Cassius finally processed what he was seeing.
Matt Damon was playing Dr. Mann in Interstellar—the scientist who'd spent years alone on the icy planet.
A pure scientist willing to murder his own crew for his ideals.
He hadn't expected Matt to join training this early.
"So you're the secret weapon?"
"Secret suffering is more like it."
Matt gave a tired smile. "I spent two weeks in Alaska. Almost lost a couple toes."
Olaf handed Matt a set of training gear. "You're doing the test with them."
"Got it."
The three of them started suiting up.
Matt moved with practiced ease—he'd clearly done this many times already.
"What were you training in Alaska?"
Anne sounded curious.
"Pretty much the same stuff—cold endurance, ice walking, and—"
Matt paused. "Isolation tolerance."
"What?"
"Dr. Mann waited twenty-three years alone on that planet."
Matt fastened his crampons. "Nolan had me stay in a remote cabin in Alaska for ten days. No internet. No one to talk to. Just a recorder to log scientific observations."
"Sounds like a reality show."
Cassius tried to imagine it. If he had to do that alone, he'd probably lose his mind.
When you're truly by yourself, time stops meaning anything.
A single day stretches into forever.
"Worse than a reality show. At least those have cameras on you. I didn't even have that."
Matt shuddered like he was reliving those dark days.
Gear check finished. Olaf hit the timer.
"Go!"
The three of them stepped onto the glacier.
The first stretch was flat ice covered in a thin layer of snow—slick as hell.
Cassius took the lead, using his ice axe to probe ahead.
"Crevasse usually form where the glacier flow changes speed."
He explained as they walked. "See those wavy patterns in the ice? That's a warning sign."
"Where'd you learn all this?"
Matt looked genuinely interested.
He'd never met Cassius before, only heard about the new actor who'd just gotten an Oscar nomination.
Running into him for the first time out here in the middle of nowhere felt surreal—almost like the scene where Cooper and Mann finally meet in the movie.
The coincidence was oddly fitting.
"Coaches taught me some of it. The rest I figured out on my own."
In reality, he'd absorbed the [Glacier Terrain Identification +4] orb that had dropped from Olaf earlier.
About a kilometer in, they hit the first crevasse.
It wasn't wide—only half a meter—but it dropped straight into darkness.
"Jump or go around?"
Anne turned to Cassius.
After weeks of training she'd started treating him like the default leader. When in doubt, ask Cassius.
"Go around. Safety first."
Cassius checked the GPS. "It adds two hundred meters, but we've got time."
They followed the edge until they found a narrower spot and stepped across.
As Cassius crossed, he glanced down into the crevasse.
Pure black. Bone-deep cold. Like it could swallow light itself.
The next obstacle was a thirty-degree ice slope, smooth as glass.
"How do we get up?" Anne asked.
"Kick the crampons in and take it one step at a time."
Cassius demonstrated.
He drove the front points of his crampons into the ice, tested the hold, then moved up.
Matt and Anne followed.
Halfway up, Anne's crampon slipped.
"Ah!"
She started sliding, ice axe scraping a white line down the slope.
Cassius reacted instantly—one hand grabbed the fixed rope, the other caught the strap on Anne's pack.
"Hold on!"
Anne kicked a few times until she found solid purchase again.
"Thanks—"
She was breathing hard.
"No problem. Keep going."
[Anne Hathaway favorability +1 — Current: 85]
At the top they rested for two minutes.
From here the entire glacier stretched out in front of them—white ice running to the horizon, black volcanic rock scattered like ink drops, sky that unique Icelandic gray-blue.
"This place really does look alien."
Matt sounded like he'd finally found the location where his character had hibernated.
"Pretty sure that's exactly why Nolan picked Iceland for training."
Cassius took a sip of water and looked out at the endless white.
Just the three of them out here. A strange, quiet loneliness settled over him.
"He's right."
Matt stared at the distance. "When I was in Alaska I used to stand on the ice and zone out, wondering what it would actually feel like to be alone on another planet."
"What did it feel like?"
"First freedom. Then fear. Then numbness—"
Matt paused. "That's from the character bible I wrote."
"Dr. Mann waited twenty-three years. From hope to despair to doing whatever it took to survive. That progression has to feel earned."
Anne listened closely. "So you practiced being alone on purpose."
"Yeah. Ten days isn't much, but the isolation felt real. By day ten I was talking to the recorder for two straight hours just because I hadn't spoken to anyone in so long."
Cassius thought back to his time on the Canadian farm.
Even when it was exhausting, at least there were other people around.
True isolation meant having no one to talk to at all.
Break over. They kept moving.
The last two kilometers were downhill and easier.
But Cassius could feel his energy draining.
