Crown Of Dreams

November 19, 1992 - Beverly Hills Mansion, Los Angeles

3:15 AM PST

The Los Angeles night sprawled like a jewel-encrusted blanket beneath Jake Morris's private office, its cityscape glittering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The room, an intersection of modern luxury and traditional woodwork, was dark except for the cool glow of Jake's Bloomberg terminal. On its screen, the numbers were climbing steadily—Aladdin's box office revenue reflecting a success that Jake had anticipated, but only to a degree:

Week 1 Box Office: $25 million

Week 2 Projection: $30 million

Total to Date: $55 million

But these figures, impressive though they were, were still far from the ambitions Jake held in his mind. His eyes drifted to the secondary screen that flashed a reminder of his target.

Original 1992 Goal: $504 million

New Ambition: $1.008 billion

In the realm of animation, where Aladdin was already carving out its place as a cultural phenomenon, Jake wasn't interested in just success—he wanted to redefine it. He wanted to make history.

The sudden ping of the system's notification cut through his thoughts, the message flashing in bold across his peripheral vision:

Ding! You are to land the lead role in the upcoming Jurassic Park and win the auditions.

Jake felt the words like a punch to the gut. The iconic Jurassic Park, already set to become a behemoth of cinema, was not just another project. It was the project. A game-changer that would define careers for decades. But for Jake, a relative newcomer, securing a lead role in such a monumental production felt... impossible. The tension in his chest grew, a gnawing uncertainty tightening like a knot.

Jake gritted his teeth, eyes narrowing at the glowing text. He couldn't afford to let his emotions cloud his judgment. He leaned forward, trying to ignore the irritation gnawing at him. "Can we talk about this? I know in New York you sent me this task, but this... This is a whole other level. How am I supposed to land the lead role in a film that already has established stars like Sam Neill?"

The system's demand seemed ludicrous. His throat tightened. Wasn't this too much? The conflicting emotions tugged at him. On one hand, this was everything he had worked for—an opportunity to land the role that could make him a household name. On the other hand, the stakes were enormous, and the path seemed too steep to climb.

His thoughts turned quickly into words, muttering under his breath, "System, show me my current assignment details."

In his mind, the text materialized, glowing a faint, digital blue:

CURRENT TASK: Jurassic Park (1993)

Requirement: MUST SECURE LEAD ROLE

Status: PENDING

Reward: MUSIC MASTERY PACKAGE

World-Class Production SkillsPerfect Pitch RecognitionUniversal Genre Mastery

WARNING: Failure to secure lead role will result in task failure.

Jake stared at the glowing text. A lead role? In Jurassic Park? This was absurd. Sam Neill was already locked in for Dr. Grant. The rest of the roles were cast, the script was written, and Spielberg's vision was all but complete.

"System," Jake whispered again, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Spielberg's already cast Neill. The lead roles are locked. How am I supposed to—"

[THAT SOUNDS LIKE A YOU PROBLEM], the system quipped back, its tone oddly derisive. [REQUIREMENT REMAINS: SECURE LEAD ROLE.]

Jake blinked, momentarily stunned by the system's sassy response. Was it getting... snarky?

"Can't you adjust the task? Something easier, maybe?" Jake pressed, his mind spinning. "What about a supporting role or—"

[OH, I'M SORRY, DID THE WORLD'S MOST HANDSOME MAN JUST ASK FOR AN EASIER ASSIGNMENT? PERHAPS YOU'D PREFER A CAMEO AS 'PRETTY BOY EATEN BY T-REX'?]

Jake groaned, rubbing his temples. Not only did the system seem to be getting bolder, but now it was actively mocking him. This was going to be harder than he'd thought.

The interruption of a sharp knock at the door saved him from responding.

"Son?" came Eddie Morris's voice, warm and firm, yet tinged with the unmistakable sense of urgency. "Got a minute?"

Jake exhaled slowly, as if to gather his thoughts before turning to face his father. He pressed a button to unlock the door, and Eddie, in his signature tailored suit, entered the room, a leather briefcase in hand and a smile of quiet victory on his face.

"The bank just confirmed," Eddie said, his voice a mixture of relief and pride. "Crown's debt is clear. All $50 million—paid in full."

Jake froze, blinking as he processed the words. "Wait—how? Aladdin's only made $55 million so far, and Crown gets 35% of that. Even with the advance payments... how did we clear the debt so fast?" Jake's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What aren't you telling me?"

Eddie leaned against the desk and let out a long sigh, a glint of satisfaction in his gaze. "Michael Eisner called yesterday. Disney wants to lock you in for their next five animated features. They're offering a $30 million advance against future earnings."

Jake stared at the contract folder his father handed him, his mind racing. "Five movies? Exclusive contracts?"

Eddie nodded, his pride evident. "They're betting on you, Jake. Aladdin's performance has been off the charts, especially with teens and young adults. They see you as the future of animation."

