Chapter 2

The greatest talent of humanity is the right to pursue dreams, but before chasing those dreams, one must first fill their stomach. If one cannot even meet the most basic needs for survival, everything else is just an illusion.

Having been in this world for more than a year, almost all of his time was spent in prison. The hardships there allowed Murphy to understand many truths. Before realizing his Hollywood dream, he first needed to find a job to support himself.

Although the previous owner of this body was a fool, he did leave behind some useful things, such as this small apartment.

The apartment was located in a Latin community. Like most houses in downtown Los Angeles, it was a low, old building. The security situation here was concerning, with many idle people living around, and some guys similar to Ross often roamed the community.

Perhaps it was good luck, or perhaps the place was too old and remote, but this 'aunt's' apartment had not been burglarized in the past year. The furniture and work equipment left by the fool that Murphy had always despised were still intact, which was a pleasant surprise.

After finding the apartment based on his memory, Murphy conducted a thorough cleaning and then took stock of his current assets.

First was the house he could temporarily live in. The United States used the British system of measurement. By Murphy's standards, the house was not small, measuring about fifty square meters. Excluding the kitchen and bathroom, there was a combined bedroom, living room, and balcony, as well as a small studio, which was the workspace of the previous owner, a freelance journalist.

Since the house in his name had been confiscated as a fine and compensation, Murphy confirmed that he would have to live here for a long time.

The furnishings inside were very simple. Clearly, the Stanton family had once been a very ordinary member of the slums. The aunt who had gone to England left behind an old TV, a refrigerator, and a washing machine. The furniture was also simple: two chairs, a chipped dining table, a faded sofa, and a foldable single bed.

After a day of traveling from the state prison back to downtown Los Angeles and cleaning the room, Murphy's stomach was growling. He took out the only money he had, carefully counting it: two hundred and forty-three dollars.

He took out a ten-dollar bill and put the rest in his pocket. Murphy left the room and went to a nearby burger shop to buy a burger meal for dinner.

Although it was already dark and the security situation was poor, Murphy did not encounter any dramatic robberies. He thought perhaps his strong physique had something to do with it, as he had experienced many things in prison, giving him a somewhat fierce appearance.

Dinner cost him only five dollars. Murphy had no source of income and needed to plan the use of every cent.

After climbing the more dilapidated and dirty stairs and enduring the strange looks from two black men, Murphy returned to his room, locked the door, and turned on the TV. There were no programs, probably because the signal had been cut off due to non-payment. He turned off the TV and quietly enjoyed his dinner.

Chewing the burger tastelessly, Murphy's mind was constantly turning, thinking about how he would make a living next.

The stock market? Not only did he have no capital, but it was June 2000, and the stock market crash triggered by the NASDAQ was in full swing. Moreover, he had been a poor student at a low-tier film school and knew nothing about stock operations...

Investment? Who would invest in him when he had no money? He wanted someone to invest in him...

Swallowing the food in his mouth and throwing the remaining half of the burger on the chipped dining table, Murphy leaned back in his chair, propping his head up with one hand, and racked his brain for a way to get rich quickly.

Of course, continuing to deal in drugs and illegal firearms like Ross was not an option.

After much thought, Murphy returned to what he was best at: work related to the film industry. Although he was just a student with little practical experience, he had analyzed countless classic Hollywood films and scripts during his studies and had listened to many popular movie songs.

Changing to a more comfortable sitting position, Murphy first ruled out songs. Listening to and writing songs were worlds apart. Asking someone who had never received any professional training to write a song was impossible.

Such unreliable thoughts would only lead to his starvation...

What remained were films and scripts. The film school he had attended was indeed not top-tier, but the basic teaching was still guaranteed. He was also a relatively diligent student, familiar with the classic art films analyzed in class and having studied many films of interest during his free time.

