The Unabomber's Shadow and Sony's Prototype
Technopia 1993. “I’ll try contacting them one more time and then decide.” That was the conclusion he had reached after much deliberation. It showed an enormous amount of patience. Though Yoo Jae-won was only five years into his regression, his experience from the twenty-first century was twelve times greater. Naturally, his fixed sense of time remained anchored in the mid-twenty-first century. Comparing that perception to the year 1993 was like contrasting a hyperloop with a pigeon carrier—no exaggeration. Therefore, reaching out once more was no different from exercising tremendous restraint.
Yoo Jae-won picked up the phone and quickly dialed the Unabomber Task Force number. As the party directly involved, he felt not the slightest hesitation in pressing the buttons.
“Yes, this is Skinner.” It was even the direct line on Team Leader Skinner’s desk. The call lasted less than three minutes. Skinner and Yoo Jae-won simply did not get along well. Even when Yoo Jae-won tried to engage in friendly conversation, Skinner’s frozen demeanor remained unchanged. Still, the call was neither lacking in content nor failed to convey its core message. He asked why the analysis of the parcel bomb had been so delayed and whether the FBI intended to accept his proposal for a digital analysis of the Unabomber. He fired the questions straight, without any polite detours.
“There are far more practical obstacles than Chairman Yoo imagines.” Skinner’s reply was equally straightforward. The practical obstacles were exactly what Yoo Jae-won had anticipated. With the Unabomber having gone silent for six years, the task force had been drastically reduced in size. Although the team was being reassembled because of the package sent to Yoo Jae-won, the process was moving slowly for realistic reasons. He also admitted frankly that coordinating differing opinions among the members was not easy. Six years ago they had moved as one with enthusiasm, but now the newly joined members brought vastly different experiences and perspectives. Even a cold-blooded man like Skinner found it difficult to unify those internal disagreements, which spoke volumes.
There were also administrative issues. Sharing Unabomber information with a civilian like Yoo Jae-won required several procedures.
“We are considering Chairman Yoo’s proposal positively. Technology has continued to advance over the past six years, and computer technology in particular has progressed the fastest. It is possible we may find clues that human eyes missed.” At least Team Leader Skinner viewed the proposal favorably. That was fortunate. The task force leader’s authority was absolute, so once internal matters were settled, he would contact Yoo Jae-won immediately.
“What concerns me is that the Unabomber, now resuming activity, will not stop with the single parcel bomb sent to me. I was lucky enough to notice it before opening it, but others may not be so fortunate.”
“I understand. We will reach a conclusion as quickly as possible.” There was no point in repeating himself to someone who already knew everything, so Yoo Jae-won simply said he understood and ended the call. The entire conversation had taken exactly three minutes.
“Ugh, how frustrating.” Yoo Jae-won, who would have countless dealings with the government in the future, felt deeply uneasy. Even Skinner, who was relatively reasonable, was this difficult. Dealing with people who refused to listen at all would be far worse.
“I should just focus on my own work.” Yoo Jae-won sat down at his computer, loosened his fingers, and immediately began programming. This was not a continuation of previous work but an entirely new program built from scratch—a search engine capable of extracting desired data from big data. It would not merely perform keyword searches; it would analyze input materials from multiple angles, extract characteristics, and retrieve similar documents based on those features. It was an over-technology that incorporated machine learning techniques during the analysis process. While it required massive computing power, the data center he had already built eliminated that concern. The core algorithm existed fully formed in Yoo Jae-won’s mind, so his typing speed never faltered. He estimated that a usable big data search engine could be completed in at least three days.
Only one worry remained: that Team Leader Skinner’s call would not arrive too late.
The next day. The world was abuzz with the Unabomber’s reappearance, yet most people’s daily lives remained unchanged from the day before. Even Yoo Jae-won treated the ripple caused by the Unabomber as lasting only a single day. He immediately returned to the front lines of management and handled business with renewed vigor. Of course, he did not physically go to ID Technology headquarters; as usual, he conducted remote meetings using ID Talk’s video conferencing feature.
