Chapter 278: You Will Always Be My God

The annual Super Bowl was a day of nationwide revelry in America. It had long since become a tradition. Not only did ordinary fans flock to the event, but celebrities from politics, business, and the entertainment industry also showed up at the stadium on game day. Scanning the crowd for famous faces had always been a staple of the live Super Bowl broadcast.

Compared to the Super Bowl, events like the Oscar Awards Ceremony, the NBA Finals, and the America's Cup were nothing. To the American public, they were just background noise.

When Duke walked into the luxury suite, San Murphy Stadium in San Diego, California, was packed to the brim. Box Number One was filled with celebrities. Though he was meeting some of them for the first time, they acted as if they already knew him, and he had long heard of them as well—like Paul Allen, a shareholder in DreamWorks and Microsoft, who would one day own the famous Seattle Seahawks.

After shaking hands or nodding to a few people who had taken the initiative to greet him, Duke made his way to his seat. His spot consisted of two spacious, adjoining plush seats. Tina Fey, who had arrived earlier, was already sitting on the inside. Once Duke sat down, she handed him a sports drink.

"Who did you bet on to win?" she asked.

Duke flashed the betting slip in his hand. "The Green Bay Packers. The last time the Denver Broncos made it to the Super Bowl, they were slaughtered 55 to 10 by the San Francisco 49ers. It hasn't been that many years since then, and I don't think they've fundamentally changed."

Tina Fey unscrewed her Gatorade and took a sip. "Just the opposite. I bet on the Denver Broncos."

Suddenly, a voice came from behind them. "Hello, are you Mr. Rosenberg?"

People in the industry usually called him Duke or Director Rosenberg; this slightly husky female voice sounded completely unfamiliar. Duke turned around.

"Hello."

An exceptionally tall girl had stood up behind them. She had long, slender legs, sun-kissed skin, and a few faint freckles common to young women on her face. Her striking figure was unforgettable, exuding a hot, sexy aura. Framed by the straight golden-brown hair falling over her shoulders, she had a classic Germanic face, strong yet natural.

Although she was much younger now, Duke recognized her immediately. After all, she was once the highest-paid and most business-savvy supermodel in history.

"Mr. Rosenberg, I'm Gisele Bundchen," she said, introducing herself immediately. "I'm a model from Brazil, and I'm preparing to sign with Victoria's Secret. You're about to be one of my bosses."

Duke shook her outstretched hand. "Nice to meet you, Miss Bundchen."

"Just call me Gisele." Her smile was as bright as the sun in Rio de Janeiro, and her personality was as bold and straightforward as most Brazilian women's. "Can I call you Duke?"

"Of course," Duke nodded.

The noisy stadium wasn't suited for a chat. After they exchanged a few words, Duke turned back around, but Gisele Bundchen handed him a card. Duke took it, glanced at the numbers hastily scrawled on it in eyebrow pencil, and casually stuffed it into his left pocket.

"Do you want me to trade seats with her?" Tina Fey leaned in and asked in a low voice.

Duke turned and shot her a glance. "No need."

Tina Fey smartly shut her mouth, pretending she hadn't asked.

As in previous Super Bowls, the game itself wasn't particularly exciting. Both sides played conservatively. Completely contrary to Duke's expectations, however, the Denver Broncos held absolute dominance. They quickly scored a touchdown through flawless coordination between their quarterback and wide receiver. In the ensuing defensive drive, they not only sacked the opposing quarterback on first down but directly intercepted a mid-range pass on second down...

"The Green Bay Packers are going to lose," Tina Fey muttered under her breath.

"It's possible."

Duke grabbed his Gatorade and took a sip, giving up on watching the game entirely. It truly couldn't be called exciting.

Ever since NBC secured the broadcasting rights, the Super Bowl had been one of the NBC Television Network's ace programs, with the halftime commercials serving as a major focal point. Ad revenue had reached a staggering $135,000 per second. A thirty-second slot couldn't even be considered without a cool $4 million.

The ridiculously high ad rates and terrifyingly high viewer ratings drove major manufacturers to put immense effort into the creativity and visuals of their spots, all to attract more eyeballs and ensure their products were remembered among the sea of commercials.

This fierce competition resulted in highly anticipated super-commercial slots, and major Hollywood film studios had now joined the fray.

Sitting at his computer desk, Norman Hiller checked the time, temporarily logged out of the Explosion Maniac Chat Room, and hurried over to the sofa. He picked up the remote, turned on the TV, and switched it to NBC. His timing was perfect. The first half between the Denver Broncos and the Green Bay Packers was about to end, and the halftime commercials were about to begin.

