Fields Medal and Military Exemption
"I am Jean-Pierre, President of the International Mathematical Union." The gentleman's mid-range voice carried such refined English pronunciation that Yoo Jae-won initially assumed he was British—until the unmistakably French name dispelled the notion.
"The reason for my call is to extend an invitation to the International Congress of Mathematicians, scheduled for August 10th in Zurich, Switzerland. We would be honored by your presence."
"That is quite an honor. May I ask what role I would be fulfilling?"
Yoo Jae-won had already guessed the purpose through sharp intuition, yet he asked directly, wanting confirmation.
"Naturally, as a recipient. Congratulations. You have been selected for the 1994 Fields Medal in recognition of your proof of the Poincaré conjecture. Your attendance at the congress would be a tremendous honor for us all."
Though he had suspected as much, hearing it aloud felt entirely different. Joy surged through him, accompanied by a pang of guilt. The equations he had written in a single stroke were knowledge born from an artificial intelligence that had surpassed the technological singularity of the mid-21st century. His approach diverged significantly from the method Grigori Perelman would have used. By claiming the glory first, he felt something like a plunderer.
"The honor is mine. Of course I will attend."
"Haha! Hearing that puts me greatly at ease. We were quite concerned you might decline, given how busy you have been lately."
Jean-Pierre's voice shifted with audible relief over the line. He had clearly worried Yoo Jae-won might refuse or cite his schedule as an obstacle. Yet attendance was non-negotiable for Yoo Jae-won—because of the military service exemption.
Last year, under the leadership of the Tongil National Party, provisions for military exemptions had been codified into the Military Service Act. Previously, such exemptions had rested on presidential decrees; now they were enshrined in statute. The change caused little disruption, as it largely formalized existing regulations. However, the scope—once heavily skewed toward the arts and sports—expanded into academia under the banner of technological advancement for the nation. Recipients of the Nobel Prize or other awards of comparable prestige were now eligible for exemption. The Fields Medal was explicitly listed among them. Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon's promise had been fulfilled exactly as stated.
"There is one thing I would like to know."
"Yes? Anything I can answer, I will."
"Who are the other recipients besides myself?"
The Fields Medal was never awarded to a single individual. Though the congress convened only once every four years, recipients were selected annually, with the formal presentation occurring at the congress—an unwritten rule.
"Ah, no other recipients have been finalized yet. You were the first selected, which is why I am contacting you now."
"I see."
A trace of disappointment colored Yoo Jae-won's voice. Just as with Perelman, someone who should have received the 1994 Fields Medal had likely been displaced because of him. He wanted to know who that person was. Even if displaced, their research achievements remained intact, and their chances of receiving the medal in the future were high. Still, the guilt lingered. He had hoped to offer research funding as a gesture of sincerity.
Perelman had been a mathematical talent of extraordinary potential who ultimately faded from the world without recognition, his reclusive nature intensified after the collapse of Russia's social safety net. Yoo Jae-won intended to secure him a position at the Moscow High-Tech Research Institute or provide research support before Russia's situation deteriorated further, preventing him from becoming the same isolated scholar.
"One more thing—please keep the recipient selection confidential until August 1st."
"Ah, of course."
"Your achievements are so significant that those in the know are already aware. This is not a strict requirement, and failure to maintain secrecy will not result in cancellation. However, it would simplify matters considerably if the information remains contained."
"That is perfectly reasonable. I already have mountains of work ahead of me, so I would prefer to avoid unnecessary complications."
"Excellent. We will contact you regarding the schedule and protocol in early August. I look forward to seeing you in Switzerland."
"Likewise."
After ending the call, Yoo Jae-won handed the receiver to Kim Dae-seok, who had been waiting nearby. Yoo Jae-won's voice had been clear, and the phone's audio quality was excellent, so Kim Dae-seok had heard every word. Though his English had once been limited to reading under the old Korean education system of the late 1980s, he could now understand any speaker without a heavy accent. Having clearly grasped the Fields Medal announcement, his face was flushed with excitement. Yet he said nothing. He had also heard the embargo until August 1st. Yoo Jae-won knew Kim Dae-seok's discretion well and offered no additional instructions.
Still, he regretted being unable to share the news immediately with his parents, who took such pride in their son's accomplishments. If he called now, the entire neighborhood would know within an hour, and media coverage would inevitably follow.
Time passed swiftly, and soon the final week of May arrived. Revitalized by Jean-Pierre's call after a period of exhaustion, Yoo Jae-won threw himself into programming with renewed vigor. Progress accelerated by at least ten days beyond the projected schedule—not merely a feeling, but measurable results. While Yoo Jae-won's abilities were decisive, the dedication of the Alpha Team and Android's development staff could not be overlooked. They had followed his leadership wholeheartedly. He had provided strong guidelines on programming syntax and processes, and with few exceptions, the team adopted his methods.