Suddenly, a thought came to Murphy's mind. He would write a script for a future classic film, mail it to the major Hollywood studios, and the executives of the Big Six would flock to him like travelers in the desert finding water, treating him as a super genius. From then on, Murphy Stanton would embark on a glorious path in Hollywood, filled with money, power, and beauty.

"Hasn't the suffering of the past year been enough?" Murphy suddenly laughed, speaking to himself in a self-mocking tone, "You're not that naive student anymore. Don't have such low-level and foolish thoughts, okay?"

Even as an outsider, Murphy knew that Hollywood was never short of scripts. Not to mention the Big Six, even second-tier film companies had countless scripts lying in their script libraries, waiting to gather dust.

Many non-adapted films in the future had their scripts lying in the script libraries of various companies for years...

Murphy remembered clearly that some of the scripts on the Hollywood blacklist had appeared as early as the 1980s.

The chances of a new script being picked up by a film company were infinitesimally low, but it was still a path. Even if the chances were outrageously low, there was still some hope. Murphy decided that if he could find a stable job, he would try it, just for a chance.

Thinking about this, Murphy stood up and walked to the window, looking at the starry sky in the distance, then sighed, abandoning those unrealistic thoughts. His mind turned to the most practical matters: finding a job with a legal income to solve his livelihood.

Pursuing dreams was his right. Murphy could endure the desperate life in prison and was willing to do odd jobs to achieve his goals.

Of course, Murphy had another option: continuing the previous owner's work.

He walked into the previous owner's studio, which he had also cleaned thoroughly. The simple workbench, wooden chair, and shelves behind it were no longer dusty. Neatly arranged on them were a laptop, a Canon handheld camera, and a Los Angeles police radio receiver.

These were the previous owner's work tools.

Sitting at the workbench, Murphy opened the laptop and found some news videos shot by the previous owner. From the videos, it was clear that the guy mainly shot social news, such as car accidents, fires, and robberies. Later, he was tempted by a large reward to foolishly shoot a personal scandal involving Summer Redstone.

Not only were there videos, but also instructions for using the police radio, the police codes of the Los Angeles Police Department, and contact information for the news department heads of several local Los Angeles TV stations.

The previous owner's work was not complicated. He mainly roamed the streets of Los Angeles, capturing news footage of public interest, and then selling it to interested TV stations.

However, Murphy did not plan to continue this kind of work. He was only interested in the equipment, as it could be sold for money to sustain his life.

Although he had abandoned those foolish ideas, Murphy still had some plans. This was Hollywood, where countless people worked in the film industry, making it his first choice for finding a job.

He would start with a job related to the film industry, even the lowest-level odd jobs, to gain experience and find opportunities...

In fact, the film industry worldwide was the same. Countless talented people poured into it, but only a few succeeded. Often, opportunities were more important than talent.

As night deepened, Ross called to ask if Murphy needed anything. Given the current situation, Murphy did not hesitate and directly said he needed to borrow a car to go out and look for a suitable job.

The next morning, a young black man delivered a relatively new Chevrolet to the intersection. Ross was very considerate; the car was clearly filled with gas. Murphy parked the car in an alley next to the apartment building, bought breakfast and several newspapers, and returned upstairs. He ate while flipping through the job listings in the newspapers, hoping to find something suitable.

Given his current conditions, his requirements were very low. As long as the job was related to the film industry and the pay was timely, it would be fine.

This was Los Angeles, the home of Hollywood, with thousands of film and television production companies and studios. Every day, several film crews started work, and similar job opportunities were available.

After flipping through two newspapers, Murphy copied down several interesting job listings, planning to call them later. When he came to the last newspaper, a large recruitment ad caught his eye, and his eyes instantly lit up.

This massive production team was just beginning preparations and was publicly recruiting various staff, including art directors, costume designers, artists, and assistants. The project was called "The Matrix"!

Just a few lines made Murphy realize that this was the recruitment ad for the sequels of "The Matrix" directed by the Wachowskis, a great opportunity.

Flipping to the next page, the ad continued.