Digital Revolution
On the 29th, the front pages of evening newspapers across San Francisco and the entire United States naturally proclaimed ID Technology's victory. Microsoft now faced the prospect of coughing up a staggering $194 million—an amount that plunged the company into the greatest crisis since its founding.
Microsoft immediately pushed back on the 29th, announcing it would appeal the damages and fines on the grounds that they were excessively heavy. Yet their troubles extended far beyond this single defeat. Countless small businesses and independent developers, including Yoo Jae-won and Gary Kildall, had suffered under Microsoft's heavy-handed tactics. They had long been silenced by the sheer weight of Microsoft's presence, but the situation had changed. Microsoft was no longer an undefeated force in litigation. Its reputation had taken a fatal blow, and signs of internal organizational collapse were beginning to surface. There were countless insiders like James who knew the company's ugly side. If even a few of them rose up and joined forces, the empire's downfall would become inevitable.
The signs of collapse materialized in less than a day. There was no clear path to victory even if Microsoft appealed to the higher courts or took the case all the way to the Supreme Court. James's audio file was simply too perfect a piece of evidence—a smoking gun. No lawyer, not even one capable of sending the devil himself to heaven, could dismantle something so damning. Dragging the case to the final appeal would only pile on more legal costs. Moreover, with consumer trust shattered, there was zero chance that any new software releases would sell as they once had. If MS-DOS still held a perfect monopoly, recovery might have been possible. But now a powerful alternative called Android existed. The bad news kept piling up.
The stock market reacted first and fastest. Microsoft's share price, which had stood at 54 cents per share in early December, plunged on the 29th after the verdict. It dropped below 40 cents in an instant and closed at 38.35 cents. At the start of December 1989, Microsoft's market capitalization had been around $5.6 billion; by the close of trading it had fallen to $3.9 billion. The figure was pitifully small. At least the year-end holiday meant the markets were closed. Had trading continued on a normal weekday, the market cap would surely have fallen even further. As a result, more board members favored filing for bankruptcy and salvaging what they could rather than being picked clean by vultures waiting in line. The option of selling to interested investors or companies was also discussed seriously. In the end, only ruin remained, and the only choices left for Gates and Steve were bankruptcy or sale.
"Bankruptcy?" Yoo Jae-won murmured, his ears perking up at the news. Thanks to the "Gates Gate" scandal, Microsoft was truly on the verge of collapse. The audio files of James and Gates, spreading rapidly online, had become as ubiquitous as a hit song. No wonder even the board, seeing no future, was weighing bankruptcy or sale.
"This could turn into something big if handled right."
Though Microsoft was in ruins, it still possessed valuable assets. It had monopolized the PC operating system market from the late 1970s until now. It held substantial resources, including an attractive distribution network spanning the globe. Even its development team, though currently underutilized due to Gates's mismanagement, remained top-tier.
"Let's see… how much money do I have right now?"
Yoo Jae-won had sworn he wouldn't sit in front of a computer before the 31st, but he could no longer stay idle. He powered up the Egg PC he had brought to the hotel, connected to the internet via modem, opened ID Talk, and pulled up the company's financial documents while grumbling.
"Hmm, less than I thought."
Choi Kang-wook would have been stunned to hear it. ID Technology was currently flush with cash. The land compensation received under the name of ID Investment alone amounted to roughly 49 billion won. After purchasing the Rodeo Street building, about 43 billion won remained in the Export-Import Bank account. In this high-interest-rate era, the monthly interest rate exceeded 1 percent. Simply leaving the money in the bank for two months had generated around 900 million won in interest, bringing the total close to 44 billion won—equivalent to $70 million if converted to dollars.
The settlement from Wolfenstein allocated $10 million to ID Technology. ID Office had generated $25 million in global sales, with net profits after marketing and production costs reaching approximately $22 million. Keyboard Warrior continued to sell steadily as a steady seller. Its background story had also been published as a novel titled Alive, selling around 200,000 copies. Aegis Shield royalties had accumulated nicely as well. Adding all these ancillary revenues brought the total to roughly $6 million. Korean sales could not be ignored either. Final 1989 figures showed nearly 30,000 copies of ID Word Processor Lite sold, along with 5,000 copies of ID Office.
"If I add it all up… about $115 million?"
Since everything had been settled in cash, it was no exaggeration to say ID Technology was overflowing with money. Moreover, the $112 million represented only 1989 earnings; last year's retained earnings were separate.
"And I should add the compensation we'll receive from Microsoft."
The punitive damages alone totaled $194 million. Adding the return of legal costs pushed the figure past $200 million. Of course, ID Technology could not keep all of it. A share had to go to Gary Kildall, their coalition partner. The calculation was simple: they had agreed on an 8:2 split from the beginning. ID Technology had covered all preparation, attorney fees, and even the decisive witness James Augustine, while Kildall had contributed little more than his name. From his perspective, receiving 20 percent for doing nothing was more than satisfactory.
After paying Kildall the promised $40 million, $160 million would remain. Even that was not entirely ID Technology's. Taxes had to be deducted. Compensation for injury or death was tax-free, but this was damages related to corporate profit activities, so heavy taxation applied.
