Hollywood: Actor with equipment
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3 a.m.
Annie stared at her phone screen, finger hovering over the like button, but she didn't press it.
It was a fan tweet defending her: "Why does everyone always hate on Annie? She's a great actress, no scandals, her Oscar was well-deserved."
The top reply read: "Because she's too perfect. Unrealistically perfect. You know what I mean? Like that girl in class who always gets A's."
Annie smirked and tossed the phone onto the couch.
Perfect?
If she were truly perfect, she wouldn't be awake at 3 a.m. scrolling Twitter, reading strangers pick apart her personality flaws.
The living room lights were off. Only the laptop screen glowed, open to the Interstellar script.
She played Dr. Amelia Brand, a coldly rational astrophysicist willing to sacrifice everything for humanity's survival.
The lines were packed with terms like singularities, spacetime curvature, and five-dimensional space. She had to check Wikipedia three times just to follow along.
Sometimes she thought playing a scientist was easier than being an actress.
At least equations didn't talk shit behind your back.
The phone buzzed again.
Her agent Lisa's text: "Did you see the new Hollywood Reporter piece? They're analyzing why you took a pay cut for Nolan's movie. Want me to prep a response?"
Annie didn't answer.
She stood and walked to the window, looking out at the LA night.
At this hour, the distant freeway glowed with streaks of headlights.
This upscale neighborhood was quiet and safe, but it felt lonely as hell.
Five years ago it hadn't been like this.
Back then she had just started dating Raffaello Farieri.
Italian-American hedge fund guy. Handsome, charming, sent flowers and jewelry, took her to the best parties.
In the photos the media ran, she looked genuinely happy. Headlines called it "Anne Hathaway Finds True Love."
Then the FBI arrested him.
Fraud. Securities fraud. Money laundering.
Hundreds of millions on the line.
The day the news broke, Annie was on the set of Les Misérables.
She played Fantine, the broken woman forced to sell her hair and teeth.
After director Tom Hooper called cut, the assistant handed her the phone like it might explode. "Um, Annie… you might want to see this."
She sat in the makeup chair, staring at the photo of Farieri in handcuffs being led out of his office, mind completely blank.
The next day she released a statement: "Raffaello Farieri and I have ended our relationship. I'm shocked and saddened by recent events and will not be commenting further."
The comments came fast: "Of course she runs when it gets messy."
"Always knew she had bad taste."
"Bet she knew the whole time."
Annie turned off the comments and kept filming.
She poured every bit of that mess into Fantine.
The woman the world had thrown away, singing "I Dreamed a Dream" until her voice cracked.
On the last day of shooting, Tom Hooper hugged her. "People are going to remember you for this role."
He was right.
She won the Oscar, stood on stage crying like an idiot.
Then the internet tore her apart.
"Her speech was so fake."
"Those tears looked scripted."
"Can she just be normal for once?"
Looking back now, Annie realized that whole stretch had been one long Mercury retrograde.
From the day Farieri got arrested, everything started sliding sideways.
She won the award and got dragged. She did interviews and got called too calculated. She wore a dress and got mocked for trying too hard.
Sometimes she wanted to drag those random haters out and ask: What the hell did I actually do wrong? I'm just trying to act well.
The phone buzzed again.
This time a Twitter notification: "Anne Hathaway joins Interstellar. Netizens not impressed: Why would Nolan cast her?"
Annie clicked through.
The article had screenshots of comments: "She takes me right out of the movie."
"Nolan needs actresses with real presence. She's too soft."
"Heard she cut her fee by 30%. How desperate is she to ride Nolan's coattails?"
Annie took a slow breath and flipped the phone face-down on the table.
She had cut her fee. For the chance to work with Nolan.
Lisa had pushed back hard at the time: "Annie, you're an Oscar winner now. You raise your rate, you don't lower it."
Annie had told her: "I need a film that actually changes how people see me."
"Les Mis didn't do that?"
"It did. Just in the wrong direction."
Annie had looked at herself in the mirror and said it out loud: "They think I'm the sad-girl actress who gets dramatic after winning awards. I need something hard. Sci-fi. Physics. Saving the world."
Nolan's project had been perfect.
