Foundry (1)
JH Research headquarters.
"Sir, the approval documents."
I opened the folder the secretary held out. I was the CEO of JH Research now, which meant I had to grow accustomed to receiving paperwork like this in the executive office. I read through the documents with quiet focus until one line snagged my eye.
"Glass is expensive."
More precisely, the glass used to etch semiconductor masks. "The glass runs ten million won a sheet, and with a hundred sheets that makes a billion. Then the cases that hold twenty-five plates each cost fifty million, times four—another two hundred million."
How large was a sheet of glass that cost ten million won? Barely 15.2 cm by 15.2 cm—about the span of a hand. And yet each one was ten million.
"Still… if Illys asks for them, how can I refuse?"
Of course it was no ordinary glass. Impurities near zero, not the faintest micro-scratch, perfectly flat with zero curvature—glass meant for semiconductor masks. The storage cases priced themselves to match. A full month had already passed since I shipped twelve hundred million won's worth of those cases.
Illys had thrown herself into the work as though she had forgotten even to eat. She was so relentless I nearly suggested postponing our semiconductor lessons. You know the feeling—watching a student grind so hard you want to tell them to slow down, to rest. That was exactly how Illys looked.
"Well then… shall I take a look?"
I powered on the smartphone. Beyond the screen the pastoral landscape of Rodrigues unfolded. With a few light taps I guided the view to the place where Illys was working.
"Whoa…"
A gasp slipped out before I could stop it. Dozens of workers stood atop the transparent glass plates, each gripping a hammer, carving metal with the precision of a living printing press. The process of coating the glass with metal was proceeding so smoothly it almost defied belief. I had expected them to melt the metal and spread it, yet there was no melting stage at all.
The sequence was simple. First Illys cast her magic. Floating in the air was a three-dimensional composite structure—an already completed semiconductor form. One cross-section of that semiconductor overlaid the glass and etched itself in a soft glow. The workers then followed the light with their tools. The dwarves made no mistakes. To my eye the work was flawless, though among themselves they sometimes found fault. Whenever that happened, dwarf master craftsmen behind the workers—hammers as thick as a forearm in their hands—flashed sharp eyes.
These people have golden hands for real…
Dwarves truly were masters of their craft. Sheet after sheet, glass plates engraved with metal stacked higher and higher.
"Magnificent…"
Wait—cheers and celebration? It seemed they had finished a semiconductor mask. Illys changed into a white dress and began to pray. I wondered how that wardrobe change even worked. I wanted to swap clothes that easily myself.
Vrrr.
Right on cue, the smartphone rang.
"Yes."
"Constellation. I have sent the tribute."
"It's finished?"
"Yes. Thanks to the Constellation's grace, we were able to complete the mask set."
They had done all the hard work themselves—why hand me the credit? I was not the sort who stole other people's achievements.
"I didn't do anything. I know how hard you and the dwarves worked."
"No. It was the Constellation's teachings that raised me to the Fifth Circle in the first place. Without those teachings I could never have reached the Fifth Circle, and without that I could never have designed a semiconductor at all."
"What I taught you was honestly basic knowledge—master's level from a semiconductor department in our world. Over there it would be about the same as the magic slaves of a mage tower."
"Ah… so a graduate master's is on par with a magic slave."
"Uh… well… anyway, I'll gratefully accept it."
"Yes! Thank you!"
"I should be thanking you more."
"No. I am more grateful."
"I'm more—"
"I am—"
"I'm—"
"I am—"
Before we knew it the exchange had turned into a gratitude battle.
"I'm—"
"I am—"
"Illys. I'm the Constellation. Is it wrong for me to say I'm more grateful?"
"Ah! Forgive me."
"I'm kidding. Just kidding."
"Is that so?"
"Of course. Everything you said is right."
"Heehee."
"Hahaha."
Maybe it was just me, but ever since I had formally proposed a contract, Illys's responses had softened a little. Before, she had been as stiff as a private speaking to a division commander; now the dynamic felt closer to a platoon leader and a senior private who could take a joke.
After a while of batting words back and forth with Illys, I ended the call.
"Let's check the tribute first."
I pressed the tribute button on the smartphone. A soft light gathered for a moment on the table where I had been reviewing documents, and four cases appeared. They looked no different from the ones I had sent.
I pressed the intercom on the corner of the desk.
Beep.
"Yes, sir."
"Please call Chief of Staff Jang Dae-shik."
"Yes, sir. Right away."
Knock, knock.
"Come in."
Moments later Chief Jang entered.
"You called for me?"
I pointed at the mask cases.
"These are masks."
Chief Jang tilted his head.
"Face masks, sir?"
"Excuse me?"
I stared at him as if he had lost his mind.
"I'm joking, sir."
"Ah… right."
"Of course. I'm the chief of staff of a semiconductor research institute—how could I not know what a mask is? And I was the one who purchased these glass plates."
