Otaku Translation: Blackstone Code Chapter 146

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When James received Cook's call, he was still tutoring his children with their homework. Among the truck drivers working for Lynch, James was one of the few with "higher education." Of course, this higher education didn't mean he had attended university or anything; rather, he had completed high school and spent a year at a vocational school.

This kind of vocational school wasn't the type set up in factories to scam educational subsidies, but a legitimate one where people learned truck driving and basic truck maintenance.

In fact, Cook and the other truck drivers all acquired their car repair skills from James. So while he might not have been the most prominent figure in the group, he was a vital core to the small collective.

Sometimes when people had issues, they'd also consult him because he had the highest education level.

James's home didn't have a telephone. Installing one wouldn't cost much, but the problem was, that having a phone installed wouldn’t serve much practical value.

No one would be calling him all day, nor did he need to call others all day; so, most ordinary households didn't have phones. But they had a "telephone" — public phones.

In Sabin City, a public phone booth could be found approximately every hundred meters. When individuals needed to provide a home phone number, they would typically give the number of the nearest phone booth to their homes. Consequently, when the phone in the booth rang, someone on the street would promptly answer, and then...

"James, it's your call!" A scream akin to encountering a dreadful horror came from outside the window, resulting in an extra dash in James's child's workbook that shouldn't have been there.

James straightened up and walked to the window, looking at the neighbor standing outside the phone booth, holding the phone and looking at him. "It's for you, James." His voice lowered slightly.

"I'm not deaf!" he grumbled, though his tone carried more of a sense of gratitude than complaint.

This was the neighborhood of ordinary people and the life of ordinary people. They rarely expressed gratitude in a formal manner; sometimes, they might even have resorted to gestures like a nod or a raised middle finger instead of saying thank you. Yet, they understood better than the seemingly virtuous but actually morally corrupt upper-class society what it truly meant to be grateful and how to show appreciation.

When he appeared on the street, he already had a thin pancake wrapped in a sheet of newspaper in his hand, possibly stained with ink. Nevertheless, it was undoubtedly a delicious treat, if one didn’t mind such minor details.

The neighbor took the pancake and bumped shoulders with him, casually handing him the phone before wandering off, nibbling on the pancake as he strolled leisurely.

Many men living in the area had lost their jobs recently. Besides wandering the streets all day, they didn't know what to do. If they stayed home, their women would berate them for being lazy, telling them to go out and find a job. It was truly baffling why these women would conveniently forget about issues like equality at a time like this.

After James took the call and nodded a few times, he hung up the phone. It was Cook on the other end, asking him to go somewhere immediately. Silently, he noted the address given.

Most drivers, whether they were car drivers or truck drivers, possessed a remarkable ability. They could quickly locate a place in their minds based on detailed address information, even "visualizing" the surrounding scenery of the location.

He stood downstairs, exchanged a few words with his family, then hurriedly left.

With Lynch paying him, his life was no longer as tough as it had been recently, and the relationship between him and his wife had become much more harmonious.

At about nine o'clock in the evening, James arrived in front of a luxurious villa. Its grandeur stirred a nervous sensation within him, causing his palms to grow clammy.

He had originally intended to wait for the sweat on his palms to dry before going in, but to his surprise, Cook came out to meet him, so he had to wipe the sweat off on his pants.

"Is there something urgent that you want me to come at this hour?" James asked softly as they entered the villa.

Cook's expression was somewhat strange when he responded to James' question. "Wasn't it your dream to become a screenwriter? Well, now's your chance."

In truth, he doubted James would be able to gain the favor of these influential figures. Yet, this didn't stop him from feeling a blend of envy and jealousy, knowing that James's success would inevitably set him apart from them.

Actually, Cook was overthinking it. Even if James became a screenwriter, he wouldn't become that significant, considering that screenwriters were the least valued.

Yes, the least valuable.

If directors raised their voices, capitalists would likely compromise. The same goes for actors, behind-the-scenes staff, and even film critics, who had nothing to do with the actual filmmaking. Yet, when screenwriters protested, capitalists would swiftly point to the door and tell them, "Get out of my sight immediately!"

Anyway, even though he had doubts, he couldn't shake a tinge of envy and jealousy. He didn't wish success upon James, nor did he believe it was possible.

