The Copper Revolution
Lisa Su's presentation was a success. It was nothing like Yoo Jae-won's style. Where his approach had been lighthearted, witty, and filled with live demonstrations that turned the event into a spectacle, hers was the opposite—packed with precise data and photographic evidence so rigorous it could have been lifted straight from a research paper. The content might have been challenging for casual visitors who had come to the HPC Expo on a whim, but for the VIPs on Yoo Jae-won's curated list and industry professionals, the materials made the Coppermine process instantly comprehensible. As a result, Yoo Jae-won could see several people in the VIP section shifting in their seats with excitement. The most animated reactions came from executives at companies that produced Intel-compatible CPUs—AMD's Jerry Sanders and the leadership team from Cyrix. Naturally, Intel, the undisputed heavyweight of the CPU industry, had also sent a representative. Their reaction was similar, though the attendee was only a development lead rather than the president or a senior executive. Even so, a lower rank did not mean an inability to make strategic judgments. Every one of them could foresee the enormous ripple effects once the Coppermine process was applied to CPUs. The performance gap between companies that adopted it and those that did not would be staggering, and market share would be completely overturned. It was a technology so powerful that even Intel, currently sitting at the top, would inevitably fall behind.
"Do you see it? The operating speed of future electronic memory chips once the Coppermine process is applied?" Lisa Su drove the point home for the industry insiders. The answer was obvious just from the dramatic performance gains of the HPC Class-certified memory displayed on the screen. The memory standard used in current Pentium-class computers was 72-pin memory. Its bus width was 32 bits, and its operating speed was 80 nanoseconds. Measured in nanoseconds, it sounded impressively fast, but converting it to the more familiar hertz unit made heads shake. Eighty nanoseconds translated to a meager 12.5 MHz. When those same 72-pin memory chips received HPC certification through the Coppermine process, something remarkable happened. Their base operating speed became 50 MHz, and with overdrive mode—an overclocking feature—it rose to 66 MHz. Yoo Jae-won's assurance that simply introducing the Coppermine process, without any architectural changes, would deliver a leap in performance had proven exactly right.
The development team at Future Electronics' semiconductor division was stunned beyond words. Increasing the density and speed of memory chips had been their long-standing goal. They had worked on it for years with little to show for it. Yet ID Technology, which had only entered the semiconductor business four months earlier, had achieved this level of results—an outcome that defied their common sense. Still, Yoo Jae-won was not satisfied. The potential of the Coppermine process was immense. It would remain unbeatable until the silver process arrived in the early to mid-21st century. When combined with nanoscale process technology, operating speeds could easily reach 5 GHz. Because the same speed boost applied across CPUs, GPUs, and memory chips alike, the performance gains would be extraordinary. Having already experienced this future firsthand, Yoo Jae-won found 66 MHz far from impressive.
"Thank you for your attention." Lisa Su concluded the presentation with her usual cool expression. The audience, which had initially applauded only at Yoo Jae-won's request, now rose to their feet and clapped before he could say a word. The Coppermine process presentation was over, but the event itself was not.
—The next event is the Doom 2 Masters Challenge. It begins in sixty minutes.
Nothing showcased the true performance of HPC hardware to the general public better than gaming. That was why Yoo Jae-won had organized a small tournament using the invited Doom 2 rankers. The stage for the rankers was naturally set up on the main stage. Staff and ID Technology engineers quickly assembled booths for the competitors. For an official event, fully soundproof booths would have been necessary to block eye and ear maps, but that was not required here. The tournament's purpose was not to crown an overall winner but to demonstrate HPC performance, so simple multiplayer functionality was sufficient. Even so, they did not simply place computers on tables. They modeled the setup after 21st-century professional gamer booths to create a convincing stage. Completing it within an hour seemed impossible, yet the all-in-one New Egg 2 PCs made it feasible. Once the desks, chairs, and New Egg 2 units were positioned and power and LAN cables connected, the setup was complete. Thanks to Remington—who had apparently developed perfectionist tendencies—the team had rehearsed the process multiple times in advance. Every New Egg 2 functioned flawlessly, and the dedicated tournament servers positioned behind the stage delivered ping times of 3–5 ms. The rankers took their seats and checked their systems. Most had arrived empty-handed, but a few had brought their own keyboards and mice—players with a strong professional mindset.
