Technopia 1993
Technopia 1993
“Ah, that is……”
It was Kang Chan-ho, the factory manager, who stepped forward to answer. His original profession had been running a small sign-design company in Yeoju, but a connection with Yoo Jae-won had brought him to this position. Until last year he had managed the packaging factory in the Deokjin-ri industrial complex; now he had been appointed manager of the LCD factory. Once the LCD plant was completed, he would oversee at least a thousand production workers and the entire massive facility, making him the executive with the largest number of subordinates in the entire ID Group. His rank would naturally rise to director level, and his compensation would follow accordingly.
Those who knew Kang Chan-ho well felt a pang of envy at the sight. They said he had been lucky enough to join the explosively growing ID Group as an early member and had secured an executive title within just a few years. That assessment, however, missed the full picture. ID Group did not automatically place early members on a fast-track promotion train. They still had to possess the ability to match their position, and Factory Manager Kang Chan-ho had studied diligently to meet that standard. Though his days were short, he carved out time to attend night university and even completed an MBA program, acquiring the qualifications necessary to serve as an executive in a large corporation. A clear example was his introduction of the Six Sigma quality-management innovation method, which was still virtually unknown in Korea at the time.
Some might wonder why such an elaborate system was needed for manufacturing software packages, but the defect rate had indeed been troublingly high. The most critical issue was damage to the master diskettes. ID Group had been using SKC diskettes from Seongkyung, with a typical defect rate of 0.001 percent. While that figure looked extremely low, it still meant one defective diskette in every hundred thousand. Since each software package normally contained ten or more diskettes, even one defective package out of every thousand was a serious problem—especially when ID Technology was shipping packages to retail outlets worldwide in quantities well exceeding a million units.
Factory Manager Kang Chan-ho boldly switched the diskette supplier from SKC to 3M, added an error-checking function to the duplication machines, and improved the method of loading finished diskettes into packages. Through these changes he reduced the defect rate to 2 ppb—two defects per billion units. Although the unit price of the diskettes rose and the duplication machines took longer to run, he offset the increases by improving efficiency elsewhere, so the overall production cost per package remained virtually unchanged. Because he had examined even the invisible details and driven meaningful change, Yoo Jae-won had not hesitated to appoint Manager Kang as head of the LCD factory.
Even so, when Kang Chan-ho spoke about Sharp’s engineers, he hesitated slightly. It was now 1993, yet the Japanese mindset had not changed much from before. Even when the engineers on the production floor asked questions, the Japanese staff gave incomplete answers, and it was difficult to obtain clear explanations for why certain settings had to be made in a particular way.
“Hmm, is that so?”
Yoo Jae-won’s reaction was not what Kang Chan-ho had expected. The factory manager had been seething at the Sharp engineers’ attitude and had felt partly responsible for failing to bring them into line, so speaking up had required considerable resolve. He had braced himself for a reprimand, yet the response was merely “Is that so?”
In truth, Yoo Jae-won’s calm was understandable. From his perspective, Sharp’s LCD technology was nothing particularly remarkable. It consisted of a CCFL backlight—essentially a fluorescent tube shrunk to the size of a pencil lead—sandwiched between liquid-crystal panels, then covered with polarizing film and protective glass. The quality of an LCD depended on how finely the liquid crystals could be controlled, and Sharp’s technology was still rudimentary. The response speed was slow and crude, producing noticeable afterimages. Yet among the LCDs then available on the market, it was still the best option, which was why Yoo Jae-won had chosen it.
“In that case, send those problematic Sharp engineers back.”
One of Yoo Jae-won’s scheduled appointments that day had been to meet the Sharp engineers. After hearing Kang Chan-ho’s report, he saw no need for the meeting.
“You mean send them back to Japan?”
“Yes. Their skills are too lacking—they cannot even explain the setting values. We will have to ask them to send better personnel.”
Yoo Jae-won had been taught that abusing one’s position as the stronger party was wrong, so he conducted business with the utmost humility whenever possible. In situations like this, however, the correct approach was to make it unmistakably clear who held the upper hand.
“If the newly arrived engineers also show a poor attitude, report it immediately. LCD technology is not exclusive to Sharp.”
Although Epson was also a Japanese company, it too possessed original LCD technology. Moreover, Yoo Jae-won’s mind already contained far more advanced LCD technologies—starting with IPS-LCD and extending all the way to LED and OLED. The reason he had still formed a technical partnership with Sharp was simple: unveiling a generational leap in technology the moment the factory opened would be outside the bounds of common sense. It was far more natural to first produce first-generation LCD products using Sharp’s technology, then announce the next-generation products as the result of in-house development.
