Steve Jobs at the Millennium's Edge
Steve Jobs at the end of the century. He was the founder of Apple, the man who had created the Apple computer—a machine utterly unlike the IBM-compatible PCs—and sparked the microcomputer boom. Yet his ambitious Apple III project, far ahead of its time, had ended in total failure. The Lisa project that followed became the final nail in the coffin, resulting in his ouster from the very company he had built. In most corporations, even the gravest mistakes rarely lead to a founder being expelled, but Steve Jobs was different. The truth was that Jobs, who had pushed reckless projects, had called for a board vote intending to oust John Sculley, the outside professional manager with whom he clashed constantly. Instead, the vote had backfired, and he himself was removed. That single episode revealed just how self-centered his thinking truly was. It also showed that he was someone who either could not—or would not—read the room.
Even after being driven out of Apple, Jobs did not abandon the computer industry. Obsessed with building a workstation featuring the GUI interface that had originated with the Apple III and Lisa projects, he founded NeXT. He also established Pixar, a computer graphics studio. NeXT never truly shone, overshadowed by ID Group’s Egg PC. Pixar, however, achieved notable success in Hollywood by producing Toy Story, the world’s first full-CG feature film and an enduring masterpiece. Blending technical perfection with an emotionally resonant story, Toy Story became a global box-office phenomenon. That triumph allowed Jobs to return to Apple. The company, adrift without its founder, had continued its decline as though trapped in an inescapable swamp. ID Group’s Egg series, with a level of refinement never seen in IBM-compatible PCs, had dealt Apple a devastating blow. Furthermore, when Yoo Jae-won boldly replaced the DOS operating system—the very symbol of IBM-compatible PCs—with Android OS, even the once-clunky IBM machines surpassed Apple in polish and completeness.
Apple, teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, urgently recalled its founder as a savior. Considerable time had passed since then. When Jobs first returned, he had brimmed with confidence. Though NeXT had failed, his success at Pixar had filled his mind with countless ideas for innovation across computers and the broader IT sector. He believed that simply bringing those ideas to life would secure Apple’s second leap forward. Reality, however, proved far harsher. Unexpected setbacks kept occurring, and his rival’s lead only grew more formidable.
“Damn it. Is this what you call a report?”
By now, Steve Jobs raising his voice in the conference room had become routine. He slammed his palm against the table hard enough to produce a sharp crack. Still seething, he shot to his feet and began pacing the room. The Apple engineers seated around the table watched him with uneasy eyes. The report that had once again plunged the once-optimistic Jobs into anxiety and frustration was the reverse-engineering analysis of the recently launched Livepod.
The moment Livepod appeared, Apple and every other electronics firm in Silicon Valley had hired professional line-standers to secure units and begin disassembly. The reactions were nearly identical: shock. “A technology gap of up to four years? That can’t be right.”
The line that shocked Jobs most was the one he now refused to believe. Officially, the purpose of reverse engineering was to check for license violations—specifically, whether any of Apple’s patents had been used without permission. To that end, engineers even opened the high-density semiconductor packaging and examined the logic circuits under electron microscopes. Apple’s own examination of Livepod’s components had begun under the same pretext, while simultaneously gauging the technological sophistication of its parts. The conclusion was staggering: Livepod’s components were approximately four years ahead of anything Apple currently possessed.
Jobs, who had instructed his team to place the most critical findings at the front of the report for efficiency, felt a surge of uncontrollable rage the instant he turned the first page and saw the four-year gap. He paced the empty space in the conference room until he managed to suppress his anger, then returned to his seat.
“Explain it to me.”
His tone was now calm enough to receive a proper explanation. The engineer in charge of the reverse engineering spoke cautiously.
“Livepod’s four key components are the MAP processor, the 2.2-inch color LCD module, the flash memory storage, and the lithium battery. All four are estimated to be roughly four years ahead of the industry standard.”
Steve Jobs remained silent at the chief engineer’s report. He had already anticipated as much. Having nearly completed his own iPod MP3 player, he could tell at a glance that the technology packed into Livepod was extraordinary.
