The Heritage Bargain
The Information Super-Highway was no empty promise. Microsoft’s donations to the Heritage Foundation probably amounted to no more than a few hundred thousand dollars at most. By around 2010 the foundation’s entire budget would finally exceed thirty million dollars. Twenty years earlier, its scale would have been considerably smaller—likely under ten million. In that environment, a single one-million-dollar donation from ID Technology would leave a lasting impression of Yoo Jae-won’s presence. Of course, there would be a price: Democratic figures in the United States would not look kindly on him. If Heritage was the brain of the Republican Party, then the Brookings Institution served the same role for the Democrats. The two think tanks had long clashed in both policy and academia. Still, the next election was far off. Connections with the Democrats could be cultivated later.
“You seem to care a great deal about security yourself, so you’ll understand this well,” Edwin Feulner said. “A PC operating system is the alpha and omega of computer-system security.”
Yoo Jae-won nodded. He agreed in principle, though he doubted MS-DOS possessed any meaningful security architecture. DOS itself was an operating system with no security at all—an open door. Once a virus executed, it could easily corrupt both applications and system files; there was no basic protection whatsoever.
“Yet there are many officials in the Department of Defense and intelligence agencies who cannot tolerate a foreign company seizing control of such a critical piece of infrastructure. It isn’t mere nationalism; it is directly tied to national security. Given the current Bush administration’s leanings, ‘many’ is an understatement. We should say an overwhelming majority. And that isn’t all. I hear ID Technology is preparing to launch a formal PC communication service?”
“Yes. The private BBS we ran temporarily for the Security Challenge received an excellent response. Operating it also gave us many ideas for new online services.”
“As expected, ID Technology’s execution is impressive. Still, communication networks are also critical national infrastructure. Conservatives will oppose that as well.”
It was exactly the reaction Yoo Jae-won had anticipated.
“But isn’t America the land of neoliberalism? There seem to be quite a few restrictions.”
Yoo Jae-won grumbled, half in irritation.
Feulner chuckled. “Of course America remains the land of opportunity. The more successful you become, the more jobs and ancillary benefits you create for the United States. ID Office has already raised corporate efficiency, and the AES-256 algorithm has given us an edge in intelligence operations against the Soviet Union and China.”
The Cold War was over. Or was it? The Soviet collapse would come in 1991—still roughly a year away.
“All of this is thanks to you, which is why government officials are growing increasingly anxious. And you are only fourteen years old. The expectations for what you will accomplish next are enormous. At the same time, there is considerable concern about whether Korea can adequately protect you.”
The word “protect” carried several layers of meaning—physical safety as well as insulation from various forms of influence.
“We have already blocked three attempts by Soviet and Chinese agents to approach you while you were in Korea. The Korean Agency for National Security Planning failed to stop even one of them. Have you received any contact from the Korean government?”
Really? That had happened? It was hard to believe, yet there was no reason to doubt it. After all, Yoo Jae-won knew better than anyone—better even than Edwin Feulner—how underqualified the Agency for National Security Planning truly was. Even after it became the National Intelligence Service, its capabilities remained unchanged.
“So what is your conclusion?”
Feulner cleared his throat. “It’s simple. If the United States can protect you directly, every problem disappears. The final obstacle to national security vanishes, allowing your operating system and communication ventures to proceed smoothly. You will compete on merit alone. Raising large-scale capital for major projects will also become far easier. Naturally, you will receive a different level of protection from the Soviet Union and China.”
As expected, the conversation had turned to citizenship. The offer had arrived two or three years earlier than planned, however. Because his master plan had activated ahead of schedule, America’s response had accelerated as well.
“Hmm.”
American citizenship was something Yoo Jae-won could take or leave. Avoiding mandatory military service was appealing, but future changes in U.S. tax law would impose a heavy burden. On the other hand, gaining access to America’s strategic industries would expand the company’s reach and influence. Most importantly, obtaining citizenship once did not mean keeping it forever. He could relinquish it whenever strategic necessity demanded. For most people, renouncing American citizenship was unthinkable, but for Yoo Jae-won it was merely one option among many. Above all, the first document he had written after regressing had declared that the only nation he would govern, pacify, and bring peace to was the Republic of Korea.
“The only people I know in America are my company colleagues,” he said. “My parents and friends all live in Korea. And you know my position there—I carry the expectations of both the government and the public.”
He was testing the waters.
“Of course. We are well aware. Yet I assure you that America’s expectations are no less than Korea’s. And the scale of ID Technology’s operations in the United States versus Korea is simply incomparable, is it not?”
Feulner had clearly done his homework. He was correct. In Korea, ID Technology’s business volume barely exceeded one billion won. In America, once Microsoft’s compensation arrived, it would easily surpass one hundred billion won.
“That’s true. Having American citizenship would make completing the larger picture I envision much easier.”
“A wise choice.”
“But not right now.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“I need to discuss it with my parents first. You seem to have forgotten I’m still a minor.”
