The Information Superhighway
Command & Conquer, April 5, 1992. While South Korea was busy planting trees for Arbor Day, Yoo Jae-won found himself in a New York hotel suite meeting Clinton. It was not one of the city's famous A-list hotels, yet when the location was specified as a suite, Yoo Jae-won had imagined something discreet. The reality proved far from secretive.
"Things will be a bit chaotic because of the campaign," Clinton's aide had said while fetching him from the lobby. Yoo Jae-won had accepted the explanation, but once he reached the suite, the scene resembled a bustling marketplace. Campaign staffers swarmed around Clinton, shouting strategies, routes, and pledges for the New York primary. The living room where Yoo Jae-won and Clinton sat was a revolving door of people.
"My apologies. Thieves broke into our campaign office, so we had to move in a hurry. No better space was available, hence this temporary mess."
Clinton delivered the line about the break-in with his usual easy charm, as if it were nothing. Thieves? No such incident existed in Yoo Jae-won's memories of his previous life. And a break-in was no small matter. Clinton was the leading Democratic presidential candidate. The theft could easily be a cover for stealing sensitive documents or planting listening devices. Clinton had clearly reached the same conclusion, which explained his bold decision to relocate the office to a hotel.
"It's quite all right. A busy office is only natural for a leading candidate. Thank you for the invitation."
Yoo Jae-won offered the polite reply. Coffee arrived shortly after, and light conversation began. It circled without landing. Yoo Jae-won tried steering toward the main topic, but Clinton's polished eloquence kept redirecting the flow.
Then the suite door opened again, and a hearty voice boomed.
"Look at that! Both of you are already here. Sorry I'm late. I should have accounted for traffic."
Yoo Jae-won recognized the voice immediately. It was Al Gore, Clinton's running mate. Gore strode into the living room, embraced Clinton first, then pulled Yoo Jae-won into a hug as well, displaying clear warmth. Yoo Jae-won had been taught that men hugging in America could invite misunderstanding, but Gore clearly did not share that concern.
Clinton had evidently been waiting for Gore. Once Gore took a seat, the real discussion began. It would have been ideal if the true power behind the scenes, Hillary Clinton, had been present, but she was arriving in New York a day late due to personal matters.
"The potential of IT truly is limitless. Hearing it directly from Silicon Valley's rising star, just as you said, makes it much clearer."
Clinton proved an excellent listener. His lively reactions made the conversation flow comfortably. Naturally, the topic was the IT industry. Clinton asked; Yoo Jae-won answered. Most questions revisited the discussion from Al Gore's earlier visit to Silicon Valley—the potential and applications of information and communications technology.
"See? You really do need to hear it firsthand to get a proper sense of it."
Al Gore appeared to be the one who had first planted the seed of the information superhighway in Clinton's mind. He repeatedly sought Clinton's confirmation that his own words had been correct—not merely out of satisfaction, but because he intended to push for expanded IT investment policies once Clinton won the presidency.
"All right, all right. I'll make sure the information superhighway gets built. But if it doesn't deliver, it's on you."
"Of course it will deliver. In fact, we're already falling behind. Damn Republicans!"
Al Gore's voice rose with excitement. Yoo Jae-won nodded in agreement; the sentiment resonated with him. Then the conversation turned toward him.
"Thanks to the foresight of Chairman Yoo Jae-won here, Korea is already laying down its own information superhighway. Ask him directly about the results."
At Al Gore's words, Clinton turned back to Yoo Jae-won. The latter felt a flicker of discomfort. He needed to say something, yet Korea had not yet produced tangible results from the information superhighway. An IT revolution required more than fiber-optic networks; computer penetration rates mattered too. Korea was still a country where 286 computers dominated, and the number of machines connected online was even smaller. The infrastructure was ready. Once the economy grew and households could afford computers, explosive growth would follow. But that moment had not arrived. The expensive mainframe brought in to serve as the Nextcom server had yet to reach full capacity because Korean users numbered far below even 500,000, let alone a million.