“Understood!”
Recognizing the firmness in Yoo Jae-won’s decision, Factory Manager Kang Chan-ho answered at once. With that single order, the comfortable “well-being life” the Sharp engineers had been enjoying in Korea—where they had assumed they were superior—was effectively sentenced to death.
Immediately afterward, Yoo Jae-won began the official ceremony: the unveiling of the signboard for the LCD factory. Until now the Daejeon LCD plant had lacked a proper name. It had even belonged to the ambiguously defined Korean division of ID Technology. Starting today, an independent business division would be formally launched. At the same time, production staff, office workers, and executives would be recruited so that large-scale LCD operations could begin in earnest by early next year.
The sequence might have seemed out of order, but what did it matter? Whether the steps were taken in the “correct” sequence or not, the goal was to enrich the world through technology and earn substantial profits. The ceremony was kept modest. Beside the main factory building stood a five-story structure that would house the cafeteria, rest areas, and on-site offices. The entire event consisted of nothing more than hanging the signboard at the entrance of this building.
ID Display.
The name engraved on the signboard looked almost perfunctory, yet it carried a grand meaning. It signified the ambition to produce not only LCDs but every kind of next-generation display device. The beginning would be monitor panels, but the division was destined to grow into a massive enterprise manufacturing high-resolution displays for mobile phones and smartphones as well.
A few days later.
With the Expo opening now less than two weeks away, Yoo Jae-won had been staying in Daejeon since several days earlier, personally directing the final preparations for the pavilion. He did not involve himself in every detail. Tasks such as recruiting guides—who had been selected from hundreds of applicants—and handling electricity and communications were managed by Choi Kang-wook, Lee Chan-soo, Kim Taek-jun, and other members of ID Technology’s Korean branch. Yoo Jae-won focused on the core operational systems: item setup, the visitor-flow system, and the reservation system.
With vivid memories of his previous life, Yoo Jae-won knew an enormous crowd would descend on the Expo. He himself had visited an Expo once and remembered little except standing in line for half a day to enter a single large pavilion. He was determined that the ID Group pavilion would not repeat that nightmare of endless queues. That was why he had created the reservation system. Visitors could book a date and time in advance via PC communication or telephone and receive a reservation ticket, eliminating the need to line up. If a household had a printer, they could output a barcode that served directly as an admission ticket; if not, they received a reservation number that could be exchanged for a ticket at the entrance.
The admission ticket was also useful inside the pavilion. Roughly one hundred New Egg 2 PCs would be installed for visitors to experience PC communication, Nextcom 2.0, and even games released by ID Software. All one hundred machines were networked, allowing everything from random video chats to smooth multiplayer gaming. These PCs remained locked by default; to use one, a visitor had to scan the barcode on their ticket. After server verification, the lock would release and the PC could be used freely. Usage time was limited—twenty minutes per ticket—whether spent on a PC or at other experience booths inside the pavilion. The time limit was strictly enforced. Once the allotted time ended, visitors were required to leave, after which a ten-minute maintenance period followed before the next group entered.
The twenty-minute slot was not fixed; if crowds grew heavy, it could be shortened to eighteen or even fifteen minutes. In addition, the system collected cumulative data on which booths were heavily or lightly used, allowing far more efficient program improvements. Building a system that integrated the barcode on the admission ticket into every aspect of operations was a substantial project, yet for Yoo Jae-won—with his accumulated experience—it was not particularly difficult. ID Technology also had many developers already accustomed to the internet, so once Yoo Jae-won outlined the big picture and distributed the tasks, the work progressed rapidly.
“The real problem is the scalpers.”
Although the barcode authentication program was being set up quickly, the element still troubling Yoo Jae-won was the likelihood that people would abuse the reservation system. Once launched, it was obvious that ticket scalpers and resellers would appear. The issue ultimately came down to how to verify that the person who made the reservation was the one actually using it—an issue even Yoo Jae-won could not solve easily.
“Hmm. In the beginning, should we accept reservations only from schools and organizations?”
The Expo’s main visitors would be schools. Group visits from elementary through high school were a mandatory part of the curriculum across the country. Accepting reservations from schools with twenty or more students would keep the schedule fully booked for one or two months. Schools were also easy to verify, which would prevent scalpers from operating.
“Foreign visitors will come through travel agencies, so we can allocate a portion to the agencies as well.”
The simulation in Yoo Jae-won’s mind moved quickly. After considering every angle, he could find no better policy. Standing in line under the blazing August sun was an ordeal no one should have to endure.