These guidelines did not involve arbitrarily modifying the C language used to build the Android operating system. Android had not yet developed its own developer tools; only Yoo Jae-won's custom compiler and libraries existed. Core components such as the ribbon interface, dynamic memory management, and the Android file system were all made available through libraries. Naturally, these tools were years ahead of competitors. Though the compiler and libraries belonged to Android, copyright terms permitted free use—whether for profit or non-profit—as long as the original code remained unmodified. This policy spurred rapid growth in the Android ecosystem, from enterprise-grade development tools to simple programmer editors.
Because the compiler strictly adhered to standard C, anyone familiar with C syntax needed no additional grammar instruction. Yet just as writers infused their prose with personal style despite standardized grammar, programmers brought individuality to their code. New developers joining ID Group were first required to master the programming conventions—everything from naming functions and variables to the precise usage of various brackets. No exceptions were made for experience level. The source code of ID Office served as the reference standard; all future code was expected to match its style.
Android, however, had inherited many programmers directly from Microsoft. As a result, Yoo Jae-won's guidelines had not been consistently followed. This was the opportunity to firmly establish his standards across Android's development teams. Some resistance emerged—questions about why formatting mattered as long as the compiled code functioned. A few who refused to adapt were reassigned from the Alpha Team to general development. Those who could not accept the demotion ultimately resigned.
Yoo Jae-won's emphasis on uniformity stemmed from concerns of reusability and productivity. Anyone should be able to understand the code at a glance and modify it if needed. Once written, code should be reusable across projects. Furthermore, he planned to introduce a virtual machine platform allowing identical source code to run on PCs, smartphones, and IoT-enabled appliances alike. Maintaining standardized syntax and commenting conventions was therefore essential.
Yoo Jae-won's broader vision naturally included artificial intelligence. Eventually, AI would replace programming jobs, but that remained a distant prospect. In the near term, AI would assist programmers. Training AI to that level required vast amounts of data—specifically, source code written by programmers. Poorly structured code would drastically reduce learning efficiency. Having struggled with this issue in his previous life, Yoo Jae-won imposed rigorous guidelines from the outset to prevent such problems. Had the directives come from someone lacking charisma, backlash would have been severe. Yet because of his demonstrated results, only two developers resigned.
He also modified the process for designating master code. Previously, team leaders reviewed and approved code before uploading it to a dedicated server inaccessible from external networks, with strictly controlled access. Developers could conveniently monitor project progress within the company, and all modifications were timestamped for schedule management. The system, borrowed from Nextcom rather than developed in-house, proved so effective that milestone management software became unnecessary.
The server housed every version of Android source code, from Android Alpha through the current Beta 5. Access was tiered by developer rank, allowing reference to earlier code for new development. Even team leaders could only view their own sections and related resources; full access to the entire operating system source was limited to a handful of individuals. Yoo Jae-won possessed the highest clearance, enabling him to review all critical Beta 5 code and assess its current state.
He added one further step: instead of team leaders deciding golden code status, all code would be sent directly to him. Though the daily volume of source code produced at Android was enormous, he insisted on personally determining what advanced to golden status or required revision. He had not wanted this level of involvement, but the gap between team leaders' standards and his own left no alternative.
The Alpha Team had been apprehensive. Previously, team leader approval sufficed for progression; now Yoo Jae-won's scrutiny was added. Yet the feared slowdown never materialized. Development actually accelerated. Yoo Jae-won frequently completed half-finished modules within hours and offered concise solutions to stubborn problems. The more time he spent at his computer, the faster progress became. Simultaneously, the programmers' skills improved dramatically. Being thoroughly reviewed by Yoo Jae-won made them recognize their shortcomings, while his innovative code and comments provided invaluable learning experiences unavailable elsewhere.
Interestingly, once news spread that Yoo Jae-won was personally leading next-generation Android development in Redmond, Android's stock price began to climb.
"It closed at $37.75 per share today!"
Kevin Johnson and Vincent Greenhill were particularly delighted. After Android's listing, the stock had hovered in the mid-30s before gradually declining, even breaking below $30. While corporate PC shipments continued to rise—boosting Android's revenue—the market had grown accustomed to such news, stripping it of momentum. Reports of high software piracy rates in emerging Asian markets like Korea and China, with Android being the most duplicated operating system, had further pressured the price downward. Yoo Jae-won's high-profile return to Redmond for next-generation development ignited a rally from early May, culminating in today's breakthrough past the previous high to close at $37.75. For Kevin Johnson, responsible for stock management, and Vincent Greenhill, who had directed large-scale purchases of Android shares, it was welcome news indeed.
"Jae-won! July 15th!"
Another piece of good news arrived—this time from across the ocean, from Korea. It was Lee Yong-kwon, president of TG Group.
"Yes? What is happening on July 15th?"
"The PCS pilot service! It's finally set for July 15th!"
The term PCS felt slightly unfamiliar at first, but Yoo Jae-won quickly recalled it was Korea's designation for 2G wireless communications—branded as SPEED 010 by TG Mobile.