Anne Hathaway?
It matched the cast from his memory of Interstellar.
"Just got the official notice from Nolan's studio," Rob continued. "Anne signed the contract. She's playing Professor Brand's daughter, Amelia Brand—the scientist who goes into space with you. She was in Nolan's Batman movies before."
Anne Hathaway. Oscar winner for Best Supporting Actress.
She could do both blockbusters and indie films, and audiences loved her.
Her joining meant Interstellar's cast had reached the highest level.
"Any other news from Nolan's side?" Cassius asked.
"Training prep is moving up on the schedule."
"Anne's doing the training too?"
"Of course. All the astronaut actors have to go through it. Her workload might be lighter than yours, though—your role has more hands-on spaceship scenes."
Cassius nodded.
That made sense.
After hanging up, Cassius tossed the towel onto the couch and picked up his phone to scroll through the news.
Online, the story about Anne Hathaway joining Nolan's new movie had already exploded.
The Hollywood Reporter's front page read: "Nolan Locks in Hathaway! Female Lead Confirmed, Oscar Winner Joins Sci-Fi Epic."
The comment section was already a war zone.
"Anne? Seriously? Hasn't she played the perfect princess enough?"
"Commenter above, she just won an Oscar. Problem with her acting?"
"Come on, she tries too hard. Every award speech sounds like she rehearsed it a hundred times."
Cassius scrolled, clicking his tongue.
He remembered how he'd felt seeing this news in his previous life.
Right now Anne was in a weird place.
She'd just swept awards season with her role as Fantine in Les Misérables and won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress—then the backlash hit hard.
A flood of Anne haters appeared online, calling her fake, try-hard, too desperate to please everyone—
There was even a dedicated hashtag #HateAnneHathaway that could fill pages on Twitter.
Cassius remembered this phase.
Back then he'd been confused—how could an actress with solid talent, good projects, and no real scandals get torn apart just for winning an Oscar?
Now he understood.
Hollywood was a strange place.
Sometimes audiences didn't need a reason. They just didn't like you.
Especially someone with Anne's "good student" image.
Never had a bad hair day, no scandals, steady improvement in her craft—it made some people think she wasn't real.
Like you had to fall down, ruin your image, hit rock bottom before you deserved success.
"Perfection itself is a sin."
Cassius muttered and kept scrolling.
Variety's coverage was more detailed: "Sources say Hathaway signed on to Interstellar for around $8.5 million, below her usual rate. Insiders claim she adjusted her fee to secure the chance to work with Nolan—this marks her second collaboration with him after Batman—"
Cassius raised an eyebrow.
$8.5 million?
For a $165 million sci-fi epic, that wasn't actually high.
Compare that to Robert Downey Jr. pulling $50 million plus backend on Iron Man 3 back in the day.
But Anne had just won an Oscar. Her commercial value was rising. Choosing to take less to do this role showed how much she wanted it.
Made sense. Who wouldn't want to work with Nolan?
His phone buzzed again.
This time it was a text from Kristen: "Saw the news. Anne Hathaway. You lucky bastard."
Followed by an eye-roll emoji.
Cassius smiled and replied, "What, jealous?"
"Jealous my ass. I'm warning you—her reputation's in the toilet right now. Media's gonna eat this up. You've got a ton of scenes with her. Watch out for collateral damage."
"Got it. Thanks for the heads-up, Teacher Kristen."
"Pfft! Just wait till I get home. You're in for it!"
They texted back and forth until Kristen had to head back to set.
The next morning Rob showed up at the door.
"Brought you breakfast." He set a paper bag on the table. "And a stack of papers to sign."
Cassius yawned as he came out of the bedroom. "This early?"
"Early? The media's practically camped outside your building."
Rob pulled out coffee and a bagel. "Warner just issued the official announcement. Every entertainment outlet is talking about the Interstellar casting. Guess what the focus is?"
"Anne's salary?"
