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"I swear, my breakfast is doing laps in my stomach."
Annie gripped the simulator's handrail, face pale.
The harness suit felt too tight around her, wires suspending her in midair while the balance platform rotated slowly beneath her feet.
It was meant to mimic the floating sensation of entering microgravity on a spaceship.
After the basic astronautics course wrapped, they moved straight into spacesuit simulation training.
Cassius hung beside her, also suspended, but he looked far more relaxed.
He even tried a casual turn, the cables giving a faint creak.
"You okay?"
Cassius sounded concerned. Annie looked like she might puke, and that was pure biology—no amount of willpower could fix it.
"Not even close!"
Annie squeezed her eyes shut, eyebrows pinched. "Feels like I'm stuck in a washing machine."
Instructor Robert stood below, walkie in hand. "Annie, relax. Imagine you're floating in water. Don't fight the rotation."
"I'm fighting my stomach right now."
Annie muttered under her breath.
Cassius chuckled.
He adjusted his posture to stay steady.
Honestly, this training wasn't much of a challenge for him.
He'd already lived through the entire Interstellar dream instance as Cooper—from cornfields to the tesseract, driving ships and crossing wormholes.
All of this felt like review.
"Cass, your control is solid."
Robert looked up, surprised. "You practiced this before?"
"Some prior training."
Cassius kept it vague.
"Action scenes don't teach you this."
Robert hit a control. The platform sped up slightly.
"Mmm~"
Annie let out a low groan.
Cassius glanced over.
[Anne Hathaway favorability +2 — Current: 62]
Favorability went up?
Cassius blinked.
Was it because he'd stayed calm and made her feel safer?
Or was she just jealous he wasn't dizzy?
"Cass, how are you doing this?"
"You look like you're lounging on your own couch."
Annie cracked her eyes open and stared at him, a flicker of hope in her gaze.
Like she expected some magic trick to fix the nausea.
"Pretend you're on a merry-go-round. Except the horse is gone and it's just spinning."
"That metaphor sucks."
"Try this instead—every time you feel sick, picture Nolan's forehead wrinkling one more time. That face alone should motivate you."
Anne actually laughed. "You're such a dick."
[Anne Hathaway favorability +2 — Current: 64]
Up again.
Cassius filed it away.
Anne probably didn't get much teasing from people. That alone bumped the number.
Training paused for ten minutes.
They lowered to the ground. Anne bolted for the water cooler and downed half a bottle.
"Afternoon's gonna be worse."
She wiped her mouth, grimacing. "Underwater training in Vancouver. Pool's only twenty degrees and we have to wear the thirty-kilo mock spacesuit."
"Treat it like scuba diving."
Cassius shrugged like it was nothing.
"Of course it's easy for you."
Anne shot him a sideways look. "I saw the behind-the-scenes from Green Lantern. Those fight scenes—you hang from wires like it's breakfast. You got some secret Asian kung fu manual?"
"Yep."
Cassius said it dead serious. "The trick is: never say you can't when the director's still rolling."
Anne burst out laughing.
That was when Nolan walked over, tablet in hand, checking the data.
He glanced at Cassius. "Your balance test score was the highest."
"Lucky guess."
"Not luck."
Nolan scrolled. "Reaction time, spatial awareness, posture control—everything's near professional level. Robert said you even caught a small error in his procedure."
Cassius felt a tiny spike of worry.
Had he shown off too much?
Nolan didn't push. He just nodded, approving. "Keep it up. That's exactly what I need—Cooper's a pilot. The cockpit should feel like home to him."
[Christopher Nolan favorability +5 — Current: 58]
The director's numbers climbed.
Seemed like raw competence was the real currency with Nolan.
"Anne, your underwater session this afternoon gets extra reps."
Nolan turned to her. "Your floating posture still isn't natural. In space there's no up or down. Your body has to forget gravity exists."
"I'll work on it."
Anne said.
After Nolan left, she sighed. "I feel like I'm holding everyone back."
"You're fine. You've only had three days. If you nailed it already, NASA would be recruiting you."
Cassius smiled, reassuring.
"You're on day three too."
"I—"
Cassius stumbled for a second. "Maybe I have superpowers."
Afternoon training shifted to the underwater simulation area.
The pool was a massive facility—ten meters deep, with partial spaceship interior replicas on the bottom.
Actors had to wear weighted mock spacesuits and go under to practice spacewalks and external repairs.
Cassius stepped out in his gear and found Anne already warming up by the pool edge.
She spotted him and waved, complaining. "This suit weighs more than the prisoner outfit I wore in Les Mis."
"At least this one's worth more."
Cassius checked his oxygen valve. "Robert said one of these costs as much as a sports car."
"How do you know?"
"Robert told me. He also said break it and they dock it from your pay."
