The Calm Before the Storm
The 7th Republic, D-6. The harbinger of a massive typhoon is a clear sky. Korea's situation was much the same. Until yesterday, news had poured out in an endless torrent, overwhelming even the Korean public. The nightclub drug scandal alone had dragged in a string of connected figures like dried fish on a line, and the entertainment industry had fallen into stunned silence. Events had already dwindled due to the IMF crisis, and the plagiarism scandal had left the scene in a bitter chill. Now, with the drug scandal erupting on top of everything, the 1998 entertainment world felt like a house in mourning.
The police were being shaken down thoroughly as well. The Gangnam Police Station chief and frontline officers with deep ties to the DH Hotel had become targets of the Gongsucheo investigation. They were naturally stripped of their posts, and arrest warrants were being issued one after another depending on the charges. The Gongsucheo still had a vacant director position and several unfilled posts. Its official launch had originally been slated for January of the following year. Even so, the investigative apparatus was fully operational and could handle the current case directly.
In truth, the vacant Gongsucheo director post was one of President Jeon Myeong-heon's maneuvers. The director had to be an impartial figure acceptable to both the ruling and opposition parties, since the appointment required a majority vote in the National Assembly. While the coalition with the Democratic Party allowed the opposition's input to be neutralized, the coalition partner itself still had to be considered. Under the pretext of thorough vetting that took the Democratic Party's inclinations into account, the director's appointment had been postponed until the end of December, leaving the practical appointments to the deputy director.
The deputy director was, of course, a bold and decisive figure who matched Jeon Myeong-heon's temperament. While the director's seat remained empty, the deputy handled various approval matters by obtaining the president's authorization in the director's stead. Naturally, the Gongsucheo was being filled with aggressive and unrestrained personnel who suited Jeon Myeong-heon's tastes. That effect was now being felt directly in the DH Hotel nightclub investigation.
Unlike the police or prosecutors, the Gongsucheo could legally hold interim briefings. At each briefing, the police commissioner and even the prosecutors openly stated that the scope of the investigation could expand. Korea had been in an uproar for some time, but starting yesterday, the flood of new headlines had suddenly stopped. The Daehan Ilbo, which had been busily constructing right-wing frames, was now scrambling to defend itself. The opposition parties, usually eager to raise their voices, were busy keeping their members in line against President Jeon Myeong-heon's temptations and could no longer make as much noise as before. This created an unusual phenomenon.
Because of this, anyone in Korea could sense that something unimaginably large was about to happen soon. It would clearly be the aftermath of the constitutional amendment bill passing or failing. While Korea remained in this calm before the storm, Yoo Jae-won was doing something he had not done in a long time. He had completed an enhanced version of the media player supporting the Livepod and begun distributing it through the Android update program.
When uploaded to the Android operating system's update program, any Android user connected to the internet would automatically receive an alert. Users could accept the installation if they wished or cancel if they had no interest. Unlike the old Microsoft approach of forcing updates, users could choose according to their own preferences. Emergency security patches were mandatory, but there had never been a single instance of one being sent so far.
Despite the enormous user base attracting concentrated hacker attacks, Android's security system remained solid. There had been reports of some users' security zones being breached, but those were extremely rare cases involving leaked initialization passwords or users who had personally disabled security programs and then executed virus-laden software. Thanks to this, trust in Android Corporation and in Yoo Jae-won himself remained unshaken.
Perhaps because of that, downloads surged the moment the media player Livepod version was released. It surpassed one million downloads within an hour and continued climbing rapidly. It crossed two million before even a full day had passed.
"Ah, if only the Livepod itself had sold this many units."
Even the next day, as the cumulative download count kept rising in real time, Yoo Jae-won could not help but exclaim. The remark implied that Livepod sales had not lived up to his expectations.
The Livepod had received excellent reviews from all computer media outlets and even from specialist magazines covering high-end audio equipment. Only magazines that rejected digital formats in favor of analog sensibilities offered some criticism; the rest were full of praise. Direct purchaser reviews were equally positive. The hardware's completeness, the software support, and above all the sound quality that mattered most in audio devices—all earned high marks. The sole drawback was its high price.