“We will also introduce X-ray inspection machines used at airport security checkpoints.” Yoo Jae-won exercised his authority to add the X-ray machines. X-rays were typically used to photograph and reveal what was invisible inside objects. While hospitals used them effectively, the X-ray inspection machines allowed real-time visual confirmation. They were useful for detecting whether guns, knives, or drugs were being smuggled through airports. Yoo Jae-won intended to deploy these machines to inspect all letters and parcels entering the ID Group. To that end, he ordered more than ten X-ray inspection units. He judged that spending money to fundamentally block threats was far more profitable than allowing people to be killed or injured.
“A wise decision.”
“No objections.” Remington and the other executives raised no objections. With a parcel bomb already sent to Yoo Jae-won, no one could claim the expenditure was wasteful.
“What is the next agenda item?”
“Yes, I have prepared it.” The person who stepped forward in response to Yoo Jae-won’s question was Chief of Staff Choi Kang-wook, who had returned to Korea. Yoo Jae-won focused more intently on the monitor. When Choi Kang-wook reported, it meant something had happened in Korea.
“It is a confidential message from the elder.” Few people within the ID Group addressed anyone as “elder.” It referred to Yoo Jae-won’s parents, a few of his teachers, and close acquaintances. Among those with the surname Jeon, there was only one such elder: former Prime Minister Jeon Myeong-heon. Calling him “Prime Minister” still felt awkward. Yoo Jae-won had always addressed him as “Chairman,” “Candidate,” or “Grandfather.” The first time he had used “Prime Minister” was just a few days earlier, when Jeon Myeong-heon called during the Unabomber incident. Even Jeon Myeong-heon had found the title strange and asked to be addressed as usual.
During that call, Jeon Myeong-heon had not said much. He merely lamented that, aside from posturing, there was nothing for a prime minister to do. The 1987 Constitution had originally created the prime minister system with a parliamentary cabinet system in mind. According to the Constitution, the prime minister’s recommendation was required for appointing ministers. If the prime minister were elected by the National Assembly and a few constitutional articles were amended, the country would immediately become a parliamentary system. Currently, however, the president appointed the prime minister and controlled the ministers, leaving the prime minister with extremely little independent work. Consequently, successive prime ministers of the Republic of Korea had served as presidential aides and acted as shields, taking the first wave of criticism whenever problems arose.
At least this time, thanks to Yoo Jae-won’s efforts, Jeon Myeong-heon had become prime minister through a political deal with President Kim Young-sam. He had secured the right to be a “responsible prime minister” with actual authority and responsibility, yet because the president was performing so well, Jeon Myeong-heon had little room to maneuver. Yoo Jae-won had therefore advised the grumbling Jeon Myeong-heon to focus on inter-Korean business for the time being. If he could successfully hold a summit before Kim Il-sung died, that would be the best possible outcome achievable with the prime minister title. Even if a summit proved impossible, laying the groundwork for advancing into North Korea through inter-Korean economic cooperation projects would not be bad either.
In any case, there had been no confidential message to deliver during that earlier call. Moreover, it was difficult to guess what kind of matter would require the prime minister to send a secret message. Choi Kang-wook continued.
“You are already aware that subscriptions for ID Investment’s investment products are not merely hot but explosive.” Yoo Jae-won nodded at the obvious statement. Anyone who considered themselves an investor and remained unmoved after seeing ID Investment’s brilliant track record simply lacked investment sense. Such people would be better off sticking to bonds or fixed deposits. ID Investment’s performance was legendary enough to justify that claim. Naturally, such legendary results acted as the most powerful pheromone for attracting investors. Although investor recruitment had begun several months earlier, the enthusiasm showed no signs of cooling and continued to burn brightly. The investment capital gathered through this fervor had already surpassed hundreds of billions and was still climbing into the trillions. While private equity funds worth tens of trillions existed globally, achieving such rapid growth in a short period within Korea, where the investment banking business had only just begun, was clearly unprecedented.
