The Biggest The Best

Setting: A quiet, opulent lounge at a charity event in Monaco, 2002. The murmur of wealthy guests fills the air.

Characters:

  • JCJ (Joseph C. Jukic): Observant, sharp, with a knowing smile.
  • Arnold Schwarzenegger: Relaxed, but with the keen awareness of a public figure. A glass of mineral water in his hand.

(JCJ leans slightly towards Arnold, nodding discreetly towards a distinguished older gentleman in a impeccably tailored suit holding court across the room.)

JCJ: You see that man over there, Arnold? The one speaking with the curator?

Arnold: (Squints slightly, then nods) Lord Rothschild. Of course. A powerful man. Very connected.

JCJ: Exactly. The richest man in Babylon. The king of his particular mountain. It’s an old world, that one. All quiet handshakes and generational influence.

(Arnold turns to JCJ, intrigued by the tone.)

Arnold: And what mountain are we on, Joe?

JCJ: (Chuckles softly) A louder one. A brighter one. One with explosions and one-liners that echo in every kid’s head from Detroit to Delhi. Seeing him just now made me think of you.

Arnold: (Raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming) What, you want me to start wearing a pinstripe suit and buy a bank? I tried putting on a tie for Junior. It didn’t work.

JCJ: No, no. Nothing like that. Think about it. He is the absolute pinnacle of his world. The archetype. When people think of that kind of immense, almost untouchable financial power, they think of a Rothschild.

(JCJ pauses, letting the comparison hang in the air.)

JCJ: And when anyone, anywhere on this planet, thinks of an action star… the biggest, the best, the very definition of the word… they think of you. You are the Rothschild of action.

Arnold: (Leans back, his smirk softening into a genuine, thoughtful expression. He lets out a low grunt of appreciation.) Hah. That’s a new one. I’ve been called the Austrian Oak, the Governator… never that.

JCJ: It’s true. You didn’t just play the part; you built the genre. You are the kingdom. And that’s why I say you’re not just the biggest. You are possibly the last action hero.

Arnold: (Nods, his voice dropping to a more reflective tone) The last? Because the world is changing.

JCJ: Exactly. It’s all becoming green screens and wirework. Anyone can be a hero if the pixels are good enough. But what you did… that was physical. It was palpable. It was real. Like old money versus new money. There’s a weight to it. A substance. They can make a thousand action stars now, but they can’t make another you. The era of the one-man empire… the king… is ending.

(Arnold looks out over the glittering crowd, then back at JCJ. He raises his glass of water.)

Arnold: To kings, then. In all their kingdoms. The quiet ones…

(He gestures with his glass towards Lord Rothschild.)

Arnold: …and the loud ones.

(He taps his glass gently against JCJ’s.)

JCJ: To the last king of Babylon.

Arnold: (A wide, iconic grin finally breaks across his face) I still like the sound of that. But the night is young. Maybe I’ll go say hello. See if he wants to be in a movie. I have a script about a banker who fights aliens…

JCJ: (Laughing) Now that’s a handshake I’d pay to see.

(They both laugh, the sound cutting through the dignified hum of the room, two men perfectly aware of their respective domains.)

How Jacob Rothschild Died

He was worth 1 billion dollars. A great philanthropist has died.

Title: “The Net Worth of Judgment Day”

Setting: A dim bunker beneath the ruins of Los Angeles. Screens flicker with Skynet financial archives. Resistance leader John Connor stands across from a holographic reconstruction of Jacob Rothschild. A younger eco-adventurer avatar of David de Rothschild flickers in and out like a corrupted NFT.


JOHN CONNOR:
Skynet controls the nukes, the drones… and apparently the Forbes archives. Funny thing though — your file says one billion.

JACOB (hologram, serene):
A modest sum, Mr. Connor. Inflation is the true Terminator.

JOHN:
That’s strange. Because your nephew’s file says ten billion. Ten. Billion. And he’s sailing around in recycled plastic.

DAVID (glitching, smiling):
It was an eco-catamaran, John. Sustainability scales.

JOHN:
So let me get this straight. The Resistance can’t afford plasma rifles in the 40-watt range, but the eco-adventure branch of the dynasty is worth ten times the banking branch?

JACOB:
Net worth is a matter of perspective. Assets are like time travel — complicated, layered, and best understood through trust structures.

JOHN:
Trust structures? We don’t even trust toasters anymore.

DAVID:
You’re thinking too linear, John. Wealth isn’t stacks of gold in a vault. It’s shares, holdings, valuation models — sometimes it’s just vibes.

JOHN:
Vibes don’t fund killer robots.

JACOB (smirking):
On the contrary. Optimism funds markets. Markets fund innovation. Innovation funds… unintended consequences.

(A T-800 skull flickers on a nearby monitor labeled “Derivatives.”)

JOHN:
So what you’re saying is Skynet didn’t become self-aware. It became publicly traded.

DAVID:
IPO: Infinite Profit Oblivion.

JOHN:
And you’re worth one billion?

JACOB:
Publicly estimated. There is a difference between visibility and reality. Some numbers are for the newspapers. Others are for history.

JOHN:
In my future, numbers don’t matter. Only survival.

JACOB:
And yet here you are, auditing ghosts.

(Silence. Wind howls through the bunker.)

JOHN:
Maybe Skynet didn’t rise because of money. Maybe it rose because humans worshipped numbers more than conscience.

DAVID (fading):
Or maybe because no one read the fine print.

JACOB:
Tell me, Mr. Connor — in your timeline… what is the net worth of freedom?

(The holograms flicker out. The screen reads: “ASSET CLASS: HUMANITY — UNPRICED.”)

JOHN (loading his plasma rifle):
Good. That means they can’t hedge it.

Fade to black.