She'd worked with him twice before.
Once on The Dark Knight Rises, playing Catwoman.
Nolan had told her then: "You've got this vulnerability, but there's steel in your eyes. This role needs both."
Last month he'd met her in a Burbank café to talk Interstellar.
He showed her concept art on his tablet. "Amelia Brand is a scientist, but she's also human. She's torn between logic and emotion. That's what I want from you."
Annie had stared at the black-hole and wormhole designs and thought: This is way simpler than dealing with Twitter.
At least physics doesn't talk shit.
The laptop screen dimmed. Annie tapped it awake and opened Google.
She typed "Cassius."
Results flooded the page.
Green Lantern: Rise of the Azure Dragon breaking box-office records. The viral Hunger Games training camp video. Warner announcing him as the male lead in Interstellar. The endless "Big Cousin and Brother-in-Law" memes with Jennifer Lawrence.
Annie clicked an interview clip.
Cassius sat in front of the camera in a plain black T-shirt. The host asked: "As an Asian actor working in Hollywood, have you dealt with discrimination?"
Cassius smiled. "Yeah. But I think discrimination is like a barbell in the gym. If you can't lift it, it crushes you. If you lift it, it turns into muscle."
The host paused. "That's… an interesting way to put it."
"Truth," Cassius shrugged. "This business runs on talent and luck. All I can control is making myself heavy enough that people who try to push me have to work for it."
Annie hit pause.
She stared at the face on screen.
features, sharp bone structure, something magnetic about him.
Especially the eyes. Full of quiet confidence.
Even here, in a foreign country, he looked like nothing could touch him.
Annie opened another video.
A clip from 2 Broke Girls.
Cassius played an Asian restaurant owner doing coin tricks, delivering lines with a slight accent but perfect comic timing. The comments were full of "Who is this guy? He's hilarious."
Annie watched the coin trick three times.
She wasn't impressed by the sleight of hand. Plenty of actors could do that.
She was impressed by the ease.
Playing an Asian character in a sitcom and making it feel personal, making people laugh without trying too hard.
That wasn't easy.
She closed the video and went back to Twitter, searched his name.
Real-time tweets about Interstellar popped up: "Cassius + Anne Hathaway. Interesting pairing."
"Hoping Anne doesn't drag him down. Cassius's work is solid."
"Am I the only one shipping this?"
Annie gave a small, tired smile.
Drag him down?
An Oscar winner being told she'd drag down a TV actor.
This world really was something.
But she understood the appeal.
Cassius's story was different.
actor. Superhero movie. Rewrote the script. Made it work.
Audiences loved that kind of rule-breaker narrative.
Her story?
She was the girl who followed every rule and still succeeded.
Child star. Disney princess. Arthouse transition. Oscar win.
By the book. No scandals. No surprises.
Netizens didn't want perfect.
They wanted real.
Even if real came with cracks, mistakes, and the occasional public meltdown.
The phone buzzed again.
This time an email from Nolan's office: "Interstellar training schedule confirmed. December 3 at NASA Simulation Center. Please confirm availability."
Annie typed back: "Received."
She checked the calendar.
Today was November 28. Five days left.
In five days she would meet Cassius.
That actor who looked impressive in search results, relaxed in interviews, and hyped in Twitter threads.
She would act opposite him. Play partners fighting to survive in space.
In the script, Amelia Brand tells Cooper: "Love isn't something humans invented. It existed before us and will continue long after. Love is the only thing that can cross time and space."
Every time Annie read that line it felt a little cheesy.
But Nolan had insisted: "This is the emotional core."
Fine.
If love could cross time and space, maybe it could cross the Twitter comment section too.
Maybe it could make strangers stop talking shit about someone they'd never even met.
She didn't know.
Outside, the sky was starting to turn gray.
4 a.m. Los Angeles slowly waking up.
Annie closed the laptop, walked to the kitchen, and poured herself a glass of water.
A sticky note on the fridge caught her eye. Her own handwriting: "Do what you have to do. Let time speak."
She'd written that the day Farieri got arrested.
Five years later, time had said plenty.
It just didn't seem like anyone was really listening.