"Well, people can now quickly find the information they want, and communication has become far more convenient, greatly improving work efficiency. Previously only voice calls were possible, but now we can exchange messages, documents, and image files directly."
Yoo Jae-won focused on changes in daily life rather than economic impact. He could not lie to a U.S. presidential candidate.
"In the future, we'll even be able to transmit high-definition video. News, footage, even short clips uploaded by individuals will be shared. The faster and wider information flows, the faster society advances and the economy grows."
Both men nodded. Yoo Jae-won drove the point home.
"Whether it's the IT revolution or anything else, the core purpose is a better life. The problem is the economy, and fools don't understand that."
He watched Clinton's expression carefully. The line contained the decisive phrase that had once propelled Clinton to the presidency. He wondered if it had landed.
"Hmm! The problem is the economy! Fools don't understand that."
Yoo Jae-won exhaled quietly in relief. "It's the economy, stupid!" had once captured the hearts of American voters in a single stroke. George Bush had won the Gulf War, yet he was a failure on the economy. The man who squandered the glorious golden age of the 1980s tried to engineer a soft landing with massive tax cuts. The treasury dwindled while corporate investment remained sluggish. The money saved in taxes simply vanished somewhere. Unemployment rose sharply, and households began going bankrupt. At that critical juncture, Clinton seized the economy as his issue and chose IT as the solution. Thanks to the IT boom, the American economy soared again from the mid-1990s. Despite the scandal that led to hearings in the White House, Clinton consistently ranked high on lists of presidents Americans liked best—largely because of those economic achievements.
"Oh! That's excellent!"
Even Al Gore, listening from the side, exclaimed in surprise. The reaction exceeded expectations, and Yoo Jae-won felt satisfied. He had successfully made his presence felt to Clinton.
"To be honest, I had some doubts about you."
Now that they had grown closer, Clinton spoke more candidly. The doubt, it turned out, was whether the Korean government was using Yoo Jae-won as a slush-fund channel. When Yoo Jae-won asked for clarification, Clinton mentioned the oil futures trades. He had suspected Yoo Jae-won was President Roh's slush-fund operator. Given Yoo Jae-won's age, the achievements were hard to accept at face value, so the suspicion was understandable. Still, being labeled President Roh's slush-fund man was excessive. Clinton's information had been limited, and the frequent visits to Cheong Wa Dae and meetings with President Roh had apparently led him to that conclusion.
"That's a bit much. I met him for business, not as some subordinate."
Yoo Jae-won bristled. Clinton immediately smiled and apologized. Though Yoo Jae-won had deliberately shown irritation, Clinton's quick apology improved the atmosphere further. Their conversation stretched well beyond the scheduled hour, lasting nearly two.
"That was a productive meeting."
Even as Yoo Jae-won prepared to leave, Clinton expressed reluctance to end the discussion. During their talk, Yoo Jae-won had mentioned several policies that aligned with Clinton's preferences. The more they spoke, the more Clinton felt he was gaining something valuable, so parting felt difficult.
"I enjoyed it as well. Especially seeing the real Clinton up close. Thanks to you, my forecasts for the future have become much clearer."
"Oh? In that case, would you mind sharing what a young genius sees ahead?"
"There's no harm in saying it. You'll secure the Democratic nomination without issue. There will be some crises, but you'll definitely enter the White House."
Clinton's face brightened at the mention of becoming president—the brightest expression Yoo Jae-won had seen during their two-hour conversation. Yet the follow-up about "some crises" quickly returned his expression to normal.
"Crises?"
"The issue you already know well. Scandals."
"Ah, I've already told the press—those are just rumors."
"Even if they're rumors, they're still your weakest point. Your opponents will target them relentlessly. You'll need far more solid preparations once the general election begins."
"Understood. Of course I will."