“Individual visitors will be dissatisfied, but we cannot satisfy everyone.”
Around late September, once the initial excitement of the Expo had cooled, they could open reservations to individuals as well.
Having finalized the reservation policy, Yoo Jae-won immediately notified Choi Kang-wook and the Expo organizing committee via ID Talk. He especially instructed Choi Kang-wook to launch a large-scale advertising campaign; publicity was essential to the policy’s success. Even if it cost money, placing advertisements in newspapers and on television in advance would produce reliable results.
Knock, knock.
“Yes, come in.”
While working in the server room on the top floor of the pavilion, Yoo Jae-won paused at the sound of knocking. It was his habit, whenever he stopped working even briefly, to save his progress. He pressed the project-save command and saved every open document.
A moment later the door clicked open.
“Still working?”
The person who entered the server room was none other than Lee Yong-kwon, president of TG—the man Yoo Jae-won had been seeing most frequently in recent days. Tucked under his arm was a white box.
“Whoa! Is that the one?”
Yoo Jae-won’s face lit up and he reached out. Lee Yong-kwon handed the box over with a casual “Here you go.”
Despite its plain exterior, the packaging was meticulous. Even the corrugated cardboard felt different—far more refined than ordinary boxes. Every seam was sealed with tamper-evident stickers; if anyone had opened it earlier, the evidence would be unmistakable.
Yoo Jae-won tore off the stickers without hesitation and opened the box. Inside was the tablet PC he had been diligently designing for months.
“Wow!”
A spontaneous exclamation escaped him. He had seen rendered images while designing it on the computer, but the real object felt entirely different—on another dimension. Most of all, the finished quality of the device actually resting in his hands exceeded expectations. No matter how much he twisted the joined edges of the top and bottom panels, no gap appeared at the seams. The home button on the bottom, the volume buttons and power button on the side, the USB port, and the 3.5 mm headphone jack—all were perfectly secure. Even the 300,000-pixel camera module on the front was stably mounted. If this level of quality could be maintained through mass production, TG becoming the world’s number-one computer manufacturer would be no problem at all.
Yoo Jae-won immediately pressed the power button for five seconds. The cold-boot and simple screen-off functions had been combined into a single button, with duration used to distinguish between them. Anyone who had used a smartphone before would find the method familiar, but in the entire world only Yoo Jae-won possessed that experience.
A whirring sound emerged—the 2.5-inch miniature hard disk spinning up. Because it was motor-driven, both noise and slight vibration were noticeable. Once flash-memory technology became widespread, storage devices could be made entirely of semiconductors and eliminate this drawback, but that day was still far off. In the meantime, the boot process finished quickly. Thanks to the Android operating system Yoo Jae-won himself had optimized for portable devices, the tablet started in less than a minute.
The desktop had also evolved beyond the Ribbon Interface—the hallmark of the Android OS—into a layout designed exclusively for touchscreens. Icons were larger, and every function could be operated with a single finger.
“President, let’s take a selfie together.”
Yoo Jae-won tapped the camera icon and approached President Lee Yong-kwon. Holding the tablet PC at arm’s length with both hands, he found a good angle and pressed the shutter. With a soft click, the image of a smiling Yoo Jae-won and a slightly awkward-looking Lee Yong-kwon was captured inside the tablet.
Because the CCD’s resolution was only 300,000 pixels, the image lacked sharpness. Instead, the software emphasized a soft, flattering correction effect that made Lee Yong-kwon look like an entirely different person. Since the camera worked properly as well, the tablet PC was a complete success.
“How many units did you bring today?”
“One hundred sets, not counting the one you’re holding. We’ll deliver all three hundred by August 2nd.”
Lee Yong-kwon spoke with confidence, and Yoo Jae-won nodded. The tablet PCs would serve both as demonstration units inside the pavilion and as devices issued to the guides. By connecting each tablet to the central server via Ethernet, every situation could be monitored in real time. Empty experience booths could be identified instantly and visitors guided accordingly; if any issue arose, immediate action could be taken through the tablet. Because the communication was two-way, if a lost child occurred, a guide could contact the management office directly and resolve the problem on the spot.
Starting with the tablets Lee Yong-kwon had brought, the exhibition devices manufactured by ID High Tech arrived one after another—delivered perfectly, without a single day’s delay or any accident in transit.
Time passed swiftly.
On August 5th, the grand curtain of the Daejeon Expo rose with the eve festival. The ID Technopia Pavilion, prepared with the theme of the ultimate utopia achieved through technology, opened its long-closed doors amid an opening ceremony that would be remembered for years to come.