They were still chatting when a crew member walked over to inspect Cassius's equipment.
Mid-thirties white guy. Name tag read "Tech Team: James."
He checked everything carefully but stayed quiet the whole time, expression flat.
Cassius stared at him and froze.
The guy's favorability number floated right above his head.
Zero.
Zero?
That wasn't normal.
Strangers usually started around thirty. People he'd met before sat at forty or fifty.
Zero meant... what?
Hostility?
At least it wasn't negative. So he probably wasn't about to attack.
But Cassius had never seen this guy before today.
"Equipment's good."
James finally spoke, voice flat.
"Thanks."
Cassius acted like nothing was wrong.
James nodded and moved on to check Anne's gear.
Cassius watched his back, mind turning.
Underwater training started.
Cassius and Anne dropped in one after another. The instructor coached from the surface over comms.
"Anne, your right arm's too stiff. Think of it like pushing a floating box, not lifting bricks."
"Cass, you're moving too fast. In real space, quick movements cause uncontrolled spins."
Cassius slowed down.
He felt completely at home underwater.
The dream instance had thrown him into far worse.
He even had time to look around.
Through the visor he spotted James up top by the monitor screens, talking to another tech.
James glanced toward the pool while they spoke.
Even from below, Cassius could feel the look wasn't friendly.
No time to dwell. The instructor's voice crackled in his ear. "Cass, you got a buoyancy issue? Data shows you're sinking."
Cassius adjusted. "No, I'm good—"
He didn't finish.
A sudden tightness hit his chest.
Like someone had wrapped plastic wrap over his face. Every breath pulled in thinner and thinner air.
Cassius glanced at the gauge on his left arm.
The oxygen reading was dropping fast—80% to 70%, then 60%.
Red warning lights started flashing.
"What the hell?"
Cassius tapped the gauge. "Instructor, my oxygen's leaking."
"Leak? How much?"
The instructor's voice sharpened.
"Forty-five percent—still falling."
"Surface immediately. Anne, you too. Training's suspended."
Cassius hit the ascent button.
Nothing.
He hit it again.
Still nothing.
The valve that should have released bubbles to lift him stayed completely dead.
"Ascent system failure."
Cassius kept his voice steady. "I can't surface."
"My side's—"
Anne's voice cut in over comms, shaky, close to tears. "My ascent system's jammed too, but my oxygen's full."
Cassius turned toward her.
Through the visor he saw her eyes wide.
She gestured at her own ascent button and shook her head.
Both systems failing at once?
"Instructor, we're both stuck. Request assistance ascent."
The surface had turned chaotic—running footsteps, shouts, equipment clanging.
Rescue divers were already suiting up.
Cassius checked his gauge again: 30%.
At this rate he had maybe three minutes.
"Cass, you still with me?"
Anne swam a little closer. "Your oxygen—"
"Still enough."
Cassius cut her off. "Don't move around. Save your air. Rescue's coming down now."
He sounded calm, but his brain was racing.
He'd lived through worse emergencies as Cooper in the instance.
Options flashed through his mind.
He could try manual override on the valve, but he had no tools.
He swam over to the ascent unit and started inspecting the jammed valve.
The mechanism was simple—just seized.
If he had a pry bar it would be easy.
Right now his hands were empty.
Gauge: 20%.
"Cass?"
Anne's voice trembled through the mic.
"I'm here."
Cassius kept working the valve. "Anne, do me a favor. Check your right side for a small tool pouch—about palm-sized."
Anne felt around. "Got it."
"Should be a hex wrench inside. Toss it over."
A silver tool drifted lazily toward him.
Cassius caught it, slotted it into the maintenance port, and pried hard.
"Click!"
A soft snap.
The valve loosened.
Bubbles started rushing out. He felt himself rising slowly.
"It worked!"
Anne's voice brightened with relief.
But Cassius didn't relax.
His gauge read 15%.
Even rising, it would take a full minute to reach the surface. That might not be enough air.
And Anne was still stuck down here.
Cassius stopped ascending and turned back toward her instead.
"What are you doing? Your oxygen's almost gone!"
"Fixing your valve."
Cassius had already reached her. "We surface together. Faster than me going up and sending someone back down."
Truth was, he didn't trust leaving her alone with James still up there.
He kept that part to himself.
Anne hesitated, then turned her back to him. "Valve's right here. I couldn't budge it."
Cassius leaned in to check.
Same design as his—completely seized.
He slotted the wrench into the port and pried.
Nothing.
He put more force into it.
Still locked.
"Seized solid."
"What now?"
Cassius glanced at his gauge: 8%.
His mind spun.
Cooper had survived worse in the instance.
Ship venting, all systems dark—he'd still made it back to Earth on manual.
"Turn around. Let me see the side."
Cassius slipped into full Cooper mode.
Anne rotated without question.