"That's part of it. But the real headline—"
Rob opened his tablet and pulled up an article. "Nolan Once Again Casts an Oscar-Level Actress. They're comparing you and Anne to Leonardo and Marion Cotillard from Inception."
Cassius took the tablet and scanned it.
The piece had some real substance.
Nolan did have a habit of casting Oscar winners in key supporting roles.
The Dark Knight had Halle Berry (though her scenes got cut), Inception had Marion Cotillard, The Dark Knight Rises had both Anne Hathaway and Marion Cotillard.
Now for Interstellar, the male lead was him—freshly nominated for Best Supporting Actor—and the female lead was Anne, fresh off her Oscar win.
"Media says you're riding the Oscar wave."
Rob took a bite of his bagel. "I suggest you don't respond. Let them stir the pot."
"I wasn't planning to."
Cassius sipped his coffee and grabbed a bagel.
This thing was nowhere near as good as a steamed bun!
"When does training start?"
"Not for a while yet."
"Nolan rented a NASA simulation center. All actors with space scenes have to go—two weeks of basic training, then specialized stuff based on the role."
Rob pulled out his schedule. "Your character Cooper's a pilot, so you'll be learning basic spaceship controls. It's all simulators, but Nolan wants it as real as possible."
"What about Anne?"
"Her role's a scientist, so the focus is spacewalks and operating equipment in zero-g. Oh—and—"
Rob suddenly lowered his voice. "Quick heads-up—Anne might be a little sensitive right now."
"Because of the online hate?"
"You heard about that?"
Rob sighed. "Her team's on high alert. Last interview, a reporter asked how she felt about the online criticism and she almost cried on camera. So during filming, try not to bring it up."
Cassius nodded.
He understood.
Acting was a brutal job. The pressure was enormous, especially for women.
Looks, age, body, private life, politics—even laughing too loud could get you dragged.
Anne just had the bad luck of hitting the social media era at full force. Any negative emotion got amplified into a "persona collapse."
"On the bright side," Rob suddenly grinned, "how's it feel working opposite an Oscar winner?"
"What do you think? I'll act the way I always do."
Cassius shrugged. "She's not growing an extra hand just because she won an Oscar."
"Your attitude's solid."
Rob packed up his tablet. "Oh, one more thing—Hunger Games 2 promo season is coming up. You'll need to do a few appearances. I'll try to schedule them around your Interstellar training."
"What about Jennifer?"
"Her team already reached out. They want you and her on Jimmy Kimmel Live together. The 'Big Cousin and Brother-in-Law' bit is still pretty hot."
Cassius rubbed his forehead.
That joke was never going away.
"Fine. You set it up."
Cassius accepted his fate.
Promo season was only a few months. He could survive it.
When the plane touched down in Calgary, Cassius thought he'd landed on the set of some post-apocalyptic movie.
Outside the window was nothing but gray and yellow.
November in Alberta—the prairie grass was dead, and the distant Rocky Mountains' snowcaps glowed coldly under the overcast sky.
Temperature: minus fifteen Celsius. The wind hit his face like knives.
The production had told him to come here first to experience a farmer's life before the main training.
—Damn, it was cold!
No wonder Rob had nagged him to pack extra layers.
Cassius stomped his feet.
"Welcome to the Canadian breadbasket."
The production assistant who picked him up was also stomping and rubbing his hands. "If you think it's cold here, wait till we get to the farm. It drops to minus twenty out there."
Cassius zipped his down jacket up to his chin. "Where's Director Nolan?"
"London, finishing final prep. He wants you to get here early and learn how to be a real farmer from the owner."
The assistant started the car. "Oh, and you're not staying in a hotel. You'll be in the farm workers' quarters. Director said he wants you to experience authentic farm life."
Cassius's mouth twitched.
Perfect.
Very Nolan.
The farm was in central Alberta, three hours' drive from Calgary.
The farther they drove, the emptier it got. Phone signal dropped from full bars to one, then disappeared completely.
Cassius stared out at the endless prairie. Scattered farmhouses and silos dotted the horizon under a heavy sky.