"So the actual amount I'd hold would be around $120 million? Taxes are terrifying."
Adding everything together produced the maximum amount ID Technology could mobilize.
"Even squeezing every last penny, we're looking at roughly $230 million."
To an individual, that was an enormous sum. To a corporation, however, it was not particularly large. It fell far short of what would be needed to acquire Microsoft at its current depressed share price. Yet Yoo Jae-won felt no disappointment. Only a year and a few months had passed since his regression. Building this much from nothing was something to be proud of. After confirming the balance, he closed the program and shut down the computer. He was short on ammunition, but Microsoft was well within striking range. He sank into the plush hotel bed and closed his eyes, making sure to mentally add Microsoft to his shopping cart.
Thus the 30th passed, and finally the last day of 1989—the 31st—arrived. America's premier New Year's celebration was, without question, Times Square in New York. Yet San Francisco's festivities were no less spectacular. The HAPPY NEW YEAR festival centered on Embarcadero Street offered its own unique charm, with views of the Golden Gate Bridge, the harbor, and the San Francisco skyline—distinct from the towering skyscrapers of Times Square.
Whoa! Embarcadero Street was already packed with people. This year, the crowd appeared twice as large as last year's. Police estimates put last year's attendance at 100,000; this year, over 200,000 had gathered. The difference lay in ID Technology's sponsorship and its integration with the Security Challenge. ID Technology had poured nearly $1 million into fireworks, stage setups, and other expenses, creating an extravaganza of dazzling proportions.
The centerpiece was a massive screen built with large projectors. White sheets were hung on tall buildings visible from Embarcadero Street, creating not one but six screens. These displayed the main stage for distant spectators, preserving the festival's energy. While LED lighting had not yet been commercialized, the latest equipment gave the event a distinctly Silicon Valley flair. Later CBS and NBC coverage would make the difference in "production value" between the two cities unmistakably clear.
The star guest was Madonna, at the height of her 1980s fame. Sound, lighting, and staging were prepared at concert level, ensuring her performance was world-class. The investment was not wasted. Between songs, large screens played ID Technology image advertisements. The "ID" logo hung prominently around the main stage, and hats and glow sticks distributed to attendees to ward off the cold were covered in the same logo. From a distance, the 200,000-strong crowd looked as though they had come for an "ID" rock concert.
Moreover, at 1:00 a.m. on January 1, 1990, ID Technology would take over the stage. Yoo Jae-won and other executives would ascend to announce the Security Challenge results live. Preparations had been underway for nearly a month, and attendance projections had been calculated early. Remington, Ellen, and other organizers had expected around 120,000 people—only a 20 percent increase over last year—and prepared accordingly. A 20 percent rise would already count as a success.
Yet the actual turnout had doubled. "What…?" It was not a 20 percent increase but a full 100 percent. Madonna was currently performing her Billboard chart-topping hits on stage, but her drawing power alone could not explain the extra 80,000 people.
"Then there's only one answer."
The additional 80,000 had come specifically to witness ID Technology's Security Challenge. ID Technology's influence was even stronger online. Its private BBS was overwhelmed with simultaneous connections, and other PC networks showed similar congestion. Chat rooms and bulletin boards overflowed with people celebrating the New Year while participating in the Security Challenge. Downloads of the IDW file and the Gates Gate audio file had reached numbers too high to track accurately. In America, the digitization of data had already become commonplace, and online influence was beginning to manifest in the real world.
—Wow! I thought Silicon Valley would be full of bookish types, but you've got some real fire in you! Let's all scream together!
Whoaaaa!
Madonna's shout drew a unified roar from the crowd.
"Ah, you startled me!"
Yoo Jae-won, lost in thought, jumped at Madonna's surprise remark and the citizens' roar.
—I'd love to keep the energy going with the next song, but we have to mark the New Year! Let's all count down together!!
Startled by the mention of a countdown, Yoo Jae-won checked his watch—11:59. Before he could process how quickly time had flown, the giant projector screen behind the stage displayed the number 60. It was not a simple numeral. A professional commercial director had woven footage of 1989's most memorable events—political, economic, and social—into the countdown, set to music. Clips of the Tiananmen Square incident and the fall of the Berlin Wall appeared alongside subtle shots of Keyboard Warrior and ID Office, inserted at ID Technology's request.
As the numbers descended to 10, the montage vanished, leaving only the massive numerals. Yoo Jae-won's thoughts drifted once more. Scholars of his previous life had observed this phenomenon and coined a fitting term: the Digital Revolution. The digital revolution sparked by ID Technology was already in full swing in the real world, and tonight's gathering was living proof.
"Then the theme for next year is decided."
—3, 2, 1! Happy New Year!
—Shall we greet the New Year with the excitement of a virgin? Like a virgin!
Something suggestive seemed to have been said, but Yoo Jae-won focused on the crucial point. If the Digital Revolution caused an explosion of computer data, then a dedicated high-speed highway for rapid data exchange between computers would naturally become essential.