The Gift
The Consumer Electronics Show, or CES, was a sprawling fair dedicated to consumer gadgets.
TVs, refrigerators, air conditioners, smartphones, vacuum cleaners—every kind of electronic product filled the halls.
Booths stretched on without end. When I asked, they told me there were more than ten thousand of them.
Having finished my own presentation, I wandered the fair with a light heart.
Because of the crowds, Chief of Staff Jang Dae-shik pushed my wheelchair while two security staff stayed close behind.
"Chief Jang. Today's the last day, right?"
"That's correct. Tomorrow we move to LA for the auction."
My first-ever presentation in front of thousands of people. The blazing intensity of CES would end today.
Tomorrow I would go convert the very product I had unveiled into money.
A little reluctant to let it go, I drifted here and there, savoring the final hours.
"Sir. Shall we head that way?"
I followed the direction Jang indicated and saw a booth displaying prosthetic legs for the disabled.
As expected, the Chief had good instincts.
When we reached it, I found several people with disabilities similar to my own.
In my case both knees remained; only everything below the knee had been amputated.
A few of the visitors were trying on prosthetics.
Jang looked mildly startled at a woman changing her prosthetic nearby.
Where a knee should have been, there was an ankle—and it was facing backward.
In other words, the lower leg was missing entirely; the foot was attached directly and rotated the wrong way.
I explained.
"Chief Jang. That's what they do when the knee is destroyed—they attach the ankle in its place, turned around."
"The ankle as a knee?"
"Yes. Normally if you amputate above the knee you lose the joint, so even with a prosthetic walking is hard. But if you reverse the ankle and mount it where the knee should be, that ankle becomes the joint. Then when you put the prosthetic on, you can walk almost as if you still had a knee."
I wiggled my wrist to demonstrate how the ankle would flex like a knee.
"I see. Because a knee bends one way and an ankle the other, they flip it. Fascinating."
"Exactly."
"It looks a little startling the first time you see it. Cosmetically it's not ideal, but having a joint makes walking far easier."
"So functionally it's much better."
"Right. Function matters more than looks."
"Do you have prosthetics yourself, sir?"
A prosthetic was essential equipment for anyone whose legs had been amputated.
"I have a pair at home."
But once you started using them, the contact points ached under your body weight. In summer they grew sweaty and smelled.
Because I still had my knees, walking wasn't terribly difficult—on flat ground, at least. Stairs and slopes were another matter, and dangerous.
The government provided a subsidy, but only one prosthetic every five years.
Everyday legs and sports legs were different models, and you needed spares; anything beyond that single unit came out of pocket.
And because each prosthetic was custom-molded to the residual limb, a single fitting cost at least several hundred thousand. A wheelchair that cost only a few hundred thousand won felt far more comfortable.
If my life had required constant travel I would have forced myself to adapt, but until now my world had been limited to home and the electronics shop.
Why put up with pain and expense when I barely left those two places?
Staff who looked Indian approached me from the prosthetic booth.
"Welcome. Our prosthetics are cutting-edge robotic legs powered by artificial intelligence."
"Robotic prosthetics?"
"Yes. Conventional ones are basically just shaped supports—stands that look like legs. If you've ever worn one, you know how uncomfortable that is."
I gave a small nod.
It had felt like dragging around a heavy chunk of iron.
"A robotic prosthetic, however, contains motors, sensors, and a battery. It can generate force and move the way a real leg does."
"The leg moves on its own?"
"Exactly. Climbing stairs with an ordinary prosthetic means the user has to haul their whole body up with the remaining thigh muscles, since there's no calf. With a robotic prosthetic the sensors read the foot's motion and the motors supply power, so you can climb stairs naturally."
"So the AI acts as the calf muscle? Matching the timing?"
"That's right."
"Wow. That's impressive."
I was genuinely surprised.
"Would you like to try them on?"
"Sure."
I fitted the silicone cushion over the residual limb below my knee, pulled on the special prosthetic sock that covered it, and seated the limb into the socket of the main unit.
"The locking system is suction-based."
Vacuum suction. Neither loose nor painfully tight.
"Oh. Not bad at all."
"Not bad? This product is outstanding. Try walking."
I found my balance and stood.
Step.
Huh?
Step, step.
"This really is outstanding."
I could feel the ankle articulating. It felt as if calf muscles I no longer had were helping me.
"On a full charge you can walk for five hours."
"And the price?"
"Two hundred thousand dollars."
In Korean money, two hundred fifty million won.
An AI prosthetic with superb performance, but the price tag was hardly cheap.
