Technopia 1993 - The Scream

As soon as Yoo Jae-won clicked the email, a bloodcurdling scream exploded from his computer. A blood-soaked American-style ghost burst onto the monitor.

“Uwaah! You scared the hell out of me!”

Caught completely off guard, Yoo Jae-won shot up from his chair. The shock was so intense that the chair toppled backward with a loud crash.

“Chairman! What’s wrong?”

The noise had been loud enough that Kim Dae-seok, who had been working outside, came running into the study in alarm.

“Huk!”

While Yoo Jae-won’s heart nearly stopped from the fright, Kim Dae-seok merely let out a single “Huk!” at the hideous image on the screen. He walked straight to the computer and pressed the ESC key. The image vanished, and the screaming stopped.

“Are you all right, sir?”

At Kim Dae-seok’s question, Yoo Jae-won nodded. He quickly regained his composure, sat down, and immediately checked the computer’s status. He wanted to make sure no data had been lost or corrupted.

“Whew. Everything’s intact.”

Fortunately, nothing had been deleted or damaged. Looking at it now, the email had clearly contained malicious code designed to startle anyone who opened it without thinking. It simply displayed the disgusting image and did nothing to destroy data or tamper with system settings, which was why the antivirus and firewall had not blocked it.

“Who the hell makes something like this?”

Yoo Jae-won immediately opened the email header to examine the sender information and IP address. As expected, the sender field was anonymized, and the IP traced back to a public library in New York. However, the email had been carbon-copied to a long list of addresses. It was obviously a mass-sent spam email. Spam usually consisted of useless advertisements, but since there was nothing to advertise, the sender had apparently filled it with this prank horror image instead.

Yoo Jae-won then opened the same email in several different email programs to see whether the horror image would autoplay in them as well.

“About fifty-fifty.”

When accessed through a web browser’s email page, it did not autoplay. But when opened inside ID Talk, the disgusting image and scream played once more. The same thing happened with third-party programs that used ID Talk’s library.

Upon closer inspection, ID Talk had a feature that automatically loaded image files attached to emails—a function available only to high-speed internet users. The images were supposed to load only within the email message box. Yet the system was apparently set to autoplay any media file the computer could play by default as long as the file extension was recognized as an image.

“Ugh. I had no idea ID Talk had a vulnerability like this.”

Yoo Jae-won’s face flushed red. Not from fear, but from a mixture of anger and embarrassment at having fallen for such a cheap trick.

The vulnerability in ID Talk could be fixed with a single simple patch. The real problem was that a hacker had discovered it before either Yoo Jae-won or the company’s developers had noticed. At least the attacker had only used it to create a silly prank program meant to scare people.

“There really are a lot of twisted people in this world.”

If the hacker had reported the flaw to the ID Talk homepage first, they could have received a handsome reward. The fact that they had abused it instead was clear proof of their warped mindset. Had the person been truly malicious, they might have tried to extract financial gain, and some users would undoubtedly have fallen victim.

“It looks like the time has come to start guarding against spam and malicious code.”

Now somewhat calmer, Yoo Jae-won decided to view the incident positively. This was the kind of problem that would inevitably appear once the internet became widespread. Being startled now and gaining the chance to prepare in advance was far better than being blindsided later.

He immediately forwarded the malicious email to the ID Talk development team in Redmond. With the world’s best developers gathered there, they would analyze the code and produce a patch for the vulnerability right away.

The only disappointing part was that his usually reliable intuition had been completely wrong this time. The saying that speaking of the tiger makes it appear had always fit Yoo Jae-won perfectly. He had expected the same today. While wondering when the CIA would show some sincerity, an email had arrived at that exact moment. Thinking it contained information about the CIA, he had opened it immediately—only to suffer this ridiculous scare.

“Well, I’ll find out when the time comes.”

Yoo Jae-won set aside his expectations for the CIA. In any case, this personal information issue was a hurdle he and ID Technology had to clear themselves. They were thoroughly prepared; all that remained was to carry out the plan perfectly.

“What’s going on here?”