'Was his nickname Fatalist?' The name tag around his neck confirmed Yoo Jae-won's guess. It was the player who had competed against him for the global number-one ranking and the title of "Doomguy." Unfortunately, Yoo Jae-won had dropped out of the race early. While others played around the clock, he had lost the time to grind rankings once the Coppermine project began. No player had yet claimed the Doomguy title. Simply reaching rank one was not enough; a player also needed an excellent kill-death ratio and had to surpass the hidden threshold of 10,000 total kills. Still, Fatalist was undeniably the closest to earning it. True to his professional attitude, he had brought his own equipment. Given the prize money on offer, it made sense. Yoo Jae-won had paid the invited rankers appearance fees generous enough to cover their flights with plenty left over. The tournament prizes were separate: $100,000 for first place in the individual event and $300,000 for first place in the team event. Winning once could earn a professional's annual salary. Even second through last place received prize money—less extravagant, but enough for a month's spending money. The variable was that none of them had ever competed in front of thousands of spectators. While that could feel like immense pressure, it was also an opportunity. A strong showing here could secure a massive fanbase. Already skilled players now fueled by perfect motivation, the fire in the rankers' eyes was only natural.
"At this rate, this might end up registered as the first official e-sport, huh?" Thinking about it, this tournament felt like the birth of e-sports. If playing games could sustain a livelihood, that was the definition of being a professional. Right now, however, no one believed games could become sports—even the rankers preparing for the matches probably felt the same. Yet when e-sports eventually emerged and history was written, the HPC Expo would very likely be recorded as the first event. The unfortunate part was that Yoo Jae-won had no time to leisurely watch this historic first e-sports match. While the rankers competed, he had other matters to attend to.
"Mr. Chairman, it's time for you to head to the business lounge." Kim Dae-seok quietly reminded him of the next item on the schedule. Several semiconductor company executives were waiting there for a round of business discussions.
"Understood. Let's go right away." For anyone running a company, profit-generating activities were an inseparable part of the job. ID Group could lead e-sports to its heart's content in the future. But money was required to pursue one's passions, and right now was the time to earn it.
"Hello, everyone!" When Yoo Jae-won entered the business lounge and greeted the room, all eyes turned to him at once. The most enthusiastic response came, as expected, from AMD's Jerry Sanders. While others hesitated between rushing forward or waiting in their seats, Jerry Sanders immediately approached him.
"The presentation was excellent! Truly impressive!" He extended his hand and showered Yoo Jae-won with praise. Other executives quickly followed, crowding around him. Not everyone was so eager—Future Electronics, ATI, and Creative Technologies, already established partners, approached at a more measured pace.
"I remember our meeting on Christmas Eve last year! I knew you'd pull it off if it was you, Chairman Yoo." Jerry Sanders skillfully seized the initiative. Yoo Jae-won remembered that moment clearly—the polite but skeptical reaction when Jerry had doubted the feasibility of his claims. There was no need to point out the other man's earlier doubt on such a good day. Besides, Jerry was a customer willing to pay handsomely for Coppermine technology.
"Is there anyone here who still has doubts about the Coppermine technology?"
"None at all!" Everyone waved their hands dismissively at Yoo Jae-won's question. The business lounge was filled with even more detailed samples and technical specifications than Lisa Su had shown on stage. Multiple New Egg 2 units built with HPC Class components sat alongside ordinary assembled PCs, allowing anyone to experience the performance difference firsthand from their seats.
"Let's be direct. How exactly do you plan to license the Coppermine technology? You're not planning to grant exclusivity, are you?" Jerry Sanders' personality remained as straightforward as ever. It was obvious that future IT market leadership would be determined by who possessed Coppermine technology. Granting exclusive rights to any single company would effectively doom the rest. Of course, if other manufacturers developed their own copper interconnect processes outside ID Technology's patented method, the situation would change—but time was the issue. Yoo Jae-won had completed the technology in four months, yet other companies would need years of research. Furthermore, the Coppermine patents had been filed with every possible blocking patent to prevent similar claims, making it extremely difficult to circumvent ID's intellectual property.
"Of course not." Yoo Jae-won had not developed Coppermine to crush the semiconductor industry. Current semiconductor performance was simply too slow for him to tolerate, so he had brought forward technology from years ahead to solve the problem himself. His goal was to improve semiconductor performance and make high-performance computers widely available to consumers at affordable prices. Only then would the internet-centric world he was most confident in arrive sooner. Allowing one company to monopolize the technology while the others collapsed was something he would actively prevent.