“Ah, of course. You carry yourself so maturely that one forgets your age during conversation. Don’t worry about your parents. We will work to secure citizenship for them as well, not only for you.”
“Thank you for that. Still, that alone isn’t enough. I understand America also offers honorary citizenship?”
There was a way to become an American citizen without renouncing Korean nationality: honorary citizenship. He had discovered it while designing his master plan in his previous life. It granted privileges beyond those of ordinary citizenship while allowing one to retain one’s original nationality.
Feulner laughed heartily. “Of course it exists. But it is granted only to truly exceptional individuals—heads of allied nations such as Churchill.”
He was right. Honorary citizenship was special. It required presidential selection and congressional approval. By 2040, only eight people had ever received it, and only two—Winston Churchill and Raoul Wallenberg—had been honored during their lifetimes. All subsequent recipients received it posthumously.
“I intend to try. If it doesn’t happen before I enter university, I’ll apply for ordinary citizenship then.”
Earning honorary citizenship while alive would require achievements comparable to Churchill’s—an almost impossible standard. Yet Yoo Jae-won already had several major events planned that would bring both honor and tangible benefits to the United States. If even one succeeded, exemption from military service and honorary citizenship would both become realistic possibilities.
“Hmm. I think that may be difficult, but I understand your position. I’m glad you’re at least positive about the idea. Speaking of university, I’m curious—where do you plan to attend? Ah, and before that, did you complete Korea’s regular education curriculum?”
Another sharp question. Even his parents had never asked this. Yet it was currently the largest dilemma occupying Yoo Jae-won’s thoughts. He would graduate elementary school in February and enter middle school in March.
“Well…”
The fastest route would be to take the qualification exam, obtain a high-school diploma, enter an American high school, and accelerate through grade-skipping to reach an elite American university—potentially becoming a college student at fifteen or sixteen. The problem was that such acceleration would keep widening the age gap with those around him. Even now, the age difference with the adults he worked with created awkward situations; if that gap persisted, only he would suffer. Conversely, following the standard path meant wasting six years in middle and high school. He already knew everything taught there from his previous life, so the only real gain would be building friendships. Yet the time lost would be enormous.
Therefore, the route he was considering was to attend middle school normally, then pass the high-school qualification exam before entering tenth grade and proceed directly to an American university. That way he would enter college at seventeen or eighteen—close enough in age to ordinary freshmen that the difference would not be glaring, and his appearance would have matured enough to avoid standing out.
Edwin Feulner nodded after hearing the plan.
“America’s gifted-education system is highly structured. Of course, you are already complete, so you need not follow it. University, however, will be different. You will be able to conduct research alongside distinguished professors at top institutions. What they lack is funding; what you lack is research and development capacity. You can help each other.”
The naked desire to recruit talent was plain.
“Understood. Thank you for your advice today. The coffee was excellent as well. I’ll send the consultation fee—along with the donation—once Microsoft’s compensation arrives. We won quite decisively, so you can look forward to it.”
Feulner’s face lit up. “I didn’t create this meeting for that purpose, but since you say so, I’ll be waiting with anticipation.”
Yoo Jae-won and his companions received the same warm send-off on their way out as they had on arrival.
“Whatever decision you make, we will do our utmost for you and the company. Please don’t worry and proceed as you wish.”
On the way back to the flagship store, Remington spoke to the still-distracted Yoo Jae-won.
“Ah, I wasn’t lost in thought because of that. Don’t worry.”
Yoo Jae-won waved both hands, returning to the present. He meant it. Having already designed the master plan and regressed, he had no time to agonize over a single nationality. The brief distraction had come from calculating the cheapest way to obtain honorary citizenship. There were three broad categories: lethal intelligence, cutting-edge technology, and groundbreaking new drugs. In the master plan, he had intended to deliver all three bundles and become an American hero. Now, however, America was already desperate to have him. In other words, there was no need to open all three bundles. One would suffice. He had simply been briefly weighing which one to choose.
January 4th. The original plan had been to enjoy shopping and leisure on the third before departing in the evening, but the meeting with the Heritage Foundation chairman had pushed the schedule back a day. Racing single-mindedly toward success had never been Yoo Jae-won’s style. In this second life he had worked so hard to obtain, he intended to do everything he wanted and enjoy everything he could. So he paid a small change fee, postponed the flight by one day, and properly toured New York. He took photos in front of the bull statue, dined at Michelin-starred restaurants, and, as night fell, stood atop the World Trade Center to look out over the entire city and steel his resolve. Right now he owned no buildings in New York—only a single leased store—but one day he would devour the entire financial capital of the world. After spending the day at leisure, he departed on the morning of the fourth and arrived in Korea after a half-day flight.
Waiting at the airport was not his parents but Chief of Staff Choi Kang-wook. While Yoo Jae-won had been away, several projects had advanced, and a brief stop at the Seoul office was necessary to receive reports before heading down to the countryside. In the car, Yoo Jae-won listened only briefly. In his absence, quite a few substantial matters had occurred. The acquisition of KETEL was not even among the largest of them.