Clinton grew serious. The heavy topic ended there. When the conversation turned to donations, Clinton's expression recovered instantly. Al Gore reacted the same way. Even as the leading Democratic candidate, Clinton had not yet been nominated, and the general election outcome remained uncertain. Fundraising was still insufficient, while campaign travel across the country demanded enormous spending. They had only booked the hotel suite for a single day because of the cost.
Thanks to ID Technology's massive success and the oil futures investments, Yoo Jae-won was recognized as a major wealthy figure even in the United States. Clinton immediately wrote the donation account number on his own business card and handed it over, his face filled with anticipation about how much would be deposited—though he could not ask outright, leaving him looking slightly frustrated. ID Group had already donated one million dollars to the Democrats before the meeting, so after building rapport, Clinton expected the next deposit to be larger.
"See you next time."
Yoo Jae-won waved to the two men who escorted him to the lobby, then returned to his lodging with a light heart. On the way, he used the car phone to instruct Ellen, who was on standby, to make the transfer.
— Ten million dollars have been deposited.
The original plan had been eight million. Yoo Jae-won added two million more to reach ten. On the Democratic donor list, Ellen's eight million would have been the largest, but compared to the Republicans it was not particularly standout. The ruling party enjoyed a premium, and Republican supporters were far more enthusiastic and wealthier, resulting in much larger total donations. Adding a little more would not make him stand out, so he settled on ten million.
Clinton and Al Gore were naturally astonished when they confirmed the deposit. They had never received such a large lump sum in their donation account before. Even Hillary Clinton, upon hearing the news later, expressed regret at having missed the meeting. Yoo Jae-won's name was now firmly etched in their minds. They later contacted him to arrange another meeting during the California campaign. It had been a thoroughly successful encounter.
Time passed, and May arrived. Clinton did not achieve the same decisive finish as before. The scandal Yoo Jae-won had warned about broke, preventing him from reaching 50 percent approval. Still, securing over 40 percent made it clear the tide had turned in his favor.
In Korea, preparations for the presidential election were also in full swing. The Democratic Liberal Party, which had been mired in internal strife only the previous month, quickly resolved its issues by deciding to hold a primary to select its presidential candidate. Until now, party leaders had typically become candidates while rank-and-file members and delegates served as mere formalities. The Democratic Liberal Party's decision to hold the country's first primary created a fresh breeze. The media made a fuss, but in truth Kim Young-sam remained the strongest candidate and the likely next president, so the primary merely satisfied procedural democracy. Nevertheless, it was undeniably a step forward. Because the Democratic Liberal Party had moved first, both the Democratic Party and the Tongil National Party also decided to hold primaries. Once such progress was made, retreat was impossible. From now on, primaries would become the norm for selecting presidential candidates. As a bonus, several candidates who refused to accept the results would split off and form new parties, adding further drama.
As expected, Assemblyman Jeon Myeong-heon declared his presidential bid. His original reason for entering politics had been the presidency, so whether it ended in victory or defeat, charging straight ahead was his way. While both Korea and the United States were busy preparing for their elections, Yoo Jae-won was equally occupied balancing personal matters and business. The first decision finalized was his enrollment at Stanford. American universities required students to confirm their choice by mid-May, and Yoo Jae-won selected Stanford. Even after seeing that he had purchased a house right in front of the campus, Stanford had waited anxiously until his final choice, then celebrated and moved to the next steps. Because Yoo Jae-won was a special admit, the university had little left to handle. For ordinary international admits, they assisted with visas, housing, and tuition adjustments based on parental income. Yoo Jae-won already had his visa and housing secured, and finances were not an issue. All that remained was to attend classes once the fall semester began.
Yoo Jae-won prided himself on being the most thoroughly prepared incoming student the school had ever seen—or would ever see again. Still, he could not guarantee that his college life would proceed as smoothly as that of other students. He had already experienced everything in his previous life, and if company matters grew busy, he would likely skip classes frequently. Therefore, he planned to negotiate with professors: if he solved extremely difficult problems, he would receive credit regardless of attendance. After all, if even the professors could not solve a problem, attendance and exams became meaningless.