Cassius spotted a tiny manual vent switch on the side, sealed under a thin layer of waterproof glue.
He peeled the glue off and pressed the switch.
"Hiss!"
A small stream of bubbles escaped. The valve eased a fraction.
Still not enough.
"Hold this switch down for me."
Cassius guided Anne's hand to it. "Press hard. Don't let go."
He went back to prying the main valve with the wrench.
"Cass—"
Anne spoke suddenly.
"Yeah?"
"Why'd you come back for me first?"
Cassius kept working. "What else? Leave you down here while I surface and wait for rescue? That could take forever."
"But your oxygen—"
"So we both need to move fast."
Anne went quiet.
Cassius could feel her hand shaking on the switch.
Gauge: 5%.
A low buzzing started in his ears—early hypoxia.
Cassius clenched his jaw and poured every ounce of strength into the wrench.
Water resistance turned every motion into slow motion, but he couldn't stop.
"Click!"
The valve finally gave.
Bubbles exploded outward. Anne's body began rising.
"It worked!"
Her voice cracked with emotion.
Cassius had no time to celebrate.
His gauge hit 3%. Vision started tunneling.
"Cass?"
Anne's voice sounded distant.
He felt someone grab his arm.
Anne.
She'd stopped her own ascent and come back for him.
Then she did something that made him freeze.
She popped her own visor open, yanked the breathing mouthpiece off her valve, and shoved it straight toward his face.
Through the glass he could see her eyes—nervous, but steady underneath.
His first thought: She didn't even disinfect this thing before shoving it in my mouth!
His second: I'm about to die. Who cares?
He leaned in, sealed his lips around the mouthpiece, and took a deep breath.
Fresh oxygen flooded his lungs. His head cleared instantly.
"You—"
He pulled back, about to say something.
"Shut up."
Anne jammed the mouthpiece back into her own mouth, took two quick breaths, then offered it to him again. "Take turns. We just have to hold until rescue gets here."
The whole scene was ridiculous.
Two people in heavy spacesuits underwater, sharing one oxygen mouthpiece like they were passing contraband.
But when you're that close to running out of air, nobody gives a damn about hygiene.
Cassius took another breath, then pointed upward.
Rescue divers were almost on them.
Anne nodded, one hand on her own ascent controls, the other gripping Cassius's arm.
They started rising together.
Ten meters. Eight. Five—
Light grew brighter.
Cassius stole one last look at his gauge: 1%.
Then they broke the surface.
The pool deck had turned into controlled chaos.
Robert and the instructors hauled them out, fumbling to strip the gear.
Nolan stood nearby, face like thunder.
"What the hell happened?"
Nolan's voice was ice.
"Both ascent systems failed at once."
Robert checked Cassius's rig. "Plus an oxygen leak. Odds are way too low for coincidence."
"Sabotage?"
Nolan asked.
"Not sure. We'll investigate."
Cassius sat on the deck, breathing hard.
Anne knelt beside him, hair plastered to her face, also gasping.
Medics swarmed in to check them.
"I'm fine. Just a little hypoxic."
Cassius waved them off.
"You almost died. Your oxygen was down to one percent."
Anne looked at him, eyes full of gratitude and worry.
If he hadn't come back for her, she probably wouldn't have made it until rescue arrived.
"Hey, you were there too."
Cassius managed a crooked grin. "Thanks, by the way. Next time maybe disinfect the mouthpiece first?"
Anne stared, then laughed. "Seriously? That's what you're thinking about right now?"
[Anne Hathaway favorability +10 — Current: 74]
Ten points in one jump.
Apparently sharing a breathing mask counted as a major event in the favorability system.
Cassius scanned the deck, looking for James.
The guy was gone.
"Where's that tech guy—James?"
He asked Robert.
"James?"
Robert frowned. "Which James?"
"Guy on tech team. Name tag said James. Mid-thirties, white."
Robert looked around at the crew and shook his head. "No one by that name. Tech team today had four people—John, David, Lisa, Carlos. No James."
Cassius stared at the list on Robert's tablet.
No James anywhere.
"You sure?"
"Positive. I have the roster right here."
Cassius kept staring at the screen.
No James.
"Training's suspended for today."
Nolan's face still looked shaken.
If two of his stars had actually died on set, his career would be finished.
"All equipment gets sealed and inspected. No more underwater work until we find the cause."
He looked at Cassius and Anne. "You two go rest. Tomorrow we continue with the tilting studio session as planned."
The next morning Cassius ran into Anne in the cafeteria.
Dark circles under her eyes.
"Didn't sleep?"
Cassius set his tray down.
"Had a nightmare."
Anne poked at her scrambled eggs. "Dreamed we were stuck at the bottom of the pool. Oxygen gone. That guy James standing on the surface laughing at us."
