Idle Inquiry and Drone Breakthroughs
The mobile application processor suddenly felt like the only idle one. Yoo Jae-won had just endured the busiest November on record, yet by early December his workload had plummeted. Of course, the ID Group as a whole remained as hectic as ever. Though they had launched Quake, the Android 95 series, and ID Office 95, the flood of user feedback demanded constant vigilance against any potentially fatal bugs. Because Jae-won himself had refined the core kernel system, catastrophic crashes were nonexistent and stability was high, yet compatibility issues between hardware, application software, and the operating system still required ongoing attention, along with major patches every hundred days. Meanwhile, the departments preparing Jae-won’s newly conceived ventures had no concept of year-end downtime. Even divisions that had received no direct instructions were inevitably busy, for they had to prepare the year-end settlement that would evaluate this year’s performance.
“I can’t exactly ask Tiffany to play with me either.”
Even Tiffany was still occupied. With exam season upon her, the reaction he would receive if he asked her to hang out was all too predictable.
“Games are starting to feel like a burden too.”
He had enjoyed the company’s own titles whenever he had a spare moment, but now they left him faintly bored. On top of that, playing games was gradually becoming more obligation than pleasure. It was only natural; he had long since seen the endings of the single-player campaigns, leaving only multiplayer. Yet no opponent had yet matched his level of skill. More than two months had passed since Warcraft’s release, but the strategies players employed were still crude. To Jae-won, who could craft builds down to the second, multitask with extraordinary physical dexterity, and sustain production even while fighting chaotic skirmishes on multiple fronts, they were no match at all. The same held true for the FPS titles RTCW and Quake. Thanks to his extraordinary dynamic vision and precise control, he could display an almost insurmountable level of skill whenever he played in earnest. As a result, the Battle.net ID “ID*ONE” had become quite famous among gamers. At first, reports poured in accusing him of using hacks; once it was confirmed he was not, his notoriety only grew. Naturally, word also spread that the account belonged to Jae-won. Had game-streaming broadcasts existed in this era, his sudden rise would have caused an uproar, but fortunately the reaction was still limited to those who actually played with him. Even so, the commotion on internet bulletin boards made it impossible to enjoy games with the same enthusiasm as before.
“It seems I’m fated to find my own work.”
No subordinate would dare assign tasks to the group chairman. Jae-won was no exception. Even though he maintained friendly, informal relations with the executives around him, he remained the highest-ranking person in the company. No matter how close they were on a personal level, he could never bring himself to issue orders such as “handle this for me.” In the end, Jae-won opened his own email inbox and began searching for work on his own. Reports arrived constantly, so if he looked, he could generate as much work as he pleased.
“Oh? This looks interesting.”
It was a document titled “Mid-Level Manager Rating Change Report” submitted by the ID Human Resources Team. It recorded changes in evaluation scores for team leaders and department heads across the entire group. Among them, those who had experienced particularly large shifts had been extracted separately; given the sheer size of the group, even that filtered list exceeded one hundred names. A glance at the changes revealed at once what achievements had been made or what incidents had occurred. Of course, because the report had been compiled by HR itself, it would need to be cross-checked against the Intelligence Team’s reports before the full picture could be trusted, but for a quick overview it was sufficient.
As he scanned the document, something unusual caught Jae-won’s eye.
“What’s going on with this person?”
Cha Dong-jin, the HR Manager of the POS Division at ID Technology Korea, had recorded a minus-twelve point drop in his personnel rating this year alone. Moreover, the reasons for the accumulated deductions were remarkably simple: they stemmed from subordinates under Cha Dong-jin submitting resignations or requesting transfers. The stated reason for each deduction was “inadequate management of subordinates.” If a direct superior were penalized every time a subordinate resigned or requested a transfer, the situation would become absurd; subordinates could hold their bosses hostage simply by threatening to quit or change posts whenever they pleased. Naturally, resignations stemming from purely personal circumstances were not reflected in a superior’s evaluation. In other words, deductions appeared on the personnel rating only when the superior had directly instructed subordinates to resign or transfer. The fact that Cha Dong-jin had accepted a twelve-point penalty on his own evaluation meant he had taken such measures against six employees this year alone—an unprecedented record within the entire ID Group. Even more intriguing was that, despite the minus-twelve, his overall personnel score remained a respectable seventy-eight. Had the HR deductions not been applied, he would have scored ninety, placing him among the very top performers in the entire group. Naturally, Jae-won found himself curious about the kind of person Manager Cha Dong-jin was.