The next morning, after the malicious code had left his eyes sore, Yoo Jae-won looked at the morning newspapers Kim Dae-seok had clipped for him and asked again. For once, the papers were filled with articles friendly to ID Group. The pieces from Gartner and Symantec in particular were completely unexpected.

Gartner Group was an information technology research and advisory company with close ties to the U.S. government. Their reports were considered essential reading even by federal agencies. Symantec was a traditional security firm founded in the 1980s that had grown by acquiring utilities created by the legendary programmer Peter Norton. Just as Korea had V6, America had Norton Security. The fact that they had published an article verifying the security of the Android operating system was truly surprising. After all, they should have been claiming there were security problems so they could sell more antivirus software.

Still, personal information protection and computer viruses were technically different issues, so the statement was not entirely unreasonable. Starting with these reports, the tone of American network news also began to shift slightly. More voices argued that leaving personal information protection solely to corporate conscience was dangerous and that Congress should step in to enact laws.

“Is this the sincerity Director McMahon was talking about?”

It was possible, yet it felt too modest compared to the confidence with which the man had spoken. Still, since Yoo Jae-won had already decided not to rely on the CIA’s goodwill, he closed the clippings and began his workday.

Normally he would head to the study and sit in front of the computer, but today was different.

“Oh my, your skin is incredible. Not a single pimple.”

“And your physique! With a body like that, anything looks good on you. You exercise every day, don’t you?”

The chatter from both sides left Yoo Jae-won’s head spinning. A stylist who had brought racks of clothes in various styles and a hair-and-makeup expert carrying a three-tiered toolbox the size of a giant tackle box were the ones talking. They were top professionals in the industry, called in to help him look his best for a rare business trip, but their constant chatter was dizzying.

“You seem even taller than when I saw you last time, right?”

At the stylist’s question, Yoo Jae-won silently nodded. After relentless effort on diet and exercise, he had recently reached 178 centimeters. That was ten centimeters taller than in his previous life, so he had every right to feel proud. On top of that, his dedicated workouts had broadened his chest and added respectable muscle to his arms and legs. As a result, both classic suits and high-fashion designer clothes now fit him perfectly.

He had never paid much ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠attention to his skin, yet he had never suffered from breakouts. He had not even experienced the acne that plagued most people his age. His parents and acquaintances sometimes wondered if his second growth spurt was simply late, but that was not the case. Black hairs had begun sprouting on his upper lip and chin, and he occasionally felt surges of youthful vigor. Physically, his body was flawless.

After an hour under the fashion experts’ hands, Yoo Jae-won was completely transformed. The usual look he wore at home made him seem like a dried-fish otaku; now he looked like the sole heir to a colossal conglomerate who had inherited the empire in his late teens.

“I almost want to take a picture.”

The stylist and makeup artist were equally impressed with their own handiwork. No matter how skilled the professionals, some people simply did not photograph well. Yoo Jae-won, however, improved dramatically with just a little effort, making the work genuinely rewarding.

“Feel free to take as many as you like.”

Ever the gracious host, Yoo Jae-won let them snap away. Sure enough, both pulled cameras from their bags. They stood beside him and took several photos. The only shame was that the cameras used film, so they could not check the results on the spot.

“Thank you for your hard work.”

“Not at all. Call us anytime!”

After seeing the experts off, Yoo Jae-won immediately began his business schedule. Today was going to be an extremely busy day.

Coyote City, south of San Jose, San Francisco. The surrounding area was mostly wheat farmland, and a recently opened golf course was famous. The only landmark reminding people that this was near Silicon Valley had been IBM’s lonely research center. Recently, however, Coyote City’s name had shot into prominence. The reason was ID Technology’s data center.

Many people still did not fully understand what a data center was. They usually assumed it was simply a place to store computer data, based on the name. The term had become widely known thanks to the big-data search engine that played a decisive role in capturing the Unabomber. The concepts of cloud systems and intelligent data retrieval had created a huge boom in Silicon Valley, and the trend was still ongoing.

Today, Coyote City was once again buzzing with excitement.