"They grow corn here?"
He couldn't help asking.
In his memory, corn didn't belong in weather this cold.
"Theoretically, no."
The assistant explained. "Corn's a warm-weather crop. We're at 50 degrees north—winters can hit minus fifty. But Nolan wants exactly this effect. The world's so messed up that even the coldest places can only grow corn. Gives it that end-of-the-world feeling."
Cassius got it.
This was about feeling true despair.
The farm owner was named John—sixties, ruddy face, wearing muddy work overalls.
When he shook Cassius's hand, it felt like gripping sandpaper.
"Actor? Here to learn how to farm?"
John looked him over, clearly skeptical. "You with your soft hands—think you can handle it?"
"We'll see."
Cassius didn't overpromise.
He'd never dealt with cold like this before.
John laughed. "Alright. But let's be clear—I don't do Hollywood nonsense around here."
"Up at five, in the fields by six. Tractor, combine, irrigation system—you'll learn to run all of it. You get hurt, you're on your own. First aid kit's in the barn."
"Understood."
The workers' quarters were a small wooden cabin—one bed, a stove, a table.
No internet. Just an old radio.
Cassius dropped his luggage by the bed and checked his phone.
No signal.
Perfect. Completely cut off from the world.
On the first day, Cassius was woken at five by John knocking.
"Up! Sun's coming up!"
Cassius struggled out of bed. It was still dark outside. Temperature: minus eighteen.
He layered on every warm piece of clothing he had and followed John out to the yard.
"This is your tractor."
John slapped the side of a red machine. "John Deere 6250R. Two hundred horsepower. Today we start with the basics."
Cassius stared at the forest of levers and pedals. It looked harder than learning to fly a spaceship.
"Left foot clutch, right foot brake, this is the hydraulic lift for the implements, this is the PTO switch—"
John explained, his breath fogging in the air.
Cassius climbed into the cab.
The seat was freezing. The steering wheel was ice against his palms.
He tried starting it. The tractor rumbled to life, shaking the entire cab.
"Now drive it over to that field."
John shouted over the noise, pointing into the distance.
The engine was so loud you had to yell to be heard.
Cassius let out the clutch. The tractor lurched forward and almost stalled.
"Easy! You think this is a sports car?"
John yelled again.
It took half an hour before Cassius could keep the tractor moving in a straight line.
[Street Vehicle Offense & Defense Instinct] did absolutely nothing here.
Fair enough.
This tractor didn't belong on any street.
John hopped into the passenger seat. "Now let's hook up the implement. See that plow? Back up and line up the connection points."
Parallel parking was easier than this.
Cassius missed the connection three times. John finally jumped down and did it by hand.
"Alright, not bad for day one."
He secured the plow. "Now start plowing."
The tractor dragged the plow into the field.
Cassius watched in the rearview mirror as the earth turned over, revealing deep brown soil.
Wind kicked up dirt that splattered across the windshield, turning the view hazy.
[Tractor Driving Technique +1]
A gray attribute orb dropped from him.
He blinked.
This could drop orbs too?
Cassius absorbed it instantly.
He felt his understanding of tractor operation deepen. The constantly vibrating steering wheel started to feel more familiar in his hands.
By noon Cassius's back and waist were screaming.
John called a break. They sat on the edge of the field eating sandwiches.
"Your production team really knows how to pick locations."
John took a bite of bread. "This land used to be for grazing. Getting permission to plant corn took months—the Canadian Department of Agriculture said we were damaging the prairie ecosystem."
"They approved it?"
"They did. Warner threw money at it."
John sipped coffee from a thermos. "But they weren't wrong. The native prairie here is a threatened ecosystem. Large-scale corn planting isn't exactly regulation-friendly."
Cassius looked at the freshly turned earth.
In the distance, the Rockies' outline. Up close, the dead yellow prairie grass.
Planting corn where it had no business growing—just for a movie.
Kind of ironic.
"Afternoon we're learning the irrigation system."