“So the story is that they plan to impose some regulations because of this heat, and Grandfather learned about it first and secretly informed us?”
“Exactly.” Choi Kang-wook continued his explanation. “First, it appears an upper limit on fundraising will be established. The elder said he would try to raise it as high as possible, but exceeding three trillion won seems difficult.”
“An upper limit? Investment is a matter of individual will. Are you saying they intend to artificially restrict it?” Remington asked in surprise. Such a thing would be impossible in the United States, the land of freedom and capitalism. Responsibility for investment rested entirely with the individual. Investment failures were the individual’s burden, and therefore investment gains belonged to the individual as well. Yet an upper limit? Yoo Jae-won felt similarly to Remington. However, in Korea, where government-controlled finance still thrived, such measures were entirely possible.
“Next, under the pretext of increasing transparency in the operation of investment products, several measures are being discussed. It is likely they will mandate real-time disclosure of investment results and require notifications about how investment funds are being managed. This is also problematic. Disclosing investment results was something that could be done anytime. It was the most important indicator for investors deciding whether to withdraw or increase their investments. However, disclosing how investment funds are managed was tantamount to demanding that ID Investment reveal its know-how.”
“The elder believes these measures are being driven by President Kim’s influence. I also suspect lingering resentment from the previous presidential election.” Yoo Jae-won agreed with Choi Kang-wook’s assessment. Without Yoo Jae-won, President Kim Young-sam would have become president with ease. Yet the emergence of the variable named Yoo Jae-won had forced Kim Young-sam to experience another nerve-wracking race similar to the 1987 election. While Yoo Jae-won had scientifically predicted Kim Young-sam’s victory through polls, both Kim Young-sam himself and the Democratic Liberal Party had gone into emergency mode over Jeon Myeong-heon’s terrifying pursuit. This had ultimately forced them to agree to a deal sharing significant portions of National Assembly operations and the next administration with the Tongil National Party and Jeon Myeong-heon. Unable to vent this dissatisfaction on their coalition partner, the Tongil National Party, they had apparently decided to target Yoo Jae-won instead.
“Understood. If those above decide to proceed, we have no choice but to follow.” Yoo Jae-won replied simply. There was no way around it in Korea, where government-controlled finance was the norm. It would be better to expand operations in the United States instead. The unfortunate ones were the investors who would suffer collateral damage. As the IT bubble formed in America, global financial assets would expand explosively. Capital would grow as if the universe itself were experiencing a Big Bang. If one could even place a spoon on the IT Big Bang, changing the material of that spoon would be trivial. On the other hand, leaving money in the bank out of fear of investment would yield only a small amount of interest income. Considering inflation, it would be no different from watching one’s money shrink.
Yoo Jae-won had extended this consideration out of a desire for Korean people to obtain as much fruit as possible from that capital Big Bang. If President Kim responded this way, he had no intention of forcing the matter to continue. Naturally, he also had no intention of simply enduring the president’s attacks. Yoo Jae-won possessed many means at his disposal. Compared to the United States, Korea was a country with far too weak fundamentals. Therefore, taking a few measures would immediately convey his displeasure to President Kim. One such measure was taxation—specifically, corporate tax. The corporate tax ID Group paid to Korea every year had long since entered the trillions. In particular, if ID Investment settled its accounts, the corporate tax paid to the National Tax Service would explode. The amount was enormous enough to set a new Korean record in a single stroke, and ID Group had paid it without any adjustments. That would no longer be the case. This was not about tax evasion, but the willingness to actively pay taxes had vanished in an instant. The method was not difficult either. In the case of financial investments, simply continuing to reinvest could significantly reduce operating profits, which formed the basis for calculating corporate tax.
“Oh, by the way, preparations for the real-name financial system are proceeding well, correct?” The real-name financial system was something President Kim was preparing to implement with only his closest aides, so it was natural that it had not appeared in Jeon Myeong-heon’s tip. Perhaps the real-name financial system was President Kim’s actual weapon aimed at Yoo Jae-won. After all, an investment bank would never be granted an exception to the real-name financial system. Moreover, since it would be executed by presidential emergency order, President Kim likely believed it would be easy to obstruct ID Investment.