She took a sip. The cold water slid down her throat.
Training started in five days.
She would put on the spacesuit, step into the simulator, learn how to operate equipment in zero gravity.
Maybe in space everything would feel simpler.
No gravity pulling you down.
No comments making it hard to breathe.
The phone lit up again. Another Twitter push: "Anne Hathaway's silent response to Interstellar casting controversy — guilty conscience or just focused on prep?"
Annie turned the screen off without looking.
She walked back to the bedroom, lay down, and closed her eyes.
Right before sleep took her, one random thought drifted through her mind.
All that stuff Cassius learned on the Canadian farm — driving tractors, fixing irrigation systems.
Would any of that actually be useful in space?
Probably not.
Cassius flew back from Calgary to Los Angeles the next day, and Nolan's studio emails flooded his inbox.
Sender: Nolan Productions
Subject: Interstellar Training Schedule Confirmed
Content: NASA Simulation Training Center, December 3 – December 21.
All lead actors must attend.
Absentees will lose their roles.
Cassius stared at the last line and clicked his tongue.
Nolan really knew how to turn up the pressure.
The attachment was a thirty-page PDF titled "Basic Astronautics Course Outline."
Cassius opened it. The first page made his head hurt: "Lesson 1: Orbital Mechanics Fundamentals (Kepler's Laws, Hohmann Transfer Orbits, Orbital Decay)"
"Lesson 2: Microgravity Physiological Effects (Fluid Shift, Muscle Atrophy, Space Adaptation Syndrome)"
"Lesson 3: In-Cabin Operations (Airlock Cycle Procedures, Oxygen System Monitoring, CO2 Scrubbing)"
"Lesson 4: Spacesuit Operations (EMU vs IVA Suit Differences, Cooling Undergarment Use, Helmet Comm System)"
At the bottom in small print: "Instructors: Former NASA Engineer Dr. Robert Chandler, Former Mission Control Specialist Maria Soto."
Cassius rubbed his temples.
He'd thought two months of freezing his ass off learning to drive tractors and fix pumps in Canada was hardcore enough.
Now Nolan was basically saying: Bro, that was just the warm-up.
The phone rang. Rob.
"You see the email?"
"Yeah."
Cassius dropped onto the couch. "I rested one day. One single day. Just got back from twenty-below farms and now you want me to learn orbital mechanics?"
"Nolan's style. You know how he is."
Rob laughed on the other end. "He treats casting like special-ops selection. Throws everyone into extreme conditions first. Whoever survives gets to join the team."
"I'm so grateful."
"By the way, no phones or assistants allowed during training. NASA rule. Keeps everyone focused. You'll be staying in the dorms at the center."
Cassius closed his eyes. "Is it too late to quit?"
"Two-million-dollar breach fee."
"Then I guess I'm learning orbital mechanics."
December 3, Houston, NASA Johnson Space Center.
Cassius stood outside the training center entrance, staring up at the giant NASA logo.
Anne Hathaway had already arrived.
She wore a simple gray tracksuit, no makeup, hair pulled back in a ponytail, reading through a thick binder.
When she saw him she nodded. "Morning."
"Morning."
Cassius walked over. "You look wide awake."
"I got here last night."
Anne closed the binder. "You see the schedule? Orbital mechanics this morning. I prepped a little. The formulas could fill a whole cookbook."
Cassius smiled, feeling the shared pain. "You actually understood any of it?"
"Couldn't understand it, so I just kept reading."
She took a sip of coffee. "Nolan said if the actors don't get what their characters are doing, the audience won't either."
Cassius nodded.
Made sense.
At nine sharp, training began.
The instructor was former NASA engineer Robert Miller — mid-sixties, white hair, polo shirt and khakis, looked like a college professor.
But the second he opened his mouth, the room got serious.
"I'm Robert. Thirty years at NASA. Twenty shuttle missions."
He stood at the lectern, screen behind him. "Over the next three weeks I'm going to teach you the basics of spaceflight. But let's be clear — I'm not here to teach you how to act like astronauts. I'm here to make you astronauts. Even if we only have three weeks."
About a dozen people sat in the audience.