However, as a true friend, he couldn't help but hold onto a glimmer of hope for James' success, despite his conflicting emotions.

He briefly explained the situation, but instead of easing James' nerves, it seemed to make him even more anxious.

James understood that this was a chance to change his life, and he was determined not to give up, nor did he want to.

With his mind in turmoil, he appeared in the villa's living room with Cook's accompaniment. In the living room at the moment, besides Lynch, his young boss, there were also two very wealthy-looking bosses and some stylishly dressed young people.

They might not be very wealthy, but there was a certain haughtiness in their faces, a look James had seen on some university students' faces. It was a mixture of pride in themselves and disdain for the world. After all, in this era, those who could afford to go to university weren't from the lowest strata of society.

Noticing his nervous demeanor, Lynch poured him a glass of wine personally and gestured for Cook to deliver it to him. "Don't be nervous. We've invited you here simply to have a chat. But first, take a look at this script and tell us what you think."

Cook handed James the script along with the glass of wine. After a few sips, James visibly relaxed, his nervousness easing a bit.

Actually, it wasn't the wine that made the difference, but rather a psychological suggestion at play. It was he himself who managed to calm his nerves, and it had nothing to do with alcohol. Interestingly, a comparable psychological phenomenon was also present in the current federation's society.

He read the script carefully. After about ten minutes, he closed it and sighed heavily. "It's an excellent script. The author must have referenced some mythological or religious stories while writing it. It's filled with various metaphors."

Fox Junior and his former classmates beside him initially wore smiles, but what James said next immediately caused those smiles to fade.

"This kind of script might win awards, but audiences won't like it. Audiences want relaxation and joy..."

He plucked up the courage to voice his inner thoughts. Despite managing to sell a few scripts to film studios and directors' associations over the past two years, the reality was that initially, nobody wanted his scripts.

Like the author of this script, he initially sought to showcase his artistic talent. However, faced with repeated rejections, he eventually turned to popular films, abandoning certain artistic ideals. It was through this shift that he began to find some measure of success.

Successfully selling his scripts made him one of the backups for film companies or director unions, so he was qualified to evaluate this script.

Lynch nodded in satisfaction. "So, do you think the story could be made more appealing?"

James had relaxed a lot by now, and what Lynch asked happened to be one of the things he was best at, so he wasn't that nervous. "Trim down the complicated plot, make the story simpler, add some trendy elements like aliens, spaceships, highway killings, ketchup, and actresses not wearing clothes..."

"Adult-rated?" One of the script's creators scoffed. He didn't elaborate further, but his remark, accompanied by a sneer, appeared to deride James, suggesting he had only that much capability in the end.

Relying on sensory stimulation to catch the audience's attention was the lowest method, a choice they wouldn't make.

Facing these young people, who were probably university students, James seemed to perform better than Lynch had imagined. He didn't retort in embarrassment or swear. Instead, he lifted the script in his hand with a tone of amusement. "This is an adult-rated script too."

Those who were laughing at him immediately fell silent, their faces not looking good. The investors directly rejected their script, and their peers looked down on them, which made them a bit angry.

One of them stepped forward, snatched the script from James's hand, looked at Lynch and Mr. Fox with a disdainful smile that seemed to say, "You'll realize how utterly foolish your choices were in the future," then bid farewell and left.

Others also got up to say goodbye. Since they couldn't secure investment from Fox's side, they didn't need to waste time here.

Fox Junior felt a bit embarrassed. Actually, by now, he already realised that these classmates and alumni were here to seek investment, or rather, to swindle money. This made him embarrassed because he had questioned Mr. Fox's judgment before.

Lynch didn't care about these. He just looked at James with a sense of playfulness. "How long do you need if you were to write this script?"

James's heart began to race. He vaguely realized that he was about to have a chance to succeed, a brand new life he had longed for was currently facing him.

After careful consideration, he gave a suitable time — three days.

The three who decided to look at James's script before making a decision let Cook and James leave first. They had other matters to discuss.

Lynch was a professional and dedicated person. Once he learned that Mr. Fox and his son's plan had already commenced, he could no longer ignore it.

In any case, these things would bring him wealth, influence, and lay the foundation for his legendary status in the business world.

What he wanted to discuss with Mr. Fox and his son was how to make some money before the film was even shot.

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