“At our current level, the only areas where we might still compete are the processor and storage.”
Jobs nodded at that assessment. One of the first ambitious projects he had launched upon returning to Apple was the founding of ARM, a fabless semiconductor company specializing in low-power CPUs for system platforms and SoCs. Unable to undertake such a massive endeavor alone, Apple had brought in VLSI and Acorn to form a joint venture. Remarkably, the MAP processor bore a striking resemblance to the low-power CPU architecture ARM was developing. Jobs had briefly wondered whether the technology had been stolen, but that was not the case. MAP prioritized performance, whereas ARM focused on extreme power efficiency.
Storage was another area where Apple had secured an advantage: the iPod would exclusively use IBM’s ultra-compact hard disk drive. Though mechanically identical to a conventional hard drive, it was an extremely small, specialized unit with a capacity of five gigabytes—an enormous advantage compared to Livepod’s 256-megabyte flash memory. While Livepod advertised storage for one hundred songs using the AAC codec, the iPod could hold a thousand MP3 files. The real problems, however, lay elsewhere.
Though Jobs had no intention of adding gaming features to the iPod, the color LCD was genuinely tempting. An interface capable of displaying album art and other rich visuals was undeniably appealing. Yet the only company in the world producing such a small, high-resolution color LCD module was ID Display. While other electronics firms had begun investing in LCD technology, they were still merely breaking ground on new factories. ID Display, by contrast, had already reached the point of manufacturing 27-inch LCD monitors.
“Have we heard anything from Ilseong or Sharp or Kumseong yet?”
Only after receiving the report on the LCD module did Jobs recall the inquiry he had ordered several days earlier regarding the availability and supply of small color LCD modules.
“Well, Ilseong Electronics has gone bankrupt. Both its semiconductor and LCD plants were acquired by ID Group. Sharp has signed a joint LCD technology development agreement with ID Display. Kumseong claims it can produce the modules, but the specifications fall far short of requirements.”
Jobs, usually too absorbed in company matters to follow outside news, was visibly startled to learn of Ilseong’s collapse. The subsequent mention of Sharp only deepened his displeasure. A compact yet high-resolution color LCD module was an incredibly desirable component, yet it was monopolized by ID. And then there was the True Cinema Display—an innovation unlike anything he had ever seen in a display device. It was not without drawbacks: it could only be used with iWorks and required a special digital cable called DisplayPort. Still, its image quality and vast resolution more than justified the limitations.
“That kid always operates this way.”
The face of a young man surfaced in Jobs’ mind—Yoo Jae-won, chairman of ID Group. Observing ID Group’s pattern of technological advancement was enough to send chills down his spine. Before releasing any major product, the company systematically swept up every related technology, as though preparing the battlefield in advance of war.
“What about the battery?”
“Unfortunately, the same situation applies.”
Even with a high-performance mobile processor and color LCD installed, Livepod delivered eight hours of playback—thanks to its lithium battery. The simpler iPod would enjoy even longer continuous playback. Yet among manufacturers capable of mass-producing lithium batteries, only Japan’s Sanyo stood out, and it too had fallen under Yoo Jae-won’s influence. Countless other companies now belonged to him as well. What had once seemed like meaningless investments now revealed themselves as components of an immense synergistic effect.
Naturally, Livepod’s initial shipment had sold out completely, with rumors of substantial pre-orders. At this pace, the brief golden age of CDs—which had only just displaced cassette tapes—would prove fleeting. The twenty-first century would belong to digital music.
“We can’t keep following forever.”
For Steve Jobs, the thought was intolerable. Yet a sliver of possibility remained. He had watched the recently concluded IDDC 98 in stunned silence—an overwhelming showcase from Timeflix to Next Music and Livepod. Days later, however, he had spotted a narrow opening.
“How is iTunes coming along?”
“Smoothly. We’ve reached version 0.9.365, and there are almost no bug reports. We should be able to launch it alongside the iPod.”
