The Internet Lecture Initiative
"Have you given any thought to the assignment the chairman gave us?" Choi Kang-wook asked the moment he and Kim Taek-jun settled into their office.
"Ah, I worry my thoughts weren't deep enough to satisfy him." A troubled look immediately crossed Kim Taek-jun's face. He had only begun pondering the email the day before, so there was no way a proper idea had formed yet.
"The chairman will be the one evaluating it, so don't feel pressured. I simply want to see whether our ideas overlap or how they differ."
Don't feel pressured? The fact that the chairman himself would be judging the work only made it more daunting. Still, having Choi Kang-wook right there to think it through together eased Kim Taek-jun's mind somewhat.
"Ah, yes. Then I'll share what I have. May I use my Shell Book?"
After receiving the email yesterday, Kim Taek-jun had jotted down every idea that came to mind and stored them in the Shell Book he always carried.
"Of course. No need to ask—just do whatever feels comfortable."
With Choi Kang-wook's permission, Kim Taek-jun pulled out his Shell Book. Working at an IT company—especially ID Technology—meant owning a Shell Book was practically mandatory. When it came to presentations, nothing was more convenient.
Once everything was set up, Kim Taek-jun began.
"Honestly, when I first received the chairman's instructions, I thought they were completely out of left field. Education services? That's an entirely different industry. But after thinking it over, I realized it was actually a rather promising idea."
Just as he said, Kim Taek-jun had initially wondered why they were suddenly venturing into private education. Yet even a brief consideration revealed strong synergy with the internet. While he hadn't yet finalized specific features or confirmed feasibility, the accessibility and two-way communication strengths of the internet stood out. Moreover, with the increased bandwidth of ADSL, real-time video streaming at decent quality became viable—making the concept quite attractive.
"That aligns closely with what I was thinking. Though two-way interaction might prove challenging," Choi Kang-wook added. He, too, had felt perplexed upon reading Yoo Jae-won's email. Yet he recalled the chaos surrounding the recent college entrance exam and how the shift to the new system would likely expand the private education market significantly. Since the second exam was in November, focusing the internet lectures on exam preparation seemed like a solid starting point. Still, true two-way interaction felt unrealistic—one instructor per subject could never handle questions from hundreds or thousands of students. Hiring assistant instructors would defeat the purpose; the core appeal of internet lectures lay in learning directly from top-tier instructors.
In short, Choi Kang-wook emphasized the quality of the instructors, while Kim Taek-jun focused on the internet's technical capabilities. Discussing it together, they began to understand why the chairman had tasked both of them with the same assignment.
"Then we'll need to recruit renowned instructors from Jongno. But will they even be willing to come?"
"Many will hesitate since it's an unfamiliar field. Still, most social problems can be solved with money. We could limit the initial subjects to Korean, English, and math while offering the instructors significantly higher compensation."
"Ah, that should work well."
Kim Taek-jun readily agreed. He had been so focused on the technical side that content had taken a backseat. After all, he and his team would be the ones actually building the system, so his thoughts naturally gravitated there first. As Choi Kang-wook pointed out, covering every subject would be overwhelming; starting with just Korean, English, and math for the exam would be far more manageable.
"Ah, and we could also tie this into the Kookmin PC initiative."
Shifting perspective sparked another good idea from Kim Taek-jun. Subsidies would lower computer prices, but parents would still be the ones opening their wallets. Thanks to Yoo Jae-won, computers were no longer seen merely as gaming devices but as tools for social advancement—yet that perception still needed strengthening. If internet lectures could demonstrate clear academic benefits, many parents would be willing to invest. Korean parents' passion for education, including his own, was formidable.
"It looks like we've covered the big picture. Shall we organize this and send an email to the chairman?"
With the rough outline complete, Choi Kang-wook sat down at the computer. True to his leadership style, he never put off what needed to be done.
The next day, Yoo Jae-won began his usual routine in the study of his new home. Though the house was far more luxurious, his mornings remained unchanged: a light breakfast, then work. He booted the computer with his toes, checked the news for overnight topics, and got started.
Opening ID Talk revealed the usual flood of emails. As the user base grew, spam increased, but ID Talk's latest update included automatic spam filtering. Yoo Jae-won's inbox now contained only work-related messages.