Cassius, Anne, the other actors playing astronauts, and key members of Nolan's team — cinematographer Hoyt van Hoytema, VFX supervisor Paul Franklin, production designer Nathan Crowley.
Nolan himself sat in the back row, notebook open.
"Lesson one: orbital mechanics."
Robert clicked to the next slide. "In simple terms, how to make one object orbit another without falling back or flying off into nothing."
An animation of Earth and a spaceship appeared.
"Most people think going to space means flying straight up as hard as you can. Higher is better."
"Wrong."
Robert pointed his laser at the orbit diagram. "What you actually need is speed, not height. Hit orbital velocity — 7.9 kilometers per second — and you stay in low Earth orbit. Below that, you fall back. Too far above it, you shoot off into space forever."
Cassius listened hard.
A couple of purple orbs dropped from Robert:
[Scientific Thinking +4]
[Logical Explanation +5]
Cassius absorbed them instantly.
The concepts that had been pure gibberish suddenly felt a little clearer.
The more Robert talked, the more Cassius realized how good the guy was.
He couldn't help wondering.
If he kept absorbing orbs like this, would he actually be able to fly into space someday?
"In your movie the ship crosses a wormhole to another galaxy."
Robert switched to the wormhole graphic. "Theoretically possible. But practically it's a nightmare. Wormholes might be unstable. Crossing one creates tidal forces strong enough to rip a ship — and everyone inside — apart."
Anne raised her hand. "So how does the movie solve it?"
"Artistic license."
Robert shrugged. "Director Nolan brought in Professor Kip Thorne as scientific consultant. He'll make sure your story doesn't break known physics."
"This is as far as Hollywood can push it."
Soft laughter moved through the room.
The morning theory session ran three hours.
Cassius filled seven pages of notes.
His head was packed with Hohmann transfers, gravity assists, and orbital decay.
During the break he went for coffee and bumped into Anne.
"How you holding up?" she asked.
"Harder than driving a tractor. At least tractors don't make you question the nature of the universe."
Anne knew about his time in Canada and covered a small laugh with her hand. "I was up until two last night just trying to wrap my head around spacetime curvature."
"You actually got it?"
"Couldn't understand it, so I kept reading."
She took a sip of coffee. "Nolan said if the actors don't understand what their characters are doing, the audience never will."
Cassius nodded.
Logic made sense.
Afternoon was practicals inside the simulator.
The simulator was a massive steel structure, interior built 1:1 like a real spacecraft cabin.
Control panels were covered in buttons, switches, and screens.
Robert led them inside and started explaining operations.
"This is the airlock control panel."
He pointed at a row of switches. "Going from inside to outside takes seven steps. Get the order wrong and you could vent the whole cabin or trap yourself outside."
Cassius looked at the labeled buttons: Main Valve, Backup Valve, Pressure Balance, Hatch Release.
"Pair up and practice."
Robert pointed at Cassius and Anne. "Cass, you and Anne are together. Everyone else split up."
Cassius and Anne stepped up to the panel.
"You go first. I'll note the steps."
Anne gave his arm a quick squeeze, signaling him to start.
Cassius followed Robert's sequence carefully.
First three steps went smooth. On the fourth his finger slipped and hit the wrong switch.
An alarm blared.
Just a simulation alarm, but loud and sharp.
Robert walked over, checked the panel. "Wrong order. If this were real, you'd have just vented half the cabin's air into space."
"Sorry," Cassius said.
"No apologies. Reset."
Robert's face stayed blank. "Real astronauts train on one mistake until it becomes muscle memory. Sometimes a hundred times."
Cassius started over.
This time he slowed down, confirming every step before he touched anything.
Anne whispered reminders beside him. "Next is pressure balance."
Seven steps done. The status light turned green.
"Pass."
Robert nodded. "Now Anne."
Anne was even more careful, but still hit the wrong switch on step six.
She took a deep breath and reset.
Second try, she passed.
Robert looked at both of them. "Remember — in space there's no 'close enough.' Either you're right or you're dead. You're filming a movie, but Nolan wants your work at professional level."
Training ran until 5 p.m.
By the end Cassius's head felt swollen and his fingers ached from hitting switches over and over.