A single sale had brought in a hundred billion won, yet I had also bought a building and hired staff; I couldn't just throw money around.
A sum that made me hesitate.
I decided I would think about it after the auction.
A sudden stir rose from one side of the hall.
"Looks like a celebrity showed up."
This was CES. The world's richest people or famous faces appearing here wouldn't be strange at all.
As entrepreneurs and visitors from every country thronged the aisles, a white wave of people parted in the distance.
Through that gap strode a man with an imposing gait.
He wore a loose, flowing white robe-like garment and a red-checkered headcloth fixed with a black cord across the forehead.
A thick beard and full traditional Arab dress.
Step, step.
The Arab man offered a greeting.
"Marhaban. Peace be upon you. A pleasure to meet you."
I had no idea who he was, but the iron ring of bodyguards around him made it obvious at a glance that he was wealthy.
The presence of the escort and the aura he projected said he was no ordinary person.
"Hello."
The interpreter beside him supplied the explanation.
"This gentleman is the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia, as well as Prime Minister, Minister of Defense, Chairman of the Economic Development Board, Chairman of the Development Committee, and… Chairman of the Public Investment Fund of Saudi Arabia."
Crown Prince and, and, and…
A man of many concurrent titles.
In short, the real power in Saudi Arabia.
From behind my wheelchair Jang whispered,
"The Saudi sovereign wealth fund exceeds one thousand trillion won. This is the man who moves it."
Ah… now I remembered.
Arab men all wore the same clothes, the same head covering, the same heavy beards; telling them apart was difficult.
But I had seen him on television.
The Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia who managed a fund of one thousand trillion won.
His real name was Abdul; his nickname was Mr. Everything.
There was a saying on the internet:
If money can't buy happiness, perhaps you simply don't have enough money.
If something seems impossible to buy with money, just use more money.
From that perspective, Abdul was a man who could do anything.
Hence the name Mr. Everything.
Abdul—Mr. Everything—asked,
"You are the head of JH, are you not?"
"I am."
"I have heard your technological prowess is exceptional. And I am fond of companies with exceptional technology."
Word of my presentation had clearly traveled far.
"I understand you are close with Wilson Hwang, Aaron Merks, and others."
Rumors moved quickly.
"JH manufactures semiconductors, correct? Wilson Hwang also manufactures semiconductors. Does that not make the two of you competitors in essence?"
Competitors.
Honestly, I had never thought that far.
I had only just released two chips; who exactly was I supposed to be competing with?
But Mr. Everything seemed to see things differently.
"I possess no technology, yet I have a great deal of money. JH has technology, yet little money."
I could tell how he viewed me.
A cash-strapped venture with outstanding tech.
I wanted to argue, but couldn't quite bring myself to.
I might well look like a poor engineer who had done nothing but research.
Would saying I had just earned a hundred billion won make me seem less pitiful?
"However friendly you may be with American Big Tech, you and they are competitors by nature. We are not. By nature we are destined to become friends."
I answered with polite hospitality.
"Haha. Kind words."
"Tomorrow I shall demonstrate whether I am worthy of being your friend. May Allah be with you."
"Ah, yes."
With a smooth turn, Mr. Everything and his entourage departed.
Tomorrow he would show whether he could become a friend? What did that mean?
I asked Jang.
"What do you think he meant by that?"
"Hmm… perhaps he intends to participate in the auction?"
"Ah."
It wasn't that he would show whether I could become his friend.
He had said he would show that he could become mine.
Until yesterday I had assumed Wilson Hwang would walk away with the twenty-layer HBM at tomorrow's auction.
Wilson had taken the previous lot, and the more you already knew, the more you could see; taking a twenty-layer unit when you were only making five would teach him a great deal.
But now I realized something.
"Of course… you can't hold an auction and leave out the Middle Eastern billionaires."
"Indeed."
Jang was trembling at the declaration of entry by a Middle Eastern tycoon.
I swallowed hard without meaning to.
"How high do you think he'll go?"
"Well… I believe we can afford to look forward to it."
The next day.
The auction house in LA.
Last time it had been Washington; this time they had chosen LA so it would be relatively close.
I had assumed every auction house felt the same, but the atmosphere here was nothing like Washington.
Compared with this place, the Washington venue had felt almost like a political stage—marble, classical architecture, lobbyists in suits.
Here? It felt like a television show.
A red carpet from the entrance, lights and music, influencers posing for camera flashes.
Even the auctioneer seemed to be enjoying the spectacle.
"Next item… wow! Have you heard of it? The world's tallest, the world's highest-performance semiconductor! Here it is! The product that set this year's CES on fire! A twenty-layer stacked semiconductor! The~~~ Blue~~~ Tower~~~!!"