Illys, Chief Jang—everyone was loosening up a little. We could even trade jokes now. If I had to map my relationship with Chief Jang onto military ranks, it felt somewhere between a staff sergeant and a platoon leader.
"Sir, these are the mask glass plates from last time, correct? What do you intend to do with them?"
What did he think? The work was already finished.
"Chief Jang, these have all been engraved."
"…Sir?"
"They're not plain glass. Every single one is a finished metal-etched mask."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Where?"
"Hmm… want me to tell you?"
"Hmm… no."
A snort of laughter escaped me.
"You're not curious?"
"No, sir. I would like to live a long life."
Apparently the kidnapping incident had left a deep impression.
"Haha. That so?"
"Yes. In any case, these glass plates must now be enormously valuable."
"They are. Around a billion won a sheet, I'd guess."
"Twenty-five per case… all together that's… a hundred billion?"
"About that."
Chief Jang nodded.
"Even if I don't ask where the work was done, someone has to be paid, don't they? It can't have been free."
To Chief Jang the cost question was only natural. Who would perform a hundred-billion-won job for nothing? But the Nano World had no need for money. Even if we offered currency from this side, over there it would mean no more than paper.
"You don't need to worry about them."
"…Sir?"
"Just give them some jerky."
"Jerky? What kind of jerky?"
"You know, the edible kind. Dried meat."
"Ah… the kind that goes well with drinks?"
"Yes. Jerky is popular over there. It's meat, keeps forever, and the salt makes it taste good."
"Where exactly?"
"There's a place. You said you weren't going to ask."
"Ah… correct. I am not curious."
Chief Jang still looked like he very much wanted to know where a hundred-billion-won job had been done. He stole a sidelong glance at me.
"What is it?"
"Sir… surely the jerky isn't… human… is it?"
"What? What kind of imagination is that?"
"I am not curious."
The aftereffects of the kidnapping really did seem severe.
"Chief Jang. Now that we have the masks, we need to find a plant that can turn them into actual semiconductors."
"A plant… you mean a foundry, sir?"
"Exactly."
Originally a foundry meant a metal-casting works. In the semiconductor industry, however, it referred to companies that specialized solely in contract manufacturing without doing their own design. Domestically the top foundry was Osung; worldwide it was Taiwan's TSNC.
We had no fabrication plant of our own—only the design—so by definition we were a fabless company. Design only: fabless. Contract manufacturing only: foundry. Semiconductor production required such vast capital that the world had settled into a clear division of labor. Places with S-class talent and high labor costs handled design; places with plenty of A-class talent and moderate costs handled production. Regions with deep craftsmanship traditions supplied specialty components and equipment. Nations that could offer only cheap labor simply could not enter the game. You needed both enormous capital and elite talent to even attempt it.
"Chief, which foundry is the best?"
"Domestic number one, or world number one?"
"World number one."
"Then Taiwan's TSNC is the top."
Taiwan's TSNC. It was less a company than a national survival project the island had nurtured with everything it had.
"Is that so? Let's contact them."
Chief Jang eyed the mask cases.
"I doubt any company walks in carrying finished masks."
"Heh. Yet here we are."
I lifted a case like a handbag and smiled.
"Let's go. To Taiwan."
Taiwan was an island nation roughly 160 km off China's southeastern coast. To the west the Taiwan Strait faced China; to the east the Pacific opened wide; to the north lay Japan's Okinawa, to the south the Philippines—making it a strategic crossroads of East Asian traffic.
Three hours by plane from Korea. We headed south, but not especially far west. South-southwest, one might say. Before long the cabin announcement reported our approach.
I turned to Chief of Staff Jang Dae-shik in the seat beside me.
"Taiwan has friction with China, right?"
"It does. China claims Taiwan is Chinese territory. Taiwan never officially says otherwise, yet it lives like an independent nation."
China was a multi-ethnic state with so many regions pushing for independence that it had no choice but to hammer the "One China" doctrine. If Taiwan formally declared itself independent, it would amount to a declaration of war against China—and as a small island nation, Taiwan had no military chance of matching China. So China insisted they were one country, while Taiwan simply went about living as two. That was the arrangement.
"Which is why Taiwan is even more serious about semiconductors."
"Why?"
"Because they don't want to be absorbed by China. The United States is hardly going to sit idle and watch China swallow the world's number-one semiconductor producer."
"They're staking their survival on chips?"
"Essentially. They even call it the Silicon Shield."
"Wow. No wonder they're number one."
When a country built semiconductors with its life on the line, world dominance was almost inevitable.
Ding-dong.
The cabin announcement sounded, and moments later the plane touched down. With seats as comfortable as beds, the three-hour flight had been restful.
"The wheelchair is ready."
Guided by the flight attendant, I left my seat.
"Careful, sir."
As I stepped off the aircraft, the humid warmth of the southern island nation wrapped around me.