[WELL, WELL], the system's voice chimed into Jake's thoughts, dripping with its characteristic mockery. [LOOKS LIKE SOMEONE'S VOICE IS WORTH ITS WEIGHT IN MOUSE EARS.]

Jake ignored the system's taunts as he quickly scanned the contract terms. The offer was enormous: exclusive voice rights, profit participation, and creative consultation. Disney wasn't just hiring him—they were buying a partnership with Crown Studios.

"But why clear our debt now?" Jake asked, suspicion creeping into his voice. "They could've waited until we were more desperate to negotiate better terms."

Eddie's grin widened. "Because Harvey Weinstein was circling with a counter-offer. Disney didn't just buy our loyalty—they bought our independence from Miramax. Eisner knows the future of animation is massive. He wants Crown Studios strong enough to be a true player, not just a desperation partner."

Jake sat back, processing the information. On one hand, the Disney deal represented security, both financially and creatively. On the other, Spielberg's meeting was approaching—and with it, the impossible demand of securing a lead role in Jurassic Park.

[TICK TOCK, PRETTY BOY. SPIELBERG'S BREAKFAST MEETING IS IN FOUR HOURS.]

Jake rubbed his temples, trying to calm his thoughts. "Dad," he said slowly, "What if we used this Disney deal to get something bigger? What if..." His voice trailed off, as an idea began to form, like lightning striking in the dark. "What if we created a new kind of lead role for Jurassic Park?"

Eddie raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued despite himself. "You're talking about rewriting Spielberg's script? That's a bold move, son."

Jake smiled, a sudden burst of energy filling him. He grabbed a legal pad and began jotting down ideas. "Exactly. Think about it. Jurassic Park is all about adults—scientists, experts. But what about the younger generation? The kids growing up on Nintendo and genetic engineering?"

Eddie leaned in, interested. "You want to target the youth market?"

"Yes," Jake said, his excitement growing. "We need someone who represents that generation—a prodigy in genetics and paleontology, someone who sees the park through different eyes. Someone who can challenge the adults."

Eddie thought for a moment, then nodded. "A character who challenges Hammond's assumptions, someone for the younger crowd to latch onto."

Jake's eyes sparkled as he continued. "Ethan Reyes. A Stanford prodigy, socially awkward, but incredibly sharp. A kid who bridges the gap between theory and survival."

[NOT BAD, NOT BAD], the system commented, its tone still dripping with its usual sardonicism. [WE'LL SEE IF THIS IDEA CAN SURVIVE THE FINAL CUT.]

Jake ignored the system's commentary. "Ethan would highlight the flaws in the park, the ethical dilemmas of tampering with nature. He's the voice of youth challenging authority, theory versus practice, science versus survival."

Eddie leaned back, pondering the idea. "It's risky, but it could work. Spielberg's notoriously protective of his script, but if anyone can sell this, it's you."

The early sunlight began to spill across the Hollywood Hills, casting golden hues over the city. Jake stared at the Disney contract, his future in animation secured. But Jurassic Park—that was his true challenge. A gamble that could either make him or break him.

6:45 AM PST

The Four Seasons Beverly Hills buzzed with activity as the morning energy began to unfold. Jake and Eddie made their way through the hotel lobby, their plans refined and polished to perfection.

Inside a private dining room, Steven Spielberg sat waiting, his iconic glasses catching the light. As he greeted them, his gaze was sharp, his mind ever calculating.

"Jake," Spielberg said, shaking his hand. "I've heard good things. Aladdin's performance has been impressive."

"Thank you, Mr. Spielberg. It's an honor to meet you," Jake replied, trying to keep his nerves in check.

After some pleasantries, Jake dove straight into his pitch.

"Mr. Spielberg, I've been thinking about Jurassic Park's appeal to younger audiences," Jake began. "What if we introduced a character who could speak to them? A young genius who sees the park in a way the adults miss."

Spielberg's expression shifted, his interest piqued. "Go on."

Jake quickly outlined Ethan Reyes's character, his role in the film, and how he would complement Dr. Grant's character as a reluctant mentor. By the time he finished, Spielberg was silent, steepling his fingers, clearly considering the idea.

"It's an intriguing concept," Spielberg admitted, but he was clearly cautious. "But rewriting the script at this point..."

Jake quickly countered. "Ethan wouldn't change the core story. He would add depth and layers to it, providing an additional perspective and appealing to the younger audience."

Eddie joined in, emphasizing the marketing potential. "Teenagers flock to Aladdin because of Jake. Imagine the same demographic connecting with Jurassic Park through Ethan."

Spielberg took a deep breath, clearly weighing the risks. "I'll need to discuss this with the team, but it's a bold idea. I like bold."

As Jake left the meeting, the system's voice chimed smugly in his mind:

[WELL PLAYED, PRETTY BOY. NOW LET'S SEE IF YOU CAN SURVIVE THE NEXT TASK.]

Jake couldn't help but smile. The game wasn't over—but for now, he had the upper hand.