“The Audit Office would be best.”
Jae-won had initially considered issuing instructions to the Intelligence Team, but reversed course and chose the Audit Office instead. While the Intelligence Team was convenient to mobilize, doing so would have given the impression that employees were being spied upon. In reality, the Intelligence Team’s focus lay in gathering external information and blocking competitor espionage. The Audit Office, by contrast, had been established precisely to examine internal organizations, so its mandate was clear. Still, the arrival of the audit team would undoubtedly disturb the atmosphere of the affected division; yet given the unusual nature of Cha Dong-jin’s actions, there seemed no better place than the Audit Office to hear his explanation directly and investigate the reasons behind the personnel measures.
—This is certainly an unusual case.
When Jae-won relayed the instructions via ID Talk’s voice chat, Audit Office Director Im Eun-kyung responded immediately. She, too, agreed that the case was highly unusual.
—I will go and look into it personally.
“Please don’t press him too harshly. And take as much time as you need, so long as you uncover the facts accurately.”
Concerned by Im Eun-kyung’s background as a prosecutor, Jae-won did not forget to add a word of caution.
Several more days passed. Fortunately, Jae-won’s idleness had come to an end. By mid-December, the year-end settlement period had arrived, during which the ID Group would review its overall performance for 1994.
“Boss, it’s been a while.”
For the year-end settlement, Jae-won traveled in person to the ID Technology office in Silicon Valley. President Remington greeted him warmly.
“Come now, we spoke on ID Talk just yesterday.”
“True, but actually seeing someone feels quite different from chatting.”
“You’re right about that.”
Thinking back, the last time Jae-won had seen Remington in person was during the Android 95 announcement. Since then, they had only exchanged messages or calls. Jae-won nodded. No matter how diligently one chatted, sharing a cup of tea face-to-face built far stronger rapport. Of course, for someone shy or socially awkward, chatting might be preferable, yet nothing compared to speaking directly while looking someone in the eye.
“Emma’s growing well, I hope?”
“Heh, have a look at the photos.”
Remington picked up the tablet PC on his desk and brought up the pictures. It was the same model that had been used at the Daejeon Expo; once it became surplus, it had been distributed to ID Technology employees. Everyone was putting theirs to good use, and Remington appeared to be employing his as a digital photo frame.
“She’s turned into a mischievous four-year-old and is giving both Shannon and me quite a time.”
The Emma displayed on the tablet was the very picture of a little rascal. The playful expression on her face brought an involuntary smile to Jae-won’s lips. It was plain to see, even through the photograph, how deeply loved she was by her parents.
“Tell her to look forward to this year’s Christmas present as well.”
“You’re coming again this year?”
“Of course. I’m not becoming a nuisance, am I?”
“Absolutely not! Emma and Shannon will be delighted.”
Somehow, stopping by the Remington household for lunch or dinner each Christmas had become something of a tradition. Every visit, Jae-won personally prepared a gift for Emma, and the reactions had always been excellent. Given that he had an uncanny ability to read the trends children favored, it was hardly surprising.
After chatting at length about Emma, Jae-won walked with Remington to the office where they would conduct the year-end settlement.
“This will be the last time we do the year-end settlement in this office, won’t it?”
As they walked down the corridor, Remington spoke with a touch of nostalgia. It was understandable; next year, the new ID Technology building would be completed. Because the region experienced occasional earthquakes, the structure had been designed wide rather than tall. Thanks to that, construction was progressing rapidly, and occupancy was expected to finish by early summer next year.
“Well, if you’d like to keep coming here, feel free.”
That did not mean the existing Silicon Valley building or flagship store would be abandoned. Once everyone had moved to the new building, renovations would begin, after which the old facility would continue to be used in one form or another, so it would remain available.
“It was just a manner of speaking. I like new things too.”