Yoo Jae-won had set the Livepod's price close to cost. As an IT company, he had accepted a margin of less than ten percent, the kind usually seen in heavy industry. Yet consumers still complained that it was expensive. The problem was especially glaring when compared to Apple's iPod: the capacity was only one-twentieth, yet the price was similar. However, once people actually purchased and used the devices, Livepod owners gave glowing reviews while iPod owners voiced complaints. The iPod's biggest weakness was its closed platform, whereas the Livepod was the complete opposite. Moreover, its large color LCD allowed users to view images and e-books. Recently, an application store had been added, enabling simple games as well.
Classic titles like Tetris and the puzzle game VisualD were enjoying massive hits, and numerous amateur developers were knocking on the application store's door.
"Hmm, I wonder when some decent games will come out. If something does appear, I hope it's that slingshot game."
The slingshot game Yoo Jae-won referred to was Angry Birds, the title that had proven mobile games could succeed. He believed the Livepod's M-AP performance and memory capacity were sufficient to run a game like Angry Birds. Of course, the graphics and frame rate would be downgraded compared to the original, and extreme optimization would be required, but the core fun could still be delivered.
The issue was that for such games to appear and become hits, the Livepod itself needed to sell in large numbers. Several months after launch, sales had yet to exceed two million units. Apple's iPod sales were far lower. Although Apple had made no official announcement, estimates suggested it had not yet reached one million units. The only areas where the iPod was considered superior were its larger storage capacity and iTunes. iTunes, Apple's digital music distribution channel that also managed the iPod, offered solid functionality for organizing digital music libraries. But that story, too, would become outdated the moment the media player Livepod version was announced today.
The library function had been elevated to 21st-century standards, and high-speed CD ripping along with automatic tagging had been added. Integration with the Livepod was flawless.
"Jae-won, what do you mean by 'that game'?"
Yoo Jae-won jumped in surprise. Turning around, he saw Tiffany standing there in a tailored suit, staring at him.
"Huh? When did you get here?"
"Three minutes ago?"
He had let his guard down. Focused on the monitor, he had not noticed her arrival. Moreover, Tiffany had become like family, so his vigilance had naturally relaxed. At least he had not spoken the name "Angry Birds" out loud.
"Ah, the game. I was hoping more games would come out for the Livepod, but nothing really stands out yet."
Thanks to that, Yoo Jae-won managed to escape the situation with a simple excuse.
"Games? Games are good."
Tiffany nodded in agreement. Most girlfriends did not particularly enjoy seeing their boyfriends absorbed in games, but Tiffany was different. She enjoyed playing games herself and also liked watching others play.
"Thanks to the Livepod, plane rides are no longer boring. Plus, the music you put in is the best. If games were added too, I wouldn't want for anything else."
Tiffany continued praising the Livepod enthusiastically. As she said, she rarely let go of the Livepod while traveling. Except for brief moments when it needed charging, it was always in her pocket or handbag. Yet a shadow still lingered on her face.
"By the way, how was your business trip? The results don't look great."
Yoo Jae-won was not the type to miss such signs or suppress his curiosity, so he asked directly.
"Yeah."
Tiffany had worn the suit not for an outing but because she had just returned from her trip. She had come back from Texas, where she had been commuting as if punching a time clock for the past few weeks. She took off her jacket and sat down beside Yoo Jae-won.
"I don't think I need to go anymore."
Her lips pouted slightly—a sign that something had displeased her. Yoo Jae-won found Tiffany's transparent display of emotion endearing.
"Mitchell's hydraulic fracturing method still isn't profitable."
As expected, Tiffany answered his question immediately. The reason she had kept commuting to Texas was to verify a method for horizontal development of oil wells—hydraulic fracturing. It was not an entirely new technique; hydraulic fracturing had been used commercially since the 1950s. However, someone had modernized the traditional method: George Mitchell.
It was only natural that Tiffany, having picked up hints from Yoo Jae-won, would hear about George Mitchell. The man was an eccentric who had spent six million dollars of his own money drilling over ten thousand wells across the United States in an effort to develop shale gas and oil. When Tiffany asked local Chevron managers or oil industry contacts in Texas, they all mentioned George Mitchell first. She had contacted him directly and made several trips to observe his technology demonstrations. Now the results were in.