The giant banner clearly announced the theme of the day’s event. Today was the official groundbreaking for the optical cable project that would span the entire American continent. The western starting point was the Coyote City data center, while the eastern starting point was the ID flagship store in Manhattan. In addition to the east-west line connecting Coyote City to Manhattan, there were north-south branch routes: a node connecting Seattle and Los Angeles, another linking Chicago and Houston, and a final one between Boston and Miami. The overall shape resembled a prince lying on his side. From this backbone network, capillary-like internet lines would spread out to cover the entire United States.

The optical cable being installed was exceptionally thick. It was a special order from Dow Corning consisting of hundreds of fiber strands bundled together. The innermost core contained the fiber bundles, which were first wrapped in fiber and aluminum sheathing, then encased again in tough, durable synthetic coating. The current technology allowed transmission of 100 gigabits per second, and if the transmission equipment connecting the cables was upgraded, the specification could handle hundreds of terabits.

Because of this, Henry, president of Nextcomcast, had worried that Yoo Jae-won had ordered an over-specified product. But Yoo Jae-won had deliberately chosen the highest specifications even if it cost more. The reason was simple: everything was cheap right now. 1993 was an era when labor costs, land prices, and product prices were all low. In a few years inflation would arrive and change the very scale of costs. Especially after the IT bubble burst, it would be too late. Starting early was the profitable move.

Therefore, to achieve the greatest effect at the lowest cost, maximizing the cable’s performance was best. Backbone cables were installed once and rarely replaced, so Yoo Jae-won had chosen the highest specification with an eye toward the next hundred years.

He had also arranged for the cable-laying work to proceed simultaneously in multiple directions. Construction starting from the Coyote City data center would head north to Seattle, south to Los Angeles, and east to Manhattan at the same time. The same was true for the ID flagship center in Manhattan.

Originally, Yoo Jae-won had planned to build a data center on the outskirts of New York to serve the eastern region. But that was still in the planning stage, and the servers currently handling the east were located in the Manhattan flagship center. The flagship center had originally been a retail store selling ID Technology software and TG computers. A dedicated server had been installed for customer management, and as its capacity grew, it had become the largest in the eastern region. Until a proper data center was built, its performance was more than adequate, so Manhattan had been chosen as the eastern starting point.

Naturally, a starting point had also been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠planned for the central region—in Denver, Colorado—from which cables would spread in all four directions. However, they could not begin work there yet. Many elements were still missing, from the cables themselves to laying equipment and administrative procedures. For now, they had no choice but to start from Coyote City.

Corning was running its factories at full capacity, and permits were coming in from various state governments. Simultaneous groundbreaking across multiple sites before autumn should not be difficult.

The ceremony site had been decorated magnificently. In addition to the traditional groundbreaking shovel ceremony, a large multivision screen had been installed on one side so attendees could watch videos, and several New Egg 2 PCs were set up nearby.

When Yoo Jae-won arrived, it was one hour before the event was scheduled to begin. Since ID Technology was hosting, he had come early to fulfill his role as host.

“Preparations are perfect.”

Remington had been coming to the site for several days to prepare for the event. Although the name “Information Superhighway Groundbreaking Ceremony” sounded grand, the essence was simply marking the start of cable-laying construction, so there had been no need for the vice chairman himself to attend. However, ID Group and Yoo Jae-won, who were currently engaged in a public opinion battle with several broadcasters, had decided to use this event as the signal flare for their counterattack. That was why both the president and chairman were personally present.

Thanks to that, the guest list was impressive. Presidents of companies in Silicon Valley that manufactured network and broadcasting equipment had gathered, along with a large number of San Francisco politicians.

“It’s been a while.”

“Welcome, Vice President Al Gore.”

Al Gore, who had a deep connection with Yoo Jae-won, provided the crowning touch. Having preached the necessity of the information superhighway since the presidential campaign, it would have been absurd for Al Gore to miss the ceremony where the first shovel was turned.

The invitation had arrived only five days earlier, an extremely tight schedule, but Al Gore had moved up his original plans and flown in on his private jet to attend.