"We plan to offer Coppermine licenses to every company that wants one." Jerry Sanders' expression shifted from pleased to concerned. If the license had been exclusive, he had planned to borrow whatever was necessary to secure it and rise to the top by eliminating competitors like Intel and Cyrix. Yet if Intel obtained exclusivity through superior financial power, that would be a nightmare. "In that case, we'll be spending money while still having to compete, so nothing really changes from the current situation, does it?"
"How can you say nothing changes? When high-performance PCs become widely available at low prices, demand will explode. Right now we're talking hundreds of thousands of units per month, but within a few years, selling millions per month will be routine. And as the internet spreads, corporate server demand will grow as well. Servers rarely use just one CPU per board. The server market will likely become far larger than the retail market."
Yoo Jae-won immediately countered Jerry Sanders' complaint. It would not stop at servers. In the future, artificial intelligence would require enormous computational power. While desktop shipments might decline, the explosion of new demand in AI would dramatically increase overall CPU and GPU shipments. VR technology could not be ignored either. After countless standards battles, once the capsule format was perfected, demand had surged to the point that both AMD and Intel would have to run their production lines nonstop for years just to avoid shortages.
"Oh, is that so? If it's your assurance, Chairman Yoo, I can believe it completely." Once again, Jerry Sanders erupted in enthusiastic praise. The difference this time was that his words carried genuine conviction rather than mere lip service.
"Could I have a moment of your time?" The Intel development lead was the one feeling the heat. His expression had been dazed ever since watching the main stage presentation. The technological leap was so significant that words alone could not convey it. Using copper ions for interconnects would obviously outperform aluminum—they offered better heat resistance and far lower resistance. Yet until Yoo Jae-won had succeeded, no one had solved the challenges of finding the optimal copper ion concentration, drawing interconnects without damaging the semiconductor pattern after lithography, or identifying safe cleaning chemicals after the wiring process. Countless problems existed, and because they were interconnected, solving one often created new complications elsewhere. The Intel lead would never have believed it without seeing the actual wafers and finished semiconductors with his own eyes. That was why he was now pacing anxiously. Coppermine was real. If he could not secure the license right here, Intel would fall behind forever. The problem was his superior's reaction. Instead of rushing over immediately, the man had dismissed the faster speeds as nothing worth getting excited about. It was maddening. Yet the lead himself lacked the authority to purchase the license.
"Don't worry. I'm not asking anyone to sign contracts on the spot." Yoo Jae-won turned to Kim Dae-seok, who opened the prepared 007 briefcase. Inside were documents detailing the Coppermine specifications along with the modification costs required to implement the technology on existing production lines. The most important section came at the end—the pricing formula for adopting the technology. Licensing fees would naturally be usage-based. The cost would be determined by the number of wafers produced using Coppermine and the number of transistors integrated into each product. A flat fee would have been simpler to calculate, and without exclusivity, separate contracts per company could have allowed a single upfront payment. But that contradicted Yoo Jae-won's principle of mass distribution. Unlimited competition was essential in the market; a flat-fee system would simply preserve the status quo, with the leader remaining the leader and everyone else stuck in place. To intensify competition between companies, Yoo Jae-won had carefully designed a usage-based model where licensing costs varied according to production volume and semiconductor complexity. The effect was immediately clear when comparing Intel and AMD. Because Intel integrated far more transistors and consumed more wafers, its licensing fees would be higher. AMD, with fewer transistors and wafers, would pay significantly less, improving its price competitiveness and making it easier to challenge the number-one player. Yet the moment AMD's shipments surpassed Intel's, the licensing costs would reverse, allowing Intel to become the pursuer and continue the competition. This production-volume-based variable pricing would also greatly benefit smaller companies like Creative Technologies. With lower technology usage fees, they could pursue more aggressive marketing, ultimately allowing consumers to enjoy higher-quality audio and video.
Everyone was absorbed in mental simulations as they reviewed the catalogs. Amid the silence, one person moved first.
"Let's sign the contract right now!" It was Jerry Sanders, president of AMD. After reviewing the licensing policy and realizing his company's position was far more advantageous than Intel's, he had immediately decided to proceed. Following his lead, other companies began clamoring to sign as well. The outcome was obvious; wasting time with calculators would only result in losses. Thanks to this, Yoo Jae-won earned a substantial sum in signing fees on the spot. Given the massive scale of the semiconductor business, even the upfront payments alone reached several million dollars and easily exceeded ten million. It was a moment that naturally brought a smile to his face. Yet the smile was not merely from the money earned. Each signed contract meant the Coppermine technology would spread that much faster, and with it, a flood of high-performance products would follow.