Jobs nodded at the one positive update. The gap he had identified was the absence of a proper music-management program. Managing a few downloaded tracks was feasible, but handling thousands or tens of thousands of songs manually was impossible. iTunes would solve that. It could also automatically rip existing CDs into a digital library, matching artist names, album titles, and track information through a database without manual entry. The synchronization feature, born from Jobs’ own vision, would make file management between device and computer far more convenient. Since he also planned to establish a legitimate music distribution service through iTunes, he intended to approach Universal Music, PolyGram, and Sony Music to secure content deals. With this, even if the premium segment proved difficult, the mass-market segment might still be contestable.
Yet the moment the thought “premium is impossible” crossed his mind, Jobs stopped himself. Such a notion was an affront to Apple’s reputation. Apple had always been a company that delivered only the highest performance and the finest user experience—and charged accordingly. The phrase “cost-effective mass-market” had never belonged in Apple’s vocabulary. Given the circumstances, however, competing against Livepod would force them to shoulder that very burden. Even the master of presentation that was Steve Jobs could see at a glance which product was the premium offering when Livepod and iPod were placed side by side.
“Next time, without fail.”
Jobs believed the true battle lay ahead. There existed an item far larger than the iPod—something that would exert an enormous influence on the world. Though it existed only in his mind for now, his eyes burned with fierce determination. He would not let this one slip away.
Only a few days had passed since the triumphant conclusion of IDDC 98, yet September had already arrived. Much had happened in the interim. For Yoo Jae-won, the most significant development was the aggressive acquisition of Japanese companies—so extensive that some were calling it a second Japanese invasion. Although Japan had not reached the point of requesting IMF bailout funds, the economic damage was severe enough to produce numerous distressed assets at bargain prices. Many of the companies on the acquisition list were also vulnerable to hostile takeovers, making them attainable. Once again, Shin-Nihon Investment Bank acted as Yoo Jae-won’s proxy. The notable difference this time was the active pursuit of cultural content such as manga and characters. The plan was to secure at least one of Japan’s three major publishing houses through the bank. Certain media outlets, particularly in Korea, framed the acquisitions as a wealthy man who had grown up reading Japanese comics now squandering money—some even using harsher terms—on his hobbies. Yoo Jae-won dismissed such petty criticisms with clean indifference. After all, certain Korean outlets like Daehan Ilbo were already being watched for the right moment to be dealt with decisively.
The biggest story in the United States was the Clinton hearings. Although the new products announced at IDDC 98 continued to sell well, public attention had been captured by Clinton’s sex scandal. During the hearings, the phrase “inappropriate relationship” had surfaced and become a major topic. Fortunately, the matter had not escalated to impeachment. While admitting the scandal had damaged his presidential dignity, Clinton had managed to escape the lying controversy and retain his office. To restore his lost authority, Clinton turned to foreign policy. When meeting foreign leaders, his presidential prestige was unmistakably restored. Naturally, the country that received the most attention during Clinton’s diplomatic efforts was Korea. Discussions regarding a declaration ending the war with North Korea gained rapid momentum, leading to a summit between the leaders of North Korea and the United States. The process moved swiftly toward the declaration itself. The venue was Panmunjom, the symbolic site of the Korean division. There, President Jeon Myeong-heon, President Clinton of the United States, and North Korean National Defense Commission Chairman Kim Jong-il jointly declared that the armistice agreement had been concluded as a peace treaty. The next step would be a formal peace agreement, though its pace would be adjusted according to North Korea’s constructive attitude.
The following day, at the Cheong Wa Dae press briefing room, Jeon Myeong-heon acknowledged the reality of the Korean division and announced the need for a new constitution that would pursue unification on that basis, eliminate the remnants of dictatorship, and prepare Korea for the twenty-first century. The constitutional amendment that had previously circulated only as rumor in Yeouido was now officially mentioned, and the resulting shockwaves were immense. It was the beginning of the end-of-century roller coaster.