Forty kilos wasn't a joke. Every step cost something.
He adjusted his breathing.
A blue orb dropped from him:
[Endurance Control +3]
He absorbed it instantly.
The fatigue eased a little.
Matt and Anne were both sucking wind now.
Every step came with heavy panting.
Matt watched Cassius still moving steady and shook his head. "Your stamina is ridiculous. We've been walking forever and you're barely breathing hard."
The final five hundred meters. Olaf waited at the finish line, waving them in.
They picked up the pace and practically ran across the line.
The timer stopped at 1 hour 28 minutes.
"Under the limit!"
Olaf logged the times. "Cass 1:27, Anne 1:29, Matt 1:30. All solid."
They dropped their gear and sat on the ice, catching their breath.
Matt's assistant brought hot drinks and energy bars.
"How long have you two been training?"
Matt took a long pull from his thermos.
"Three weeks!"
Anne sipped her drink in small careful sips.
They ate and talked like they were on a camping trip.
Matt trained with them for three more days before Iceland training officially wrapped.
The base threw a small farewell party.
Instructors, guides, medics—about twenty people gathered in the dining hall.
Olaf opened a bottle of local Icelandic liquor and poured everyone a small glass.
"To the ice. To the training. To the fact that none of us actually froze to death before we started shooting."
Everyone laughed and clinked glasses.
Cassius took a sip and immediately winced.
It tasted like straight ethanol.
Compared to baijiu, this stuff was garbage.
"What proof is this?"
"Sixty-five. Cures everything."
Olaf grinned. "Icelanders use it to stay warm in winter."
Cassius made a mental note that importing liquor to Iceland could be a solid business.
Anne only took the tiniest sip and her face turned pink.
Matt could actually drink. He was deep in conversation with a couple of the guides about the differences between Alaska and Iceland.
"Alaska cold is dry cold—physical damage. Iceland cold is wet cold—like magical damage."
Cassius laughed.
It sounded exactly like the endless online arguments between northern and southern netizens.
They talked late into the night. People gradually drifted away.
Cassius went back to his tent and started packing.
Three weeks in Iceland. He hadn't brought much, but he'd gained a lot.
[Reputation-Building] had climbed to 42%.
Finally past the halfway mark.
Ever since the progress bar switched to a single total, leveling up had slowed way down.
But every level still brought massive changes.
This upgrade had already given him the dream instance—being able to live entire movie plots was completely broken.
Plus the Iceland training had massively boosted his cold tolerance and weighted-walking ability.
Now he could walk five kilometers at minus twenty degrees in a forty-kilo suit without breaking a sweat.
Luggage packed, Cassius stepped outside.
The Icelandic night sky was crystal clear. The aurora had started dancing again.
Green ribbons of light rippled like silk, occasionally flashing purple and red.
Anne came out too and stood a little ways off, staring up at the sky.
"It's beautiful."
"Once we start shooting we probably won't even notice it."
Anne said it suddenly, almost out of nowhere.
"Why?"
Cassius glanced at her. She sounded oddly melancholy.
"Because once you're in character, the story takes over. You stop paying attention to anything else."
Anne's voice carried a quiet sadness.
Cassius smiled. "Occupational hazard. Actors see everything through the lens of a scene."
Anne turned to look at him. "Does that ever happen to you? Not knowing if you're Cassius or Cooper?"
"Sometimes."
Cassius thought about how he'd literally lived as Cooper for years inside the dream instance. That level of immersion made regular acting feel shallow by comparison.
The plane had barely touched down in Los Angeles before Cassius's phone started vibrating nonstop.
Forty-seven unread messages.
Twelve missed calls.
He opened it.
The last text from Robert said: "Use the VIP exit when you land. Media's waiting."
Too late.
Cassius and Anne had just reached the baggage carousel when the flashbulbs started.
At least thirty reporters were packed at the exit, cameras and mics aimed like weapons.
"This is intense—"
Anne kept her voice low. "I thought we were walking a red carpet."
"Worse than a red carpet. At least those come with warning."
They exchanged a look and slipped into professional smiles at the same time.
The first reporter to reach them was from The Hollywood Reporter. He shoved a mic toward Anne.
"Anne! First time working with Cassius on a Nolan film—how's it going?"
"Really well."
Anne kept her smile camera-ready. "Cassius is an incredibly professional actor. Training in Iceland went smoothly."
"Can you tell us what the Iceland training actually involved?"
"Sorry, Nolan wants it kept under wraps."
Anne deflected smoothly. "But I can say we're both doing everything we can to prepare for our roles."
The mic swung to Cassius.
"Cassius, this is your first time working with an Oscar winner. Feeling any pressure?"