Scrolling through, he spotted an email with both Choi Kang-wook's and Kim Taek-jun's names. Just days after assigning them a joint task, the results had already arrived. Without hesitation, Yoo Jae-won opened it, decrypted the attachment, and began reading in his office program.
After several minutes of focused reading, he murmured, "Wow, impressive."
They had been given only the title "internet lectures," yet the deliverables exceeded expectations. The proposal included a modern internet lecture system and even exam-focused special content. The core idea was hiring star instructors from Daechi-dong to popularize expensive academy lectures. They also emphasized leveraging ADSL bandwidth for video streaming to boost engagement. ADSL had originally been designed for VOD, yet many IT professionals overlooked this. Kim Taek-jun's suggestion of video streaming deserved high marks.
However, Kim Taek-jun proposed building a custom client for streaming lectures, which wasn't necessary.
"ID Web Browser 3.0 already supports video streaming natively."
Yoo Jae-won's sudden assignment of the internet lecture task stemmed directly from ID Web Browser 3.0. Despite the organizational changes, the Android development team in Redmond had been working tirelessly. In addition to the next Android OS patch, they were developing multiple software projects simultaneously—one of which was ID Web Browser.
Originally supporting only images, text, and links, ID Web Browser had gained numerous features through continuous updates. These technologies were immediately shared via W3C as web standards, allowing derivative browsers to adopt major updates without independent development.
The key new feature in version 3.0, currently in beta testing, was native video playback. Simply uploading a file to a web server and linking it or embedding it as an object allowed ID Web Browser to handle streaming automatically. The Android video codec Yoo Jae-won created needed to be pre-installed, but it came bundled with the latest updates, so there were no major issues.
The adult entertainment industry would undoubtedly be the first to embrace video streaming, given its history of aligning with the internet's evolution and its eagerness to adopt new technologies. Yet ID Group had no intention of operating in that space. Leaving streaming associated solely with adult content would be problematic. The most representative legitimate service to demonstrate video streaming's potential was internet lectures.
Yoo Jae-won could have assembled his own team to prepare the service. Instead, he wondered whether people's mindsets had advanced alongside the hardware. That curiosity led him to assign the task specifically to Choi Kang-wook and Kim Taek-jun as a test. The results were highly satisfying. Just as computer technology had accelerated by roughly three years, people's awareness had clearly improved as well. While only two individuals had been tested, it was reassuring that his closest associates possessed forward-thinking mindsets.
Moreover, they had cleverly connected the project to the Kookmin PC initiative and the upcoming exam season—a marketing angle Yoo Jae-won himself hadn't considered. That exceeded his expectations.
"This deserves full support."
Yoo Jae-won immediately allocated substantial resources to ensure rapid, high-quality preparation. He authorized generous budgets to recruit top Daechi-dong instructors and build robust servers capable of handling large user volumes.
"Next up… Qualcomm."
After handling the first report in good spirits, Yoo Jae-won moved on. The second email concerned mobile phones, his current top priority, and contained an update on Qualcomm's CDMA modem chip development.
Preparations for a mobile phone far superior to the first-generation analog models were nearly complete. While the high-performance phone capable of running Doom 1 that Yoo Jae-won envisioned required a mobile CPU—still in early development—phones with foldable or bar designs featuring 4- or 8-line LCDs for text and image viewing were almost ready. Most components, from batteries to LCDs, were available. The only missing piece was Qualcomm's modem chip.
Qualcomm's technical capabilities had been insufficient, prompting the Electronics and Telecommunications Research Institute to provide support. In his previous life, the institute's technology had been licensed at a bargain rate, leaving Korea vulnerable to Qualcomm's royalty demands. This time was different. A proper contract had been drafted, ensuring the institute received equity proportional to its contributions. This change stemmed from Yoo Jae-won's influence as a major Qualcomm shareholder. He had wanted rapid completion and connected Qualcomm with the institute while ensuring a fair contract. As a result, approximately 12% of Qualcomm's CDMA technology equity now belonged to Korea—a modest but meaningful improvement over receiving nothing in his past life.
Despite the institute's involvement, the physical modem chip had yet to materialize.
"Still the same issue."