"We're short on water out here. Gotta pump from underground. You know how to fix pipes?"
"No."
"By the end of today you will."
For the next two weeks, Cassius lived like a real farmer.
Up at five to check equipment.
In the fields by six—either driving the tractor or running the combine.
Quick lunch, then afternoon repairs.
Irrigation pump broke—fix it. Tractor tire flat—patch it. Barn door hinge loose—tighten it.
Calluses formed on his hands fast. His face got windburned. He lost five pounds.
But the attribute orbs dropped steadily.
[Endurance +2]
[Hands-On Ability +3]
[Mechanical Understanding +1]
Mostly gray and green orbs, but they added up.
Cassius noticed that when he truly mastered a skill, the orb quality went up.
On day three he fixed the irrigation pump on his own and a purple orb dropped from John: [Fault Diagnosis +5].
"You pick things up fast, kid."
John looked surprised. "You farm before?"
"No. But I learn quick."
With the system panel, his learning speed was way above normal.
John showed him once—he got seventy to eighty percent.
By week two he could operate most of the equipment independently and even help John with basic repairs.
At night Cassius lit the stove in the cabin for warmth.
No internet, so he listened to country music on the radio or read the farm management manual John had given him.
The manual covered Alberta's agricultural regulations—land use permits, water management, environmental protection requirements.
Cassius's head hurt. Filming a movie was way easier than farming.
Whenever he got a signal, a few texts would come through.
Kristen: "Still alive? Saw your Instagram tractor pics. Lookin' good."
Jennifer: "Heard you're playing farmer in Canada? Teach me how to drive a tractor next time we meet."
Dakota: "Stay warm. It's freezing up there."
Cassius replied to each one, then went back to the manual.
In the third week Nolan arrived.
The director stood on the edge of the field in a thick down jacket, looking out over the endless prairie.
The corn had been planted.
Even though everyone knew it was the wrong season and latitude for corn to grow well, the production had planted it anyway.
Extra fertilizer, careful management—eventually it would grow, just slower.
"How's it going?" Nolan asked.
"Cold and exhausting. I'm basically a farmer now."
Cassius joked.
"That's exactly what I wanted."
Nolan looked toward the horizon. "CGI can't fake this kind of reality. I need real wind, real dust, real pressure. The actors have to actually know how to farm, or the camera will spot the lie in one shot."
Cassius nodded.
He understood the logic.
Nolan's films were powerful because of that obsessive commitment to truth.
"Your training with Anne is scheduled for December."
"NASA simulators, zero-g environment training. But before that, you need to get the feel of being a farmer into your body. Cooper isn't just a pilot—he's a farmer trying to survive the end of the world. That exhaustion and desperation—you have to bring it."
"Got it."
Nolan stayed for one afternoon and left.
Before he went, he pointed toward the distant mountains. "See those snow-capped peaks? When we shoot, they'll be the background. No post-production needed. Real locations like this—Alberta's prairie landscape is one of a kind in North America."
Cassius followed his finger.
The plains stretched to the horizon, suddenly cut off by the mountains.
Gray-yellow prairie. White snowcaps. Cold blue sky.
CGI really couldn't capture that kind of vastness.
That night Cassius had a dream.
In it he was driving the combine through the cornfield, but the corn never ended.
The sky was dark red. A dust storm rolled in from the distance.
He pushed forward, but the combine suddenly broke down.
He jumped down to fix it. His hand got cut on a part, blood dripping onto the dirt.
Then he woke up.
The fire in the stove was almost out. The cabin was freezing.
Cassius got up to add wood and checked his phone.
3 a.m.
He couldn't sleep. He pulled on clothes and stepped outside.
The stars were terrifyingly bright.
No light pollution. The Milky Way stretched across the sky like a river of diamonds.
Temperature: minus twenty. His breath froze instantly.
Cassius walked over to the tractor and touched the icy metal.
In a month he'd be filming here.
One day a farmer, the next day putting on a spacesuit and heading into space.
The disconnect felt… interesting.