When Yoo Jae-won and Al Gore shook hands, camera flashes went off in rapid succession. A considerable number of media outlets had come to cover the event, so the two men had to remain smiling with their hands clasped for quite some time.

After greeting all the VIPs, Yoo Jae-won declared the start of the ceremony. It began with the multivision screen. Accompanied by majestic music, a short video played. It showed concrete examples of how the information superhighway would change daily life: sending high-definition video and massive amounts of data instantly between America, Europe, and Asia; receiving real-time city traffic information and applying it to navigation systems. The examples of how faster networks would eliminate constraints of time and space were presented as naturally as possible.

With the prepared New Egg 2 computers, they could even demonstrate broadband internet directly. The name of the service was Nextcom 2.0.

The current Nextcom portal was primarily text-based. It was not due to lack of technology but because connection speeds were still slow. Nextcom 2.0 broke free of those speed limitations and pushed visuals to the extreme with images and videos. Clicking on news on the portal page brought up photos by default. There were even SD-quality high-definition videos by 1993 standards. Industry professionals experiencing the service could only stare with their mouths agape.

Yet articles with photos or videos were merely the beginning. They demonstrated downloading and installing software equivalent to dozens of floppy disks with a single click, as well as rapidly exchanging large data files. Such things were possible because every New Egg 2 computer present was connected to the data center via optical cable. There was no need to worry about transmission speed. As long as the computers’ performance held up, they could deliver an unlimited visual shock.

The words, which sounded embarrassingly grandiose, had been carefully prepared by the secretary’s office. Yoo Jae-won spoke them first, after which the VIPs each took a turn with the shovel. Fireworks exploded on cue, and the excavators began serious cable-laying work along the pre-dug lines.

That concluded the on-site ceremony. The next part of the program was to move to San Jose for a banquet.

“Thank you. Thanks to Chairman Yoo, the information superhighway project can begin smoothly.”

Before they started moving, Al Gore approached Yoo Jae-won to express his gratitude. The backbone network should have been built with government funds, yet thanks to Yoo Jae-won the administration could take all the credit without spending a single dollar.

“Not at all. I’m doing this for my own business.”

Of course, Yoo Jae-won was not running a charity. He would collect usage fees from individual users as well as corporations and governments. The pricing plan he had in mind was a flat rate for ordinary users and usage-based billing for profit-seeking companies. In his previous life, the wildly popular Netflix service had once accounted for thirty percent of internet traffic, exerting tremendous pressure on carriers, yet the carriers could not charge more than the contracted rates. Yoo Jae-won intended to calculate corporate usage down to the last cent.

Gratitude was gratitude, but business was business.

“By the way, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who are these people?”

Al Gore’s question referred to the crew following a step behind Yoo Jae-won. There was a cameraman carrying a large ENG camera on his shoulder, a PD, and a writer who stayed close to the cameraman issuing various instructions—a total of three people.

“Ah, they’re a reporting team from KBS, a Korean broadcaster.”

The reason Yoo Jae-won had stood in front of the stylist since morning was today’s groundbreaking ceremony, but KBS also played a small part. The program they were making would remain as official Daejeon Expo video material, so he had endured the inconvenience in order to leave behind ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the most polished image possible.

“They came to produce a special program on the Daejeon Expo.”

“Expo?”

Al Gore showed interest at Yoo Jae-won’s words.

“Yes. Our ID Group is also opening a massive pavilion at the Daejeon Expo focused on information and communications. It opens on August 7th. If you’re interested, shall I invite you as a VIP?”

“Would that be all right? I wouldn’t be imposing?”

“It would be my greater honor if Vice President Al Gore would attend.”

The PD, who had been listening to Yoo Jae-won’s English, stood with his mouth hanging open. He had not expected the Vice President of the United States to be invited so casually.

“Thank you. But if I come alone, won’t Bill feel left out? He is also very interested in information and communications.”

“Then I will invite President Clinton as well.”

A gasp escaped. The culprit was the PD standing near the KBS cameraman. He had suspected something when Al Gore said “Bill,” but when the words “President Clinton” actually left Yoo Jae-won’s mouth, the PD looked ready to faint.