The delivery was pure pro-wrestling hype.
As the auctioneer's voice rolled through the room, every eye turned to the podium.
When the black velvet cloth was swept aside, the twenty-layer HBM sealed inside its glass case was revealed.
Catching the light, the structure glittered like a crystal tower—worthy of being called the crystallisation of technology.
Shock and admiration burst out together among the hushed audience.
The auctioneer flung both arms wide in an exaggerated gesture, as if presenting a royal treasure, and drove the atmosphere higher.
"This is no mere semiconductor! It is the key that will rewrite industrial hegemony, an item on which a nation might stake its future! What you are witnessing at this very moment is… the new crown of technology!"
He slammed the desk and shouted,
"Opening bid: ten million dollars! Welcome to the auction of the century!"
Paddles flashed at once.
"Twelve million!"
"Fifteen million!"
"Eighteen million!"
"Twenty million!"
As the price climbed the auctioneer roared even louder.
"Twenty million dollars broken! Who will go higher?"
Hands shot up, paddles rose, and the price climbed without a pause for breath.
"Twenty-five million!"
"Thirty million!"
"Thirty-five million!"
With every leap the crowd gasped, and the auction house grew as heated as a battlefield.
"Ninety million! Ninety-five million! One hundred million dollars!"
The attendees drew sharp breaths.
Among the bidders there were surprisingly many East Asians.
Their clothes and subtle mannerisms suggested they were Chinese.
The auction continued.
"One hundred ten million!"
"One hundred twenty million!"
Then, at a certain moment, an Arab figure wearing a headcloth leaned back in his seat and calmly raised a small paddle.
"Two hundred million."
Every gaze snapped toward him in an instant.
I watched from the viewing room.
There he is at last. The Middle Eastern billionaire.
Yet the other participants had not given up.
A white man followed the bid.
"Two hundred ten million."
The Arab answered at once.
"Three hundred million."
"Gah!"
After a brief hesitation a Chinese bidder followed.
"Three hundred ten million."
The Arab replied immediately.
"Four hundred million."
The Chinese man looked irritated but could not keep pace.
A white man came after him.
"Four hundred ten million."
The white man still chasing. I thought I had seen him somewhere in the rows behind Wilson Hwang.
But the Arab was merciless.
"Five hundred million."
The Arab's expression remained utterly at ease.
Around the room faces asked whether anyone should even try to follow that.
The auction house held its breath.
Reading the mood, the auctioneer raised his gavel and thundered,
"Five hundred million dollars! Did you hear that, ladies and gentlemen? Five! Hundred! Million!!"
The white man who had reached four hundred ten million hesitated, then shook his head and sank back into his seat.
The Chinese bidder lowered his hand as well.
No one else could follow.
The auctioneer's voice rolled like thunder.
"Any further bids? Five hundred million dollars! If there are none by the count of three, it is sold. One, two, three! Sold!"
Bang bang bang!
The gavel of the final sale crashed down.
Without realizing it I clenched both fists.
Five hundred million dollars. Roughly seven hundred billion won.
The price of a single semiconductor that could not even cover half my palm.
That Arab had to be the agent of the Mr. Everything I had met yesterday.
Who else would buy it at that price?
His claim that he would prove he was worthy of friendship.
Acknowledged. Drop five hundred million dollars and you're a friend.
Friend Day One starts today.
Knock knock.
"Yes."
A staff member entered the viewing room where I had been watching the sale.
"The winning bidder's side says they have a gift for the seller. You may meet them, accept only the gift, or decline entirely."
Friend Day One. Of course I would meet them.
"I'll meet them."
The winning bidder, dressed in traditional Arab attire, bowed deeply to me.
"I am the representative of Prince Abdul. I have come to deliver a gift from His Highness."
I had already received more than enough gifts from the auction itself, yet here was another.
I opened the large box he handed me.
"Ah!"
I could not help being astonished by the gift the agent had brought.
Inside the large box lay a pair of prosthetic legs.
They were the very AI prosthetics I had seen yesterday at CES.
"Wow… thank you so much."
Yesterday's legs, only now the exterior had been painted gold.
To have them plated and gifted in a single day… I was genuinely moved.
Surely it wasn't real gold?
And the toenails glittered.
Looking closer, I saw cubic zirconia set into them.
Cubic zirconia on the toenails. A little funny.
I smiled and said to the agent,
"The toenail stones look just like diamonds. That's amusing. Hahaha."
The agent smiled with quiet satisfaction.
Nah. No way.
They couldn't actually be diamonds… right?