Experience is Gained from Lessons
The audition for *The World's Game* was held on a bustling studio backlot. Even though Avery and her friends arrived early, the film crew had been there since dawn. Filming was already in full swing.
Before they even reached the meeting point, Leo Foster was on the phone with the director's assistant. Maybe it was because Leo had a reputation for being a troublemaker, but the assistant didn't dare send a PA to get them. He came out himself, jogging over to greet their group.
Leo immediately launched into a speech, telling the assistant to keep an eye on things and make sure no one on set gave Avery a hard time. "If anyone messes with her," he warned, "they'll have to answer to me. You got that?"
The assistant just kept nodding, looking a little overwhelmed.
Avery felt a flush of embarrassment, but she knew Leo was just looking out for her.
As awkward as it was, she couldn't dismiss his good intentions.
Once he finally finished his tirade, she shot the assistant an apologetic smile and followed him onto the set.
Things were chaotic, so he found a small stool for her in a relatively quiet corner. "Just hang tight for a bit," he said. "As soon as this scene wraps, the director will come over."
Avery wasn't in any rush. She settled in, content to watch the three actors work through their scene.
You could really tell the difference between a big-budget production and a smaller one.
Everyone here knew their job, moving with a quiet purpose that made the set run like a well-oiled machine.
Even when they had to make last-minute changes, there wasn't a hint of panic.
The costumes, makeup, and props were on another level, too.
Even the guards' armor, for what were clearly minor roles, looked impressively authentic.
They were filming a scene where a guard was feeding intel to the male lead. The actor playing the guard kept fumbling his lines, and they had to do a couple of takes before they finally got it right.
Avery waited for about half an hour. Then, as the crew started setting up for the next scene, the director finally walked over.
Prompted by his assistant, Simon Vance looked up from his monitor, his eyes scanning the area until they landed on her.
He tossed his walkie-talkie onto a nearby table and stood up.
"So, you're the actress the Foster kid sent over," he said, his voice gruff.
Vance was in his early sixties and looked even more disheveled than the last director she'd worked with, right down to the thinning hair. His pants were splashed with red paint, and his eyes were sharp, seeming to analyze everything they landed on.
Avery nodded politely. "Hello, Director Vance. I'm Avery Hayes."
"Hey, isn't that the extra who was trending all over social media yesterday?" the on-set screenwriter standing beside him blurted out.
Vance turned to him. "The one from Kid Gannon's period drama?"
"I think so. Let me check." The screenwriter squinted at Avery's face, then quickly pulled out his phone. He found the post from the other director and watched the video clip closely. "It's definitely her," he said, handing the phone to Vance.
As the director watched the clip, the screenwriter studied Avery with open curiosity.
People outside the industry seemed to think actors and directors didn't follow celebrity gossip.
That was a joke. In their line of work, everyone was chronically online, constantly monitoring public opinion for the next PR crisis.
He'd followed the whole drama the other night.
He knew this girl wasn't just a pretty face, she was some kind of multi-talented prodigy.
He'd spent half the night scrolling through her social media, discovering she had a Master of Medicine and had quit her job to study for the Bar Exam, the results of which were still pending.
He'd even looked up what the Bar entailed, and the sheer volume of knowledge required had made his head spin.
He'd wondered then: just how brilliant was this doctor?
She'd stumbled into a gig with a short-form drama company and was now treating two incredibly difficult careers like they were her own personal express lanes.
And now, here she was, standing right in front of him.
"It really is her," the screenwriter murmured as Vance finished the video. "Her performance was pretty good. She really captured the character's spirit."
When Vance looked at Avery again, his critical gaze had softened. He handed the phone back and sized her up. "You've got the right look. You've read the script, so pick a scene and give it a shot."
Avery nodded. She glanced around the set, then walked over to a nearby prop rock formation and sat down.
Instantly, something shifted. The light in her bright eyes seemed to switch off, her gaze becoming unfocused as if she were truly blind.
She lowered her head, her jawline tightening and her brow settling into a cold, serious expression.
In that one pose, she perfectly embodied someone lost in thought, surrounded by an impenetrable darkness.
The transformation took both the director and the screenwriter by surprise. It didn't look like acting at all. They both had the same thought: had she actually injured her eyes in the past?
"A very good performance," Vance said, giving her a generous nod.
The role had little screen time but was crucial to the second male lead's storyline.
He'd seen a lot of extras for the part and hadn't found anyone suitable.
When Leo had called him yesterday, he'd found it hard to say no, so he'd planned to let her audition and then politely turn her down.
He never expected Leo to send someone so perfect for the part.
"You play it so realistically," he said, his curiosity piqued. "Have you ever injured your eyes before?"
Avery stood up from the rocks and gave a small, thoughtful smile. "In my old job, I worked closely with a blind volunteer. We spent a lot of time together, so it just came naturally."
She wasn't worried about anyone checking her work history.
The labs she'd worked in during her master's program had high security clearance, and no one outside the medical field could just look them up.
As for the rest, she had participated in plenty of clinical trials, and all of that was on her resume.
It would stand up to any background check.
Vance was a little curious about her old job but didn't push it.
"I see," he said. "Well, the role is yours. Your six scenes will be filmed back-to-back, the day after tomorrow, in the afternoon and evening."
He turned to his assistant. "Go get the Production Manager. Have him bring a contract for Miss Hayes to sign."
The assistant nodded and hurried off.
Meanwhile, Avery pulled a document out of her bag.
It was an "Accidental Injury Insurance Contract" she'd drafted herself after her last shoot.
She had four copies. If the production team didn't have one, she was ready to present her own.
You live and you learn. The last crew hadn't offered any kind of insurance, not even for a scene where she had to jump out of a window.
Whether they were too broke or just forgot, she wasn't taking any chances this time.
After all, this character was supposed to drown in a river. She was going to be insured.
But her preparations turned out to be unnecessary.
When the Production Manager arrived, he brought an insurance certificate and a safety notice along with the main agreement.
As expected from a professional crew, everything was incredibly organized.
Their level of detail was far beyond her own basic understanding of the industry.
Avery also noticed that the contract itself was far more detailed than the rudimentary one she'd signed before.
It just went to show: the smaller the company, the cheaper they were.
The contract for *The World's Game* laid out the rights and responsibilities for both sides with total clarity.
Even someone as thorough as Avery couldn't find a single issue with it.
She finished reading it and nodded to herself, feeling a quiet sense of satisfaction. This was how a real film crew was supposed to operate.