“Of course. It would be unfortunate if he thought otherwise.” Just as Choi Kang-wook answered confidently, preparations for the real-name financial system had already been made well in advance.
The next day. There was still no contact from the FBI. Instead, a large package arrived addressed to Yoo Jae-won. Like the saying about being startled by a cauldron lid after being frightened by a snake, the company’s notification that a package had arrived made him flinch for a moment. However, it was not a suspicious package. The sender and his affiliation were all too clear. It was Ken Kutaragi, who led Sony’s PlayStation project. Inside the package were one PlayStation prototype, one developer PlayStation, one CD containing a demo disc, and finally a simple user manual along with a letter.
“It’s quite large.” The developer PlayStation boasted a size similar to a mid-tower PC. The built-in program was a development tool for the PlayStation, and it appeared they had worked hard to create an environment as similar to a computer as possible. However, there were not many functions that actually worked properly. It merely showed a blueprint of what kind of features would eventually exist. The prototype PlayStation was similarly sized. Both were equipped with a 32-bit RISC processor and a 3D acceleration chip, dramatically increasing 3D processing capability. Yet Yoo Jae-won was not satisfied. The memory capacity, originally a weakness of the PlayStation, remained at only 2MB, and the video memory was a mere 1MB. Compared to PCs where SVGA had already become the standard, the specifications were inferior in many ways. Most critically, the joypad lacked force feedback functionality and analog sticks. It seemed they were making every effort to reduce costs. Reading Ken Kutaragi’s letter confirmed that it was filled with repeated discussions about budget. Sony’s executives wanted to lower the PlayStation’s production cost as much as possible, while Ken Kutaragi wanted to incorporate as many emerging new technologies as possible. The current prototype sent to Yoo Jae-won was the result of that compromise, only partially reflected.
This was clearly special treatment from SCE. After all, they did not send prototypes to ordinary partner companies because of the risk of technology leakage. As expected, there was no such thing as a free lunch. Reading the neatly stacked letter revealed one earnest request from Ken Kutaragi. Ken Kutaragi’s goal was the Coppermine process.
“I knew it would come to this.” Among those who handled semiconductors, there was no one who did not pay attention to the Coppermine process. The only exception was Ilseong Electronics. According to separate inquiries, Ilseong Electronics also wanted to adopt the Coppermine process. However, because Chairman Choi Hyun-hee harbored ill feelings toward Yoo Jae-won—an issue well known to Ilseong’s executives—they were hesitating despite understanding where the company’s interests lay. The reason Ken Kutaragi had sent such a large package this time was his desire to incorporate the Coppermine process into the CPU, memory, and 3D acceleration chip to improve performance. He had also cautiously inquired about how to introduce it at a lower cost, even if only by a single won. Yoo Jae-won’s answer was simple.
“Hmm, this is something that can be resolved easily.” If he wanted to use HPC-grade components manufactured with the Coppermine process, there was a simpler method than obtaining a license and manufacturing them directly. He could go through foundry companies such as TSMC or UMC. These companies had already licensed the Coppermine process long ago. Commissioning production from them would solve the problem immediately. If large orders in the millions were placed, competition between foundry companies could be induced, making the cost significantly lower. ID Technology would simply receive royalties withheld at source, just as it received value-added tax regardless of which factory produced its products. Yoo Jae-won drafted a document containing this content and emailed it to General Counsel Alan Schmidt. After receiving the email, Alan conducted a legal review and created a formal, high-quality official document, which he then faxed to Ken Kutaragi at SCE Japan.
With that, Yoo Jae-won concluded his official work and turned on the prototype PlayStation he had set aside, beginning to test it. Although it was technically a very simple device, the emotion of touching the prototype of a historical icon kept him completely absorbed for the entire day. However, the shelf life of curiosity and deep emotion lasted only a single day. The next day, the response from Team Leader Skinner that Yoo Jae-won had been waiting for finally arrived.