"Pressure's definitely there."
Cassius shrugged. "But pressure's also fuel. Plus Anne's been great on set—she keeps buying me coffee."
A few quiet laughs rippled through the crowd. The answer flattered Anne while keeping things light.
"Rumor has it you spent three months on a farm learning to drive a tractor to prepare for Cooper. True?"
"True."
Cassius nodded. "I also learned how to fix irrigation systems. If acting doesn't work out, I've got a backup career as a farmer."
More laughter.
[Role Conviction +5]
[Reputation-Building +1% — Current: 43%]
Answering one question had bumped the bar a full percent.
Cassius guessed the progress had been sitting right on the edge of a level-up.
If every answer gave this much, he could speed-run his way to Best Actor.
Even so, it was still a nice win.
Way better than freezing his ass off in Iceland.
Then a woman in glasses and a gray suit pushed to the front.
Her mic logo was one Cassius didn't recognize—some online outlet.
"I'm with Culture Watch. I have a question for Cassius."
"Go ahead."
"Social media has been full of comments lately saying Asian actors shouldn't play core American hero roles like the one in Interstellar. There's even an organized boycott calling it cultural appropriation. What's your response?"
The entire press line went quiet.
Every camera swung toward Cassius.
Anne gently touched his arm, concern in her eyes.
Cassius took a slow breath.
Here we go again.
Ever since Green Lantern, he'd been dealing with this same crap.
He'd hoped that after a few box-office hits the noise would die down.
Instead, the louder he got, the louder the backlash became.
Looked like a actor still had a long road ahead before he could truly stand in Hollywood.
"First, I need to clarify something."
Cassius kept his voice calm. "I've been in closed training, so I haven't actually seen the comments you're referring to. I can't speak to them directly."
"They're very real!"
The reporter wasn't letting it go. "The Twitter hashtag opposing you has over twenty thousand tweets. A lot of users are calling your casting cultural invasion and demanding you be blocked from Hollywood."
Cassius's eyebrows rose. He hadn't realized the backlash had gotten this big.
Even if these people were technically right—he really was invading their culture—he sure as hell wasn't going to admit it.
"Movies are popular art. They don't belong to any one race, country, or culture. Cooper is a father trying to save humanity. Any qualified actor should have the chance to play him."
"But a lot of people believe American heroes should be played by Americans."
"I think the definition of 'American hero' is changing. America is a nation of immigrants. Its heroes can come from any background. If we're still stuck in the mindset that only one kind of face can play a hero, that's the real regression."
[Role Conviction +10]
Scattered applause broke out.
The reporter tried to follow up, but the rest of the press corps pushed her aside.
"Anne, what do you have to say about the racist comments your costar is facing?"
Anne took the mic, expression serious.
"Cassius is one of the most professional actors I've ever worked with. Casting should be based on talent, not skin color. Nolan chose him because he's the right person for Cooper. That's it."
The interview ran another ten minutes before security finally got them clear.
Once they were in the SUV, Cassius let out a long breath.
"That last reporter was pretty aggressive."
Anne sounded worried.
"Expected."
Cassius rubbed his temples. "This noise hasn't stopped since Green Lantern."
"You handled it well."
"Practice."
Cassius gave a tired smile. "In Hollywood, a actor with thin skin doesn't last long."
The car dropped Anne off first.
Before she got out she turned back. "If you need me to tweet support, just say the word."
After she left, Cassius opened his phone.
A message from Robert popped up: "Airport interview video is already trending. Your answer got clipped into a short clip—lots of shares."
Cassius clicked the link.
The video title read: "Cassius Responds to Racism Accusations: Movies Belong to Everyone."
Top comments were supportive:
"Exactly! Movies shouldn't have color lines!"
"Those boycotters don't understand film at all."
"Based on this attitude alone, I'm seeing the movie opening weekend."
The hate was still loud too:
"Everyone can say the right thing on camera."
"Asian guy playing an American hero just feels wrong."
"Waiting for the box office bomb."
Cassius swiped it away.
After years of weathering storms in Hollywood, he'd learned one simple rule.
Don't waste time arguing with online trolls.
They weren't looking for a real conversation.
They just wanted to vent.
That night Cassius lay in his own bed.
He opened Twitter.
The latest hot take read: "Asian guy playing an astronaut? Next they'll have him run for president."
Someone replied underneath: "Why not? The Constitution doesn't say the president has to be any particular race."
The replies were a total mess.
These people really had nothing better to do than argue all day.
Cassius turned his phone off.
He thought back to something he'd heard on the Canadian farm:
"Corn grows anywhere if you give it enough sun and water. Same with people. You can survive anywhere—if you're strong enough."