Hiller wasn't interested in the wide variety of product ads. A few months ago, he had noticed a website that many people were talking about. It exuded a cool, mysterious atmosphere and kept claiming that this world was not real, asserting that by following the site's information, anyone could become the one and only savior.

Like most people, he had quickly guessed that this was promotional material for that director's new work. However, the website would leak bits of new information—both images and text—every so often. The updates were incredibly engaging, unconsciously drawing people in until they genuinely wanted to see just how wondrous this world—or the world within the movie—truly was.

The Matrix? Reality? The Savior?

Rumor had it that the website's daily traffic had reached nearly fifty thousand, and many had deduced these three key phrases from it.

Through Yahoo's web portal, Norman Hiller had picked up other details, like the fact that the film was a sci-fi movie with a massive production budget of $80 million, and that it would hit theaters in May, at the start of the summer season.

Given the trend over the last few years, a big-budget summer blockbuster like this was bound to have a Super Bowl ad.

Norman Hiller was waiting specifically for the commercial for The Matrix, hoping to glean more information.

Reality did not disappoint him. After a few product commercials, the Hollywood movie ad slot arrived. The very first trailer that aired featured the most prominent subtitle text: A Duke Rosenberg Film!

The commercial was only thirty seconds long—incredibly brief—and Norman Hiller widened his eyes to their absolute limit.

The first character to appear in the trailer was a woman. Her face was stern, with black hair and dark clothing. The tight outfit accentuated her long legs and slim waist, making her look icy, gorgeous, and alluring to the extreme...

Norman Hiller suddenly felt the urge to whistle. A beauty like this was rare, even in all of Hollywood, wasn't she?

Yet before he could even let out the whistle, his jaw dropped. The woman leaped into the air, and the camera suddenly froze, panning in a 360-degree rotation to showcase the beautiful, athletic move from every angle...

The woman kicked a police officer to the ground, and Norman Hiller couldn't help but shout, "Cool!"

It seemed the entire trailer was meant to define the word "cool." Keanu Reeves's black trench coat and sunglasses, his fight with an equally ridiculously cool Black man, and the Bruce Lee-style moves he threw out... What was it called again? Right, kung fu...

Then came the shot that made Norman Hiller jump straight out of his seat. Another equally cool character fired a rapid succession of gunshots at Keanu Reeves. The trajectories of the bullets were displayed with crystal clarity on the screen. It should have been an incredibly slow scene, but in high-speed slow motion, it conveyed a sensation of incredible speed.

An even more bizarre scene followed: Keanu Reeves performed an unimaginable dodge, evading the bullets...

"How is that possible?" Norman Hiller murmured. "That's completely impossible. How could a human dodge bullets like that?"

However, the next scene turned his disbelief into confusion.

"What is real?"

The Black man stood in an all-white environment, speaking cryptically. "If you say real is what you can feel, what you can smell, what you can taste, then 'real' is simply electrical signals interpreted by your brain. The world you know is just such a world..."

"The Matrix. In theaters May 14, 1998!"

The thirty seconds vanished in a flash. Norman Hiller had no mind to watch the movie trailers that followed. He stood there frowning, still pondering the information revealed in the commercial.

'What I feel isn't real? What I see isn't real? What I smell isn't real either? Just electrical signals?'

It suddenly dawned on him. 'Could it be that the entire world inside the movie is fake? Then what is real?'

Suddenly, Norman Hiller thought of the apocalyptic-looking images on the website. 'Are those the reality? Are this fake one and that real one two coexisting worlds? But how do these two worlds coexist?'

Gaining some information had actually made him more confused and more curious—so curious that he wished he could watch the movie right this second to see what the world inside it actually looked like.

Just thirty short seconds had been enough to ignite his curiosity even further. It wasn't just the suspense, but also what the film's visuals brought to the table—something that heavy computer and internet users like him called cyberpunk culture.

Clearly, that director had once again perfectly grasped the mindset of young people like him, creating exactly what they wanted to see the most. As for the actors' styling, the fights, and that scene of the male lead dodging bullets, Norman Hiller felt it could only be described as "cool beyond belief."

If this had been any other director's movie, Norman Hiller would have worried that the trailer simply compiled all the best parts of the film. But he believed that this was just a very ordinary snippet of the movie. Which of Duke's past films wasn't an incredible compilation of trailer-worthy moments?

When you saw something good, you wanted to share it. Norman Hiller turned off the TV, went back to his computer, and logged into the chat room under his username, Duke of Destruction.

"I suggest everyone go see The Matrix immediately. The movie is cool..."