Remington had been with Jae-won and the ID Group since before the organization had fully established its structure. Having witnessed the group’s growth firsthand, his sentiment was only natural. In Silicon Valley, where dozens of venture companies appeared and vanished without a trace every single day, ID Group was the only enterprise to have grown to such scale. Even more remarkable was that its growth rate had yet to slow even slightly. While preparing ID Technology’s year-end settlement, Remington had encountered abundant evidence of that continued momentum. He was eager to share those results with everyone as soon as possible. Unfortunately, today was not ID Technology’s turn. The ID Group encompassed numerous affiliates and a wide array of organizations ranging from research institutes to charitable foundations. Therefore, the process began lightly with the peripheral organizations, allowing the core affiliates more time to prepare precise year-end figures.
The year-end settlement was scheduled to open with ID High Tech, the entity responsible for the group’s future growth engines.
“Good afternoon, Chairman.”
“Good afternoon to you as well, Dr. Shailov. I trust you’ve been well?”
Dr. Shailov, director of the ID High Tech Research Institute, had emerged from the laboratory for the first time in a long while. The High Tech Research Institute was located in Redmond, where the Android headquarters stood, and Dr. Shailov had remained there ever since arriving from Russia, rarely venturing out. Though it resembled voluntary exile, the reality was that the abundant support had allowed him to conduct experiments and use equipment he had only dreamed of before, leaving him absorbed in his work. Consequently, even after several years in the United States, his speech still carried a distinct Russian accent.
Dr. Shailov had brought several executive-level researchers from the institute, so Jae-won took a moment to shake hands with them as well. The atmosphere was not awkward. Everyone employed in research positions at the High Tech Research Institute had met Jae-won at least once during the hiring process, so they were all familiar faces.
Once the greetings concluded, the settlement presentation began immediately.
“We will now begin the 1994 year-end settlement report for the ID High Tech Research Institute.”
The presenter was Senior Researcher Kaspersky, who specialized in advanced computer security technology at the institute. Like Remington, he had been with the High Tech Research Institute since its inception. Among the institute’s scholars he was the youngest, yet also the foremost expert on computers. Moreover, his English was excellent, making him the natural choice as presenter.
A large projector screen lit up, displaying the table of contents for today’s report. The outline was straightforward: it summarized the research conducted at the ID High Tech Research Institute thus far, the current status of results, and the studies planned for the future. Notably, there was almost no mention of budget. In most other companies, that would have been the very first item. Given the enormous sums poured into R&D, ordinary corporations expected quick returns and therefore provided little support for basic research, concentrating instead on applied research directly tied to profit. Jae-won, however, understood the importance of R&D better than anyone and had made substantial investments in the High Tech Research Institute. From the moment the institute was founded, he had never once instructed it to generate revenue. It had also been Jae-won who directed that the settlement report focus on research projects rather than financial matters.
The projects underway at ID High Tech were remarkably broad in scope. They ranged from the advanced security technologies handled by presenter Kaspersky himself, to the design of various mobile devices, drones, rockets, optical technology, image-processing technology, and even nuclear physics—Dr. Shailov’s specialty as institute director. Anyone who viewed the ID Group merely as an IT company would have been baffled by the sheer variety of fields. Most items still carried the note “research in progress.” That was only natural; new rocket engines or efficient smart reactors could not be produced overnight. Yet not every project remained a question mark.
“Among this year’s notable achievements is our drone research.”
The drone unveiled at last year’s Daejeon Expo had created quite a sensation. Once the expo ended, however, the drone faded from public consciousness, for it had not yet reached a stage suitable for everyday use. Research had continued steadily afterward, and the accumulated results now appeared substantial. The single topic of drones occupied fully one-third of the entire year-end settlement report for the High Tech Research Institute. Moreover, the section was not padded with meaningless content; the confident expressions of Dr. Shailov and the other institute executives attested to that.
“Oh? Then please begin with the drone research.”
At Jae-won’s words, Kaspersky flipped to the next slide without hesitation. A model far smaller and more refined than the one shown at the expo appeared on screen. Its designation, MK3, suggested it was the third improved version. Accompanying text also appeared, containing several terms that immediately piqued Jae-won’s curiosity: CIA and FBI were expected, but the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency and other unfamiliar organizations appeared as well, along with a distinctly Jewish-sounding name—Amnon Shashua. Though an explanation would surely follow if he waited, Jae-won’s eyes darted rapidly across the text, his curiosity already ignited.