to surprise him and drag him to a place of indifference—deep indifference.
—Well then, boy, I'll be expecting your arrival in America. —William Domer replied, now recognizing the young man's precision. He now saw the automotive industry as a forgotten gold mine, one that was about to move—and when it did, when everything shifted into place.
The plan was simple: send Billy with his granddaughter Amelia, make her appear innocent and make her appear cruel. Billy would commit out of honor once he crossed the line, and when that line reached its limit. Then the mother would act. Removing that Italian woman from the equation was difficult, but plans were already in motion—many of them managed by her agents: contracts here and there, media maneuvers, strange photographs, whispers about Billy, generating distrust, pulling strings carefully, and thus steering the Rockefeller household empire, reviewing the list to which he was invited—solely by tradition, not by work.
—Congratulations on your new movie, dear Billy. -
...
Billy picked up the phone while receiving a note from Raimon about the end of the money, the last countries falling under the table; only then did he earn another eight hundred million.
Billy.
Korea, Japan, and Singapore had been chosen months ago. I like it; it seems to me that the places we are part of have a special touch. The accounts are now precise, with the acquisition of companies, and the positions our Tiger Funds hold will help us do the bare minimum.
I believe that in fifteen days, the shares in our hands will expand through the purchase of metallurgical companies at ridiculous prices, and he then decided that our Asian expansion plan made sense; we will buy everything we want. Looking ahead, I now think Latin America should stand by my side; perhaps seeking a stake in Mexico and a bit of Brazil would be good ideas.
Matrix was a whip of work that seemed to have been running for days, and when the pieces came together—the small cuts, one of the edits—whoever denied it, whoever wanted to be part of those places.
—It seems that anyone who now looks back at the three parts has very little to say. —One of the directors commented. He acted as a spokesperson at one of the locations where the world premiere would take place. Larry was doing painful work—everything left under recommendation and everything that remained from his scene.
—So you're betting on a box office that breaks the general rule? You mean that a science fiction film could do what no other film has done—surpass a budget of one hundred million dollars per movie? —the journalist asked, with venom.
—Those aren't my words. This film "will mark the history of cinema as the end of a century full of manifestations; it's not the film itself that matters." It's everything it's capable of showing—something that lives in people's minds—and when everything becomes a binding point between quality and quantity. The people who try to copy and create something similar are simply expressing a desire. —Larry replied, loosely quoting Billy's blunt words, more or less, and closing with a hook. The name of that young man was glorious, silencing the doubts of those present.
—Billy then confirmed that price. —Another reporter said plainly. —So tell me, how is it possible that a project once considered discarded by fifteen production studios, then taken as a joke, can be sustainable for three full films released on schedule, year after year? -
—I simply do it. My brother and I have many stories to tell, and because those stories make it easy for me to see that everything that exists and lives in the world is nothing more than a breath. —Larry replied.
The cameras flashed on. The United Kingdom was present. The new science fiction and fantasy stood as a wonderful purpose—a place where ideas seemed to materialize with joy.
...