"Not profitable? How much?"
"Over seventy dollars per barrel! And that's from wells whose quality and structure were most suited to hydraulic fracturing. In worse conditions, it easily goes to eighty or ninety dollars."
Tiffany brushed her hands together as if washing them of the matter. She had every reason to. Current oil prices stood at ten dollars per barrel. They had been twelve or thirteen dollars during the summer, but whether due to a slowing global economy or increased crude production from Middle Eastern countries, prices had fallen into the ten-dollar range. Judging by the rate of decline, ten dollars seemed likely to collapse soon, entering the nine-dollar range.
Thanks to this, Korea had been able to avoid many of the side effects of the won's sharp depreciation. If oil prices had risen alongside the IMF crisis, it would have been hell. It was fortunate that prices had not only fallen but crashed through the floor. Yet oil prices would not remain this cheap forever. According to the price trajectory Yoo Jae-won knew, they would begin a sharp rise starting next year. By next summer they would exceed twenty dollars, and when winter arrived in the Northern Hemisphere and oil consumption surged, they would surpass thirty dollars.
Even thirty dollars would still be an extremely low price. After making a fortune in IT and then amassing enormous wealth through subprime mortgages, Wall Street would seek new investment destinations—namely, the commodities market. Speculative funds pouring into gold, grain, and crude oil would drive prices to dizzying heights. A barrel would easily exceed one hundred dollars and even reach 150 or 160 dollars. At that point, the seventy-dollar-per-barrel development cost Tiffany had confirmed for shale gas and shale oil would become economically viable.
In reality, once prices skyrocketed, shale development in the United States would begin in earnest, sending shockwaves through global geopolitics. In an era when stable crude supplies from the Middle East were essential to U.S. security, America had needed to protect vast oceans. But with the advancement of shale gas and oil technology, domestic production would exceed consumption, eliminating the need to shoulder that burden alone. Though it had not happened yet, it would occur within ten years.
"So you just said goodbye?"
"No. I've learned a thing or two from watching you. I couldn't just walk away. I invested six million dollars and became a fifty-fifty partner with Mr. Mitchell."
Tiffany was, after all, a true Chevron bloodline. Even after securing a contract to sell all oil from Texas Well No. 23 to Chevron, six million dollars was still a substantial sum. Boldly betting on future predictions was not something just anyone could do.
Seeing Tiffany's expression that seemed to say "I did well, didn't I?", Yoo Jae-won patted her head affectionately and told her she had done well. It was a warm moment. But it did not last long. Like lovers whose passion ignited instantly, the warm atmosphere quickly turned heated. It was a good time. The pity was that such days could not last forever.
As time passed, the distant forecast of the typhoon drew closer, its dark clouds entering visible range. With the vote roughly three days away, the once-calm political scene in Yeouido began to stir. It started as a rumor passed from mouth to mouth: President Jeon Myeong-heon was attempting to trade the illegality of 1997 election funds for cooperation on the constitutional amendment bill. The intent of those spreading the rumor was clear—they wanted to ruin a done deal and even set it on fire. It was the final desperate struggle of those who could only survive by blocking it at all costs.
Originally, the story should have been splashed across the front page of the Daehan Ilbo. But with the police, prosecutors, and even the National Tax Service targeting the owner's family, they could not afford to publish such a sensitive article. As a result, it never became a published story and circulated only as rumor.
Yet the Yeouido rumor was buried by even bigger news before its substance could be verified. President Jeon Myeong-heon had collapsed from exhaustion during a summit meeting with opposition leaders at the Blue House guest house while seeking cooperation on the constitutional amendment vote. The scene had been broadcast live on television. Even other networks running regular programming had to issue urgent breaking news.
While Korea descended into chaos, Yoo Jae-won in San Francisco watched the scene unfold on CNN's breaking news. His reaction, however, differed from that of ordinary viewers.
"This is the third time now, isn't it?"
Counting this incident, it was already the third time the president had collapsed during a crisis. Even if 20th-century people were somewhat naive, he doubted anyone would accept the same excuse three times. Instead, his first concern was whether repeatedly collapsing during crises might provoke a backlash.