The Digital Revolution
The Digital Revolution. "Huh? The 22nd?" Coincidentally, November 22nd was also tied to Android Alpha. The 100th day since its release was fast approaching. A hundred days wasn't a milestone celebrated only by lovers. ID Technology had made its own promise regarding the 100 days: the distribution of Android Alpha's first patch.
Because the capable Yoo Jae-won was at the helm of ID Technology, the team wasn't scrambling to meet the patch deadline. The direction of the patch had been decided long ago. The Silicon Valley development team was steadily building the first patch according to Yoo Jae-won's vision without any confusion, though their pace was slow enough that he would likely need to lend a hand again. He also had to return to school quickly after missing nine days due to Comdex. Though the Ministry of Education had granted approval so the absences wouldn't be recorded as such, only six days—the actual duration of the Comdex event—were officially recognized. The remaining three counted as absences. Given that Yoo Jae-won had already taken several unexcused days off before, returning early was the surest way to graduate without incident. In short, it meant he couldn't attend the trial in person.
Yoo Jae-won had wanted to witness Microsoft's legal team collapse on-site, but that was no longer possible. Still, this wasn't a criminal case—it was civil. Neither Gates nor Steve would appear as key figures in a civil matter, so his absence wouldn't pose a major problem. Besides, no trial concluded after a single hearing. The evidence and rebuttal materials ID Technology planned to present were extensive, and Microsoft's counterarguments would likely be just as voluminous. Reviewing everything would take weeks, meaning the final ruling would probably fall during winter break.
Lost in these thoughts, the plane that departed Las Vegas touched down at San Francisco International Airport. Though they had arrived, Yoo Jae-won and his party didn't leave the airport. There was no reason to stop by the Silicon Valley office. Instead, they headed straight for their connecting flight to Korea.
"If any variables arise in the trial, please let me know without fail," Yoo Jae-won instructed Remington and Ellen, who had come to see him off before he entered the departure gate.
"Of course. I'll flood your inbox with every detail about the proceedings," Remington replied, thumping his chest with confidence. He understood full well that the company's fate hung in the balance.
"And this time, you can trust Ellen and our legal team."
"Haha, yes. Remington is right. I'm not one to make promises lightly when it comes to trials, but this case is different. Thanks to the solid foundation you've laid, Boss, we've built a case we absolutely cannot lose—even against Microsoft. We will win."
Ellen reinforced Remington's words. The fact that Ellen, who rarely made bold claims, spoke with such certainty reassured Yoo Jae-won. He nodded.
"Yes, that's reassuring. Then we'll leave it in your hands."
With one less worry thanks to Ellen's assurance, Yoo Jae-won walked toward the departure gate with a lighter step.
After half a day's flight, Yoo Jae-won arrived in Korea. Though he wanted to head straight home, his first stop was Seoul. He had promised to drop off Choi Kang-wook, who was exhausted from the long flight, at his house. A driver had come with a car for Choi Kang-wook, but the luggage brought from America was so voluminous that it filled the trunks of two vehicles and still overflowed. There were Egg PCs, the latest computer components unavailable in Korea, gifts for acquaintances, and all manner of other items. They loaded everything into Kim Dae-seok's Grandeur and sent it ahead to Yeoju. Yoo Jae-won and Choi Kang-wook boarded the remaining car and headed for Choi Kang-wook's home first.
After dropping Choi Kang-wook off, Yoo Jae-won should have gone home, but he chose the Seoul branch instead. It was close to Choi Kang-wook's house, and since he was already in the area, he decided to stop by. Moreover, they had arrived in Seoul in the morning—prime working hours. With the top two executives away on a U.S. business trip, he wanted to check whether work discipline had slipped. The office, however, was running at full speed.
"We've been incredibly busy. Orders for ID Office suddenly poured in, and we could barely keep up with the volume," said Lim Chun-hee, who had once been Choi Kang-wook's assistant and now handled accounting at the Seoul office. She handed Yoo Jae-won a summary report of sales during his absence. It was quite thick. Yoo Jae-won didn't bother examining the daily figures in detail. At his level, only the final totals on the last page mattered.
Surprisingly, there were over ten thousand orders for ID Word Processor Lite alone. More than two thousand sets of ID Office had also sold. Normally, ID Word sales in Korea hovered in the low hundreds. Even that had seemed substantial to Yoo Jae-won. In an era when even 286 machines were considered high-end and software piracy was rampant, demand for legitimate copies came only from government offices and companies that strictly followed the law. Even those entities often used pirated versions when funds were tight. Selling two or three hundred copies was nothing short of miraculous. Yet orders had exploded just days earlier.
