Anne, the director of Billy's companies, saw the growth. Working alongside two specialists, the company's expansion reached 83%, an enormous figure of success—an almost unimaginable truth. Over the past year, driven by fervent and diligent work, an intimate truth about people had begun to surface, something that rooted itself deeply within them.
-We have a problem. Do you see this? This means we have an inventory issue that began at least 410 days ago. The volumes are selling strongly, though with a certain urgency—it was almost a disposition. I mean, sales drop by two points, and that causes printing to exceed the limit. But it also shows that during special periods, they sell twice as much, perhaps ten times, or even thirty times what they sell in the current year. These are moments when a series ends, when a series is released on television, or when the random factor simply becomes known. - Dresden replied.
-Then what should we do? - Anne asked.
-Well, how difficult can it be for you to ask me that? Because they seem to have a little-known correlation that always leaves me speechless. - Dresden replied.
He abandoned the tone of simplicity.
-What happens is that you must create a recall of sales and new work, rekindling the taste for them even when production stops. I believe you should increase production and reduce distribution.
How much do you think?
It was a question Anne wished to ask, yet she already understood it. With Dresden's numbers, what remained was to average the final sales and the memory of every comic sold, and to generate a massive warehouse where at least the core sales could be stored. That meant they would need to sell at least ten million copies per series in full, each series consisting, in summary, of twenty to fifty volumes—nearly fifty million books in total. A figure estimated to stabilize declining sales, and now that the respective ten-year marks were being reached and some series were arriving at those milestones, the increase would double. Because when Billy carried the work and did it well, that work could become a thousand times easier.
-I like it. I definitely like it. - Anne replied.
-I see that you understand it. It's something that certainly works. You only need to adjust it, and together with the copies already sold, make an estimate and develop a commercial strategy—perhaps one suggested by someone, maybe your sales director. - Dresden replied.
For some time now, he seemed to understand how ill-timed it was to make suggestions in this company. Last year,r he had proposed a system of losses if they stopped growing—and the opposite happened. Expansion nearly doubled, and that was the form of fear: the intensity of failure, or perhaps the way to complement that terror.
-You can run the calculations. I want +1 estimates. I want you to build a projection for at least the next ten years. We will certainly have renewed sales by then. - Anne replied, understanding how difficult it was to calculate success.
What was the plan? Simply a powerful idea from Billy: to make a massive gift of books to every public library in the country—at least the most famous ones that kept a clear record—and to open a section for graphic novels or fantasy. It was a good cause, and Billy was remarkably good when it came to doing things, and one of those things was awakening appetite. Once he opened it, nothing could surpass it. That was the way he poured all the information outward.
-I'm afraid no one would want to take on the challenge of selling. I'll have it ready by then. - Dresden replied with that practicality of his. His smile was alive, and his frantic ability to hit the mark was the best thing about him, no matter the reason. Naïve, full of imagery, difficult to answer, and easily manipulated.
-I have a meeting. Send the report to my secretary. - Anne remarked, already knowing that the third position of chief operations director was on its way, and that person was a member of the MGM team. Together with Rumino and Steve Parks, a massive purchase of the entire library was supposed to have been carried out. It was complex—there was no doubt about that—a fervent headache.
-Of course. - Dresden murmured.
…
-Sorry for the delay. - Anne commented as she entered.
The majority shareholder had arrived. A man named Kirk Kerkorian joined them, and he was easily the sort of very wealthy man who enjoyed investing in casinos and hotels.
-No problem. I've had time to read the agreement. It's a very good deal. - Kirk commented.
-The catalog remains ours. You keep a single-use license, on the condition that you allow us to purchase the preferential distribution rights to your films, at least for the duration of the relationship. - Anne replied, adjusting her glasses.
She knew well that the best outcome was for everyone to win. Besides, with the sale of the library, everything would fall under a single image—and that image was the renewal of the catalog. Along with some contracts, that breathing room was enough to pocket the gains after the sale, and the sale itself was only another addition.
-A great success, betting in that way. - Kirk replied.
-Billy wants to turn cinema into an idea of sharing, where people can do good by discovering the best content. And now that he has a library in his hands, whenever you decide, we will carry out collaborative work. - Anne replied.
She knew perfectly well that independent cinema had quality. MGM had been a poorly used face. Yet in terms of operation and preference—even at the cost of taking on debt—Billy would rather buy Universal, Paramount, Fox, or Warner. To simple eyes, they were better companies, and in Billy's view, after long discussions, that was clear.
He had seen that since 1999, the fourteen-year role of the paper, and the answer to why Ted Turner had certain classics in his hands, was simply an idea that was acquired and then stirred and reshaped.
***
Billy breathed in the air of America, the distant noise of the heights, and the privacy he obtained when he stepped out on business—quick work, something intimate. It seemed almost unbelievable to say that now he could visit Marvel, and that Marvel was understandable and magnificent.
-A quick trip, without delay. - Billy whispered to himself.
He thought then of the Headless Horseman—so near, so brief—that any hint of decency he had long wished to nourish and resolve came to mind. He would like to stop by Marvel and see what they were plotting, though he doubted it was real. It was complete, and fleeting.
...