The latest email mirrored the previous one. Technical verification was complete, and a small IC chip was in production, but results remained unsatisfactory. Reception was poor, and packet errors were frequent.
The technological acceleration Yoo Jae-won initiated had applied evenly to computers but not to mobile communications. There were countless reasons—and just as many potential solutions. Of course, his direct involvement would resolve it quickly.
"I don't have two or three bodies. That would be overdoing it."
Time and money would eventually solve Qualcomm's modem chip. Since Yoo Jae-won had already begun independent mobile CPU development, he decided focusing there was wiser. He replied urging faster progress and moved on.
After diligently handling his agenda, Yoo Jae-won finally launched the semiconductor design program on his PC well past lunchtime.
"I'm home from school."
Choi Young-sik called out his usual greeting, knowing no reply would come. He headed straight to his room, tossed his backpack aside, and sat at his computer to power it on.
The 486 computer, humming as it booted, was Choi Young-sik's most prized possession. Though now overshadowed by 586 models and the recently released HPC, his affection for it had remained unchanged since his mother bought it with great effort a year ago. The only inconvenience was the long boot time.
After the BIOS screen passed, the Android tin robot animation appeared, indicating loading. The progress bar crawled upward at a turtle's pace—moments when various thoughts drifted through Choi Young-sik's mind.
Today, oddly enough, he thought of his father. Choi Young-sik's father had passed away in a hit-and-run accident when he was too young to remember. The culprit was never caught, so no compensation had been received. His mother had taken on work early to support the family, meaning she was rarely home during weekday afternoons.
Even with her diligence, their household finances barely improved—they managed only to get by. That was how things stood until Choi Young-sik entered elementary school. When his classmate Yoo Jae-won mentioned needing help with his work, Choi Young-sik joined without hesitation, since there was nothing waiting for him at home anyway.
At the time, he hadn't fully understood what Yoo Jae-won was doing. What kind of business could an elementary school student run? Still, he followed his mother's advice to get along with friends and thought it might be fun. Looking back, following Yoo Jae-won that day had been the greatest stroke of luck in his life.
Back then, the "business" seemed like adults doing side jobs—folding boxes—but the unexpected snacks made it enjoyable. That day also marked the beginning of his computer education under Yoo Jae-won and his growing interest in programming.
Even more remarkable was how Yoo Jae-won's business had succeeded spectacularly, transforming Choi Young-sik's own life. The factory producing Yoo Jae-won's software packages had opened on a large scale in Yeoju, and his mother had secured employment there. From that point on, their precarious household ledger finally gained a savings column. His mother no longer needed to work late at restaurants; she came home around six in the evening and took Sundays off completely. Holidays and national holidays were strictly observed, and gifts appeared as well.
Thanks to their improved circumstances, the computer now sitting before Choi Young-sik had become possible. Along with it came a clear goal: to study hard and support his friend Yoo Jae-won from his side.
Of course, he wasn't the only one with such thoughts. Jumin and Soo-kyung, who had learned computers alongside Yoo Jae-won in elementary school, felt the same. They didn't hide these feelings either. During occasional ID Talk chats with Yoo Jae-won, they would joke about becoming his right arm or left arm—it had become routine.
"Ah, finally."
While lost in thought, the boot process completed and the desktop appeared—a plain black screen with few icons. To maximize speed, he had disabled the wallpaper and minimized icons. Choi Young-sik immediately activated the modem and launched the terminal. He also ran his custom program, linking it to the terminal. A remote access screen appeared, and his ID and password were automatically entered as the connection attempt began.
Choi Young-sik was participating in the second Security Challenge. At first, even viewing the login screen had been difficult, but as time passed, the number of challengers had dwindled dramatically. Now he could reach the login screen with relative ease.
Knowing his own abilities, Choi Young-sik had never aimed to crack the Security Challenge. He would be satisfied simply finding even one vulnerability in the Android OS. A few days ago, he had found a small clue and planned to test it properly today.
Ding~!
At the worst possible moment, just as he was about to attempt something meaningful, an alarm sounded. An email had arrived via ID Talk.
"Huh?"
Assuming it was from friends, he opened it and was startled. It was indeed from a friend—but not just any friend. The email came from his most special friend, Yoo Jae-won.