On Tuesday morning, Donovan didn't have to go to Oakridge Academy. His grandfather had personally excused him for "family business."
They were riding together in the back of Arthur Blackwood's black sedan, cruising down the highway toward Burbank. Arthur was reading the financial section of the newspaper, while Donovan looked out the window, watching the trees and commercial buildings of Los Angeles roll by.
"So," Arthur said, turning the page of his newspaper without looking up. "Your father called me last night. He told me he's setting up a software development studio for you."
Donovan smiled. "Rogue Entertainment. It'll be a subsidiary."
Arthur let out a raspy laugh, folding the newspaper. "Barely ten years old and you're already diversifying the portfolio. Just make sure you leave some market share for the competition, or the government will hit us with antitrust laws."
The car pulled up to a massive brick warehouse in the heart of Burbank. From the outside, it didn't look like a top-tier animation studio. It looked like a simple, abandoned factory.
But when they walked inside, the place was full of noise and movement.
There were thick cables running all over the concrete floor. Long metal tables were being set up, and dozens of boxes containing high-end monitors were stacked in the corners. In the center of the room, a team of technicians was working frantically on the render farm server network.
They looked pretty stressed.
Donovan and Arthur walked over to them. The lead engineer, a skinny guy with glasses and a plaid shirt, was waving his arms.
"The liquid pressure is too high!" he yelled at one of his coworkers. "If we boot up the rigs right now, the coolant is going to blow the seals and flood the motherboards!"
Donovan stepped closer to the server table. In his past life, being a computer engineer had given him the perfect mortal foundation for understanding this hardware. But for his divine soul, which came from a hyper-advanced cosmic civilization, the technology of 1992 Earth was basically like watching cavemen play with rocks and sticks. He understood the entire system effortlessly.
He stood calmly next to the lead engineer.
"You just need to drop the main pump voltage by fifteen percent," Donovan said.
The engineer looked down, blinking in surprise at the ten-year-old kid in jeans and sneakers standing next to his million-dollar equipment.
"Look, buddy, you shouldn't be playing around here..." the engineer started to say, trying to gently shoo him away with his hand.
Donovan let out a tiny bit of his power. Just enough to anchor his voice, so the adult would stop treating him like a lost kid and actually listen to what he was saying.
"The coolant flow is bottlenecking at the CPU block," Donovan explained casually, pointing at the clear tubing. "If you lower the pump voltage, the liquid will have the exact amount of time it needs to cool down in the radiator before cycling back through."
The engineer went quiet for a second, suddenly realizing that the kid's suggestion made perfect technical sense. The frustration on his face vanished, replaced by pure curiosity.
"That... that would actually work perfectly," the engineer muttered. He spun back to his team. "Adjust the main pump! Drop the voltage by fifteen percent, right now!"
A few seconds later, the erratic humming of water rushing through the tubes stabilized into a smooth, constant sound. The danger of a leak was gone. The engineer sighed in relief and looked down at Donovan with a smile, though he still looked pretty confused.
Arthur, who had been watching the whole thing in silence, patted the engineer on the shoulder. "Meet my grandson, Donovan. He designed the schematics you're using."
Before the engineer could say anything else, a cheerful voice called out from across the room.
"Mr. Blackwood!"
A guy in his mid-twenties, with messy hair and a rock band t-shirt, jogged over. He was carrying Donovan's sketchbook under his arm. It was the lead animator Arthur had hired.
"Donovan, this is Mark," Arthur introduced them.
"Your designs are killer, little dude!" Mark said enthusiastically, offering Donovan a high-five. "The style for this rubber pirate is insane. I already started doing some motion tests with the stretching arms. It's going to be so much fun to animate."
"Glad you like it, Mark," Donovan said, happy to see someone who understood the vision. "Just make sure the fights feel fast and fluid."
"You got it, boss," Mark laughed, giving him a friendly tap on the shoulder. He just treated him like a cool kid with great ideas, no awkward formalities.
They spent another hour walking around the warehouse, making sure the drawing area had the right lighting. Donovan was satisfied. The place was really coming together.
When they finally stepped back out into the bright California sun, the air felt much cooler. Arthur opened the car door for his grandson.
"Everything look good?" Arthur asked.
"Everything is perfect, Grandpa," Donovan said, climbing into the car and buckling his seatbelt.
Arthur sat next to him, and the driver started the engine.
"Good," Arthur said, loosening his tie a bit. "It's been a pretty productive morning."
Donovan nodded, looking out the window as the warehouse disappeared in the distance. Suddenly, his stomach gave a loud rumble. He had been so focused on checking the computers and the sketches that he hadn't even eaten breakfast.
"Hey, Grandpa," Donovan asked, turning to him. "Can we hit the McDonald's drive-thru on the way home? I'm starving for some fries."
Arthur laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "Only if you let me order a large chocolate shake."
The black car turned at the next intersection, looking for the closest yellow sign.