Ballots and Bots
The 21st-century technopia. “Weren’t you the one who held boundless optimism about information technology, Chairman Yoo? At the recent New Year’s address, you spoke of artificial intelligence and system integration. Besides, I fail to see how refusing electronic voting machines has anything to do with winning the election.” President Clinton continued, his tone laced with skepticism.
Yoo Jae-won and Clinton were partners who shared common interests, so his reaction was nothing like that of a subordinate who simply obeyed orders. Moreover, Clinton’s doubt was entirely reasonable—and it revealed the common preconceptions of the era.
“That’s precisely why I’m saying this. Many people assume IT is always superior and more efficient than existing methods, but that isn’t always the case. Introducing half-baked technology can do more damage by breeding distrust in information technology itself.”
“You’re saying the same applies to electronic voting machines?”
The voting method being discussed for limited pilot use in this election was a touchscreen system. Voters would select a candidate on a computer screen, after which a paper ballot with the punched choice would print out and be deposited into the ballot box. While the end result wasn’t drastically different from the traditional punch-card method, the moment a selection was made on the touchscreen, it was automatically tallied on the election commission’s servers—something touted as convenient for vote counting.
This touchscreen voting system was slated for large-scale deployment in Florida, with trial runs planned in other states.
“Yes. There’s a risk of hacking.”
“Hacking?”
Clinton’s expression shifted at the mention of hacking—especially coming from Yoo Jae-won. The company that manufactured the electronic voting machines had confidently claimed their systems were perfectly secure, but Yoo’s warning carried far greater weight.
“Until truly flawless security technology exists, it would be wise to hold off on the full-scale adoption