"Don't tell me… this is…"
Looking closely at the dates, something clicked.
"Your presentation at Comdex was broadcast on television countless times! It's been like this ever since that day."
As expected, it was Comdex. Koreans had a particular fondness for American products alongside Japanese ones. Seeing ID Office become the trend in America, they were rushing to follow suit. Since most didn't own 386 machines, they were buying ID Word Processor in bulk as the next best thing. After all, few office roles required the full suite of ID Office functions, but nearly everyone used word processing. Demand was enormous. Ten thousand copies now could easily become a hundred thousand in a few years.
All software sales were cash transactions. No promissory notes—payment was required upfront. Thanks to that, over 400 million won had come in from ID Word sales alone. Meanwhile, Director Kang Chan-ho was reportedly running himself ragged trying to produce the volume. At this rate, Yoo Jae-won figured he really needed to establish a proper packaging factory. Relying on Electronic Arts for U.S. sales was bleeding too much money. Producing in-house would save costs and allow them to proudly claim export achievements.
"Ah, and the new Minister of Communications wants to meet you, sir."
"The Minister of Communications?"
Minister Oh Myung, who had been particularly supportive of Yoo Jae-won, had been replaced in the summer. He had never exchanged direct correspondence with the new minister.
"Ugh, going down and back up is such a hassle. Ask if I can come right now."
At Yoo Jae-won's instruction, Lim Chun-hee made several calls and soon nodded. Her expression alone told him the meeting could happen immediately. The new minister's name was Hong Byung-do. After getting into the car driven by Kim Dae-seok and reviewing the relevant information, Yoo Jae-won felt a flicker of surprise at the name. In the original timeline, Oh Myung's successor had been Lee Hae-wook—a man who had served as Vice Minister of the Presidential Secretariat before his promotion. He was someone President Roh had placed in the Secretariat, which managed the Blue House's internal affairs, indicating a long-standing relationship dating back to their military days. The Communications Ministry post had been a brief stepping stone for Lee Hae-wook's career. He hadn't even completed a full year before moving on to become president of Korea Telecom. Naturally, President Roh's inner circle had been involved. Placing his close associate at Korea Telecom was part of a larger scheme to funnel the mobile communications business to Seonjeong Group, the family of the president's son-in-law.
Seonjeong Group had started as a small chemical company producing vinyl and plastics. It expanded into cassette and videotapes using synthetic resins, but that remained a modest operation. The most critical asset for a chemical company was the refining facilities for crude oil, a massive plant-level investment. Small Seonjeong hadn't possessed such facilities, leaving it vulnerable to external shocks. Everything changed when it suddenly acquired Korea Petroleum Corporation in 1980. Last year, the group's eldest son married the current president's daughter, propelling Seonjeong into the ranks of Korea's major chaebols through its entry into mobile communications.
"What's going on?"
President Roh handing the mobile communications business to Seonjeong Group was already a fixed trajectory. Yet the man originally meant to handle that process—Lee Hae-wook—hadn't been appointed Minister of Communications. Had the variables Yoo Jae-won created reached this far? Still, without any information on Hong Byung-do, he couldn't draw conclusions.
I'll find out when I meet him.
Yoo Jae-won's contemplation didn't last long.
"I'm Hong Byung-do. It's a pleasure to meet you, Yoo Jae-won—the nation's treasure. I've heard plenty about you from former Minister Oh Myung."
"I'm honored that you remember me, Minister."
As Yoo Jae-won faced Hong Byung-do, he offered polite pleasantries he didn't truly feel. The man's character was immediately apparent. Hong Byung-do was even more brazen than Lee Hae-wook would have been. Though dressed in a suit, his demeanor and speech still carried the air of a soldier. After all, Hong Byung-do had been the division commander of the very unit President Roh had once led as a general. Only months after retiring, he had been placed directly into the Communications Ministry post. In the 21st century, such an appointment would have been unthinkable. By then, the word "soldier" carried largely positive connotations—an image of a steadfast shield protecting the nation in peacetime and a helping hand during typhoons or heavy snow. But this was 1989. The mention of a soldier, especially a general, evoked the classic negative image, and Hong Byung-do embodied it completely. The personnel hearing law had been enacted during President Roh's second term. Though imperfect, it had served as an effective filter. Had Hong Byung-do gone through such a hearing, he never would have secured this position. He was the kind of person whose presence in uniform was detrimental to the country—someone stained with all manner of corruption. Appointing such a man as Minister of Communications made President Roh's intentions crystal clear. The mobile communications business was to be firmly secured for his in-laws' company. Moreover, the Communications Ministry appeared to offer numerous opportunities for personal gain.