IDDC 98: The Revolution Unfolds

The phrase “end-of-century IDDC 98” simply meant the ID Group Developer Conference scheduled for 1998. “Oh, so it’s finally a solo presentation.” Yoo Jae-won felt a quiet surge of emotion as he stood at the entrance of Silicon Valley’s largest convention center, gazing up at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the massive banner. The big day was August 1st, still a few days away, yet the realization that they had finally reached this point washed over him.

Long ago, when ID Group’s only affiliate had been ID Technology, the company had turned to Comdex to showcase new products. No other computer-industry exhibition matched Comdex in scale or impact, and the response had always been excellent, so the company had continued attending ever since. The only difference now was that the person in charge of preparing for Comdex within ID Group had been downgraded from development-team-leader level. The reason was IDDC. As the name implied, it was ID Group’s own independent conference. The conglomerate had grown large enough to stage major product launches on its own and confident enough to draw the necessary audience. Tickets for the first event were free, but from the second year onward they would be paid. Demand had already proven that strong.

Nextcomm had placed IDDC as its main banner announcement, and a dedicated IDDC website had gone live. Tickets were distributed through that site. After filling out the registration form, applicants received a printable QR code that served as their ticket. The Silicon Valley convention center could host the three-day event and accommodate tens of thousands of visitors per day. To avoid overcrowding, organizers had deliberately issued fewer tickets than maximum capacity. Even so, the allocation sold out almost instantly.

Some attendees were unfamiliar with QR codes, so short video clips and web-page instructions explained how to use them. Visitors simply brought the printed code; at the entrance, scanners verified it and exchanged it for a wristband ticket. The technology itself had been invented in 1994 by Japan’s Denso Wave, which had chosen not to enforce the patent, allowing anyone to use it freely.

“Chairman! This way, please.”

Remington hurried out to guide Yoo Jae-won the moment he arrived. Today’s star was unmistakably Time Warner Nextcomm, so Remington had handled everything from decorating the hall to preparing the presentation. Other affiliates’ products would also be on display, which was why ID Technology’s Allen was already on site. The two veterans working together again had kept preparations for the enormous event smooth and trouble-free.

“This is where you exchange the QR code for a wristband ticket.”

Yoo Jae-won followed the ordinary-visitor route to inspect the process. “Yes, here you are.” Though it was only a formality, he presented the QR code he had brought. Remington looked slightly surprised; he had not expected the chairman to arrive with one. Fortunately the system was already running. The scanner read the code, displayed PASS, and showed Yoo Jae-won’s basic personal information, including his title as Chairman of ID Group.

“VIP wristbands are sky-mint.”

There were four colors of wristband tickets. White was the standard pass; blue, red, and the highest tier—sky-mint—offered progressively greater access. Different colors limited movement within the venue and slightly altered the services provided, though the differences were not extreme. Even the basic white ticket included complimentary drinks, snacks, and hamburgers, and granted entry to most experiential booths. Only B2B product areas and business-meeting zones were restricted.

“Hmm.”

Yoo Jae-won spent nearly the entire day inspecting the IDDC 98 venue. He examined every visible detail of the interior and each booth with meticulous care, offering feedback wherever needed. The main-stage area received the most attention. Although the dominance of the Android operating system had rendered such incidents obsolete, there had once been a time when Microsoft Windows ruled the PC world. During the Windows 98 launch, Bill Gates had demonstrated the plug-and-play feature only for the system to crash into the infamous blue screen of death. The master showman had recovered without missing a beat, yet the moment had been immortalized online.

“Boss, is there anything still lacking?”

Remington reacted instantly to Yoo Jae-won’s thoughtful hum. He had stayed alert throughout the walkthrough. Numerous corrections had already been noted—from the dining areas to the experience zones and the main stage. Yoo Jae-won’s observations were never mere personal taste; they were the kind of practical insights only someone experienced with large-scale events could spot. He had not overlooked sensitive matters such as religious symbols on banners or the need ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for halal and vegetarian menu options.

In truth, Yoo Jae-won sometimes wondered whether such meticulousness was truly necessary. From a business standpoint, however, preventing unnecessary controversy was always wiser than risking offense. After finishing the main-stage inspection, he finally spoke.

“No, it’s clear you poured enormous effort into the main stage. The large projector screen is crisp, the lighting is perfect, and the sound system carries clearly to the very back without any hum.”

The only lingering concern was Yoo Jae-won himself. For some reason his heart felt slightly unsettled. In the past, when he had stood on the Comdex stage to unveil the Egg PC or the Android operating system, he had been utterly fearless. This time the feeling was different. Hosting IDDC 98 alone and introducing a wide array of services and new products carried a distinct weight.

“This should be sufficient.”

He believed that when the day arrived, confidence would return as naturally as breathing.

August 1, 1998. Saturday.

Yoo Jae-won rose early and followed his usual routine. He exercised briefly in the home fitness room, showered in cold water, and ate a simple breakfast. The menu was hearty doenjang-guk. Although it was a basic Korean staple, Tiffany had personally prepared it on her day off, making the meal feel special and taste even better. When they had first begun dating, Tiffany had known nothing about Korean cuisine; now she cooked it better than most Korean restaurants in America. Yoo Jae-won, in turn, could whip up several of her favorite dishes with ease.