"Your dreams are very cinematic."
Cassius took a bite of toast. "Don't worry. Nolan added extra security. No strangers getting in."
"Why do you think he targeted us?"
Anne kept her voice low. "My gear only had the ascent system jammed. Yours got both systems messed with."
Cassius had been wondering the same thing.
If it was just a prank, they wouldn't have gone far enough to almost kill someone.
If it was aimed at him—
He hadn't made many enemies in Hollywood.
After breakfast they headed to the tilting studio.
This session was designed to simulate the disorientation of five-dimensional space.
The studio had a massive rotating platform with partial spaceship interior sets built on it.
The platform could tilt up to sixty degrees and spin slowly.
Instructor was a young woman named Catherine, talking a mile a minute.
"Today's exercise is simple. Complete the assigned tasks while the platform tilts."
She pointed at several marked spots. "Walk from A to B, pick up the prop crate, carry it to C. Platform will tilt and rotate the whole time. You have to adapt to the shifting sense of direction."
"Sounds easier than underwater."
Anne muttered beside him.
First round—fifteen-degree tilt.
Cassius went first.
He stepped onto the platform. It felt like walking on a slope, but he kept his balance.
Reached A, grabbed the crate.
It was empty but convincingly heavy.
Carried it to C. Done.
"Not bad."
Catherine checked the timer. "Anne, you're up."
Anne stepped on. The platform started its slow rotation.
Halfway across she nearly fell, catching herself on the wall.
"Don't look at your feet," Cassius called from below. "Pick a fixed point in the distance."
Anne did it and steadied herself.
[Anne Hathaway favorability +2 — Current: 76]
Practical advice apparently worked better than teasing.
Second round—thirty-degree tilt.
This time Cassius felt like he was on a rolling ship. He had to constantly shift his center of gravity.
At A he grabbed the crate.
The platform suddenly accelerated its spin.
"Steady!"
Catherine shouted.
Cassius hugged the crate to his chest and braced his back against the wall until the spin slowed, then kept moving.
When he finished, he checked Catherine's timer—ten seconds over the limit.
"Acceptable."
Catherine said. "But Nolan may want faster pacing during actual filming."
"Got it."
Anne went next. The tilt was steeper.
Halfway through the crate slipped from her hands.
"Reset!"
Catherine hit the controls.
Second try, Anne made it, but she came down drenched in sweat.
"This is worse than wire work. At least with wires you know which way is up."
Anne wiped her face.
"That's the whole point."
Catherine said. "In the five-dimensional scenes there's no up or down. Every direction is relative. Your bodies have to learn to handle that kind of confusion."
Ten-minute break.
Cassius and Anne sat on a bench by the studio, drinking water.
"How do you think Nolan will shoot those scenes?"
Anne asked.
"Knowing him, it'll be practical. This rotating platform is probably just prep. Actual filming will use something way more complex."
"I heard he's building a full 360-degree rotating set."
Anne lowered her voice. "Actors will actually be inside it. No heavy CGI."
"People are gonna puke their guts out."
"That's why we're training now."
Third round—forty-five-degree tilt.
Cassius stepped on and realized there weren't even handrails this time.
The combination of steep tilt and spin made him fight for every step.
At A the platform suddenly reversed direction and almost threw him off.
A purple orb dropped from him:
[Balance +4]
Cassius absorbed it instantly.
He stabilized, grabbed the crate.
The platform started bucking up and down, simulating the ship shaking while crossing the wormhole.
Cassius tucked the crate under one arm and half-walked, half-climbed to C.
Done.
He checked Catherine's timer—still a few seconds over.
"Improving."
Catherine noted. "But real shooting might demand even tighter timing."
Anne went next.
The tilt was even more extreme.
She made it halfway before the crate slipped again.
"Reset!"
Second attempt she completed it, but came down soaked.
"This is brutal."
Anne panted.
Cassius handed her a water bottle. "You're doing fine. Most people would have quit by now."
[Anne Hathaway favorability +2 — Current: 78]
She took the bottle, fingers brushing his.
"Thanks. For yesterday. And for not making me feel like dead weight today."
"Just returning the favor."
Cassius smiled. "You saved my ass with that mouthpiece. Figured I owed you one."
Anne laughed softly, but her eyes stayed serious.
"Still. You came back for me when you could've saved yourself."
"Wouldn't have been much of a rescue if I'd left you down there."
Cassius kept his tone light, but the memory of that 1% oxygen reading still sat heavy in his chest.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the studio humming around them.
Cassius glanced at the platform. The next round would push sixty degrees.
He was ready.
Anne nudged his shoulder. "Don't die on me again, okay?"
"Deal."
He bumped her shoulder back.
[Anne Hathaway favorability +3 — Current: 81]
The number kept climbing.
Cassius didn't mind at all.