With school matters settled, Yoo Jae-won began gathering supplies. For that purpose, he headed to Silicon Valley. Normally one would visit a stationery store for school supplies, but the items Yoo Jae-won needed were not sold there. Lightning Bolt. The name sounded like a skill from an RPG. In reality, it was the name of the Silicon Valley company he visited that day. Despite the grand name, the office was so small that a single pickup truck would fill it completely. Thanks to that, Yoo Jae-won was able to acquire the company for a mere 300,000 dollars. Of course, for someone who routinely dealt in hundreds of millions, the price seemed cheap, but a proper valuation required assessing the company's actual worth. Buying a one-dollar company for 300,000 dollars would have been worse than throwing money in the trash. Whether 300,000 dollars was a reasonable investment or reckless spending remained unclear for now. Lightning Bolt was a startup that had only just begun, so results would have to be observed over time. Yoo Jae-won remained optimistic. After all, Lightning Bolt's product was the electric bicycle.
"Is this it?"
When he arrived at Lightning Bolt's combined office and workshop, a bicycle awaited him. It featured a sleek, streamlined frame that departed from the traditional diamond shape, looking as though it had dropped straight from the future. That was only natural. When Yoo Jae-won acquired Lightning Bolt, he had not only provided funding but also supplied the design concept. Combined with the developers' electric bicycle technology, the cutting-edge model now stood before him.
"Yes, sir!"
A mustachioed man in his mid-thirties answered immediately. It was Michael Bolt, Lightning Bolt's founder.
"We've adopted a carbon frame to drastically reduce weight. Using the lithium battery you sent, the range on a single charge exceeds fifty miles."
"Fifty miles?"
Accustomed to the metric system, Yoo Jae-won could not easily visualize the distance.
"80.46 kilometers!"
Michael Bolt, quick at mental arithmetic, immediately converted it.
"We've also adopted a swappable battery design, so you can instantly replace it with a spare. In high gear, it reaches thirty miles per hour—ah, fifty kilometers per hour!"
His voice brimmed with pride as he continued describing the prototype. A former GM electric motor engineer who had left to start an electric bicycle business, he was highly skilled. The frame had been outsourced to another startup specializing in carbon fiber, while Michael Bolt handled the motor and battery. A range of over eighty kilometers on a single charge. Yoo Jae-won was confident that no electric bicycle in 1992 boasted better specifications.
This would allow him to charge once in the morning and ride around the campus all day without inconvenience.
"Shall I give it a try?"
"Yes! No problem! It's already fully charged."
Michael Bolt immediately handed over the prototype's handlebars. Just as Yoo Jae-won prepared to ride with excitement, someone stopped him.
"Chairman, you can't."
It was his bodyguard, Greg Wyler. Since the prototype's stability had not been proven, Greg offered to test it himself. Yoo Jae-won frowned, but Greg did not budge. The concern was valid, so Yoo Jae-won reluctantly surrendered the handlebars. Greg Wyler received instructions from President Bolt on operating the electric bicycle and began circling the parking lot in front of the office. Even with his massive frame exceeding one hundred kilograms, the acceleration remained smooth.
Ding-dong!
While watching Greg ride, Yoo Jae-won heard a familiar telephone ring. It came from the car phone in his parked vehicle at the edge of the lot.
"Hello?"
He hurried over and answered. A welcome voice came through.
— This is Vincent Greenhill from ID Investment. Is the chairman available?
"Yes, it's me."
— Ah! You answered directly. Good. I'm calling about the Nikkei investment. We just hit the target return rate.
"What? Already?"
Yoo Jae-won was startled by Vincent Greenhill's report. Target achieved? According to the plan, that news should have arrived in July. Yet the goal had been reached two months ahead of schedule.