Given his wealth, he could have hired a private chef every day—and he usually did—but whenever Tiffany visited, he preferred to cook for her himself. He suspected she had inherited that instinct from her mother, Lady Marina Pink, whose culinary skills were television-chef caliber. More than anything, he simply enjoyed the feeling of Tiffany preparing a meal just for him.

After breakfast he moved to the study and checked the overnight news—not on paper, but through Nextcomm’s news pages and the clippings his secretaries had gathered in ID Talk’s message box.

The first items he saw concerned the end-of-war declaration that had gained momentum through his own efforts. At the recent Korea-U.S. summit, President Jeon Myeong-heon had conveyed a joint proposal to President Clinton. Clinton had responded with several conditions, returning the ball to North Korea. Prime Minister Kim Dae-jung had carried Clinton’s letter to Pyongyang. Although the unification minister could have gone, the gravity of the matter had warranted sending the prime minister himself. Nearly a month had passed since that visit, and just yesterday North Korea had delivered its reply—though conditions remained attached.

“Defense Commission Chairman Kim Jong-il: If it serves peace on the Korean Peninsula, I can make the declaration a hundred times.”

The phrase “peace regime on the Korean Peninsula” sounded benign, yet it carried implications regarding U.S. forces stationed in South Korea. North Korea excelled at embedding contentious meanings inside seemingly positive language. Still, the core issue was negotiable. Once the broad framework was agreed upon, details could be settled later. Not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠everyone was willing to overlook the point, however. Members of the Democratic Korea Party—the most conservative faction in Korean politics—immediately voiced strong opposition. Their survival depended on maintaining extreme confrontation with the North.

“End-of-War Declaration with North Korea Hides Ambition for Constitutional Revision!”

“Unification, the National Task, Must Not Be Compromised by Political Deals!”

Surprisingly, the Democratic Korea Party had already read President Jeon’s larger design and raised the issue of constitutional revision. The roadmap Yoo Jae-won had drawn—end-of-war declaration followed by constitutional reform—was the most critical gateway to a new Korea in the twenty-first century. While public attention remained fixed on the declaration itself, few were listening to the sudden talk of constitutional change. Yet once the declaration was signed and reform began, that early positioning could still create complications.

“No matter what they do, the great wheel of history has already begun to turn.”

Even if a mantis tried to block the wheel with its own courage, the wheel would roll forward in silence. Those who failed to understand that would simply be crushed beneath it.

“What’s so amusing?”

Tiffany sat down beside him as he clicked his tongue at the screen. Her hands were still slightly damp from finishing the kitchen cleanup.

“People spouting nonsense without realizing the times have changed.”

He gave her a brief explanation of the Korean political situation. To Tiffany, Korea was simply her husband’s homeland, and that alone made it worth her attention—second only to the United States. She had shown consistent interest, so the short summary was enough for her to grasp the current dynamics.

“All right, you’ve seen enough news for now?”

“Hm? Yes.”

“Then it’s time to go!”

Having heard everything, Tiffany tugged him away. Yoo Jae-won shut down the computer without protest and stood. Today was the day of reckoning. Although the official program began in the afternoon, the host and his wife had a full schedule ahead—styling, rehearsals, and more. Their day would start in earnest at eight in the morning. For the next three days, while IDDC 98 ran, they would be relentlessly busy.

“You’re ready, sir. We can depart whenever you are.”

Outside, Kim Dae-seok was already waiting in perfect readiness. As Yoo Jae-won settled into the car, a fresh wave of tension and excitement made his heart race—something he had not felt inside the house.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Chairman of ID Group, Yoo Jae-won.”

The deep, resonant voice of the announcer introduced him with simple dignity. A single spotlight illuminated the left edge of the darkened main stage, revealing Yoo Jae-won in sneakers, jeans, and a sky-blue sweater. The packed audience erupted in applause and cheers. He raised one hand in acknowledgment and walked toward center stage. A softer light came up there as well, revealing the modest set pieces already in place: an ordinary living-room couch and, opposite it, a standard television set.

“Good evening, everyone. I’m Yoo Jae-won.”

He bowed politely at the waist. After a small, steadying breath, he continued with the audience’s applause still echoing.

“As you all know, the first announcement of IDDC 98 concerns a revolutionary service related to television. Rather than explain it at length, let me show you directly.”

He sat on the couch and looked around as though searching for something.

“I need to turn on the television, but where’s the remote? Ah—Chairman Remington! The stage looks wonderful, but I think you forgot the remote control. Could you bring one over, please?”

When he could not find it, he raised his voice in the exaggerated tone of a stage actor. Another spotlight lit the right edge of the stage. Remington appeared, pushing a cart. The situational skit that had become a signature of Yoo Jae-won’s presentations had returned once more. Light laughter ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rippled through the hall.

IDDC 98 had officially begun.