It had been six months since Harry Jackson became director of JTV—and four months since the network's surprise reincarnation.
There had been a bit of a laugh when JTV announced Mr. Bean and Power Rangers Force — but nobody was laughing now.
While Harry had not produced any new shows in the interim, conversations had started. Licensing partners, global distributors, and other independent creators were starting to swarm JTV like it was the new brand everyone wanted. And after a few months of prodding, Mason had successfully convinced the Board to renew Harry's directorship for another full year.
To some, the renewal felt like a temporary measure. But for Harry?
It was enough.
Enough time to solidify his legacy—maybe take a break.
"I think I'm going to take a vacation," Harry said as he flicked through show pitches on his tablet while drinking his black coffee that had gone a bit cool.
Lisa lifted her head from her laptop. "Vacation? You?"
"Look, I get it," She said, narrowing her eyes. "Just... how long do you need this for?"
"A month. Two, maybe. It's all TBD." He set the tablet down and leaned back. "But I won't be leaving until at least we greenlight a new show on our slate. And I want a clear plan for Power Rangers Season 2 in place."
Lisa nodded. She knew him well by now, Harry wasn't the sort to rest without a plan in place for himself and the work ahead.
They were in the new conference room, glass and sleek, cluttered with unopened energy drinks and project folders. It wasn't a legacy TV studio. It felt like illegitimate ambition and a startup.
He wanted to greenlight something audacious — on par with Breaking Bad. But his memory wasn't photographic. There was no golden finger, no perfect recall — just splashes of memory, titles, tones and outcomes.
He was no lucky reincarnation who had remembered an exact screenplay or an editing suite in their head. He was building JTV's empire with the courage of general knowledge and instinct. For the moment that was working.
Lisa picked up another folder. "This one has a killer hook. Zombie apocalypse. A lone survivor hooks up with his late boss's daughter. They cross-pollinate city limits, trying to survive a ruined world."
Harry glanced up. That struck a chord. Once upon a time he had been in a game like that—The Last of Us. If they could do something remotely close to that in tone…
"This has legs," he said, suddenly animated. "We make it gritty, grounded. Less zombie gore and more survival with emotion. Character first. Keep it affordable—small sets, abandoned location, two leads; and concentrate on atmosphere and pacing."
Lisa then started writing things down. "We'll get a mini writers' room together next week."
Harry nodded. "This is our only new production. Everything else is Power Rangers Season 2, and to be honest, I want to fix the criticisms we absorbed from last season--better pace, tighter edit, better costumes--and no more helmets that look like foam."
"And if we have any money left to play with?" Lisa asked.
"We tried experimenting with one or two animated pilots. Small scale. Reimagined fairy tales in the public domain--put a little twist on them."
Lisa nodded again and continued her lists. "That will give the studio a project while you're gone."
Harry looked at his watch, 11:47.
The office was dead quiet. Most of the staff people had left hours ago. He was okay with it. He had chosen this corner office as his second home. Or maybe it was his only home.
It wasn't much different than before--long night shifts, take away meals, crashing out with a pile of paperwork and screens blinking at me. He thought for a time that he might grow out of this. Someday someone--some woman--would you out of this loop--well, that was the idea.
It was no different from before — late nights; takeout dinners; and falling asleep surrounded by paperwork and flashing computer screens. He had thought he would eventually outgrow it. One day, someone — some woman — would haul him out of this cycle.
That never happened. Not after the divorce. He had once trusted. It almost cost him everything. So, now, he built things. Business was the only relationship he could feel safe in.
Lisa looked at him from her seat. "You're really going alone, you know?"
Harry blinked. "What?"
"Your holiday. You're not taking anyone with you. No girlfriend, no entourage, no private chef. Just you, a suitcase, and probably four unread scripts in your bag."
Harry smiled a faint smile. "You know how easily old habits die."
"Well, don't forget to actually relax, okay? And for the love of God, don't try to pitch a show idea to your cab driver again."
"I did that once," Harry muttered.
"And he still mails you about his cowboy sci-fi musical."
They both laughed.
As Lisa packed up and Harry opened another folder, the thought lingered:He was halfway through his first year at JTV.
He'd revived a dead network.He'd made hits without a magic formula.And now...
He was preparing to rest—not because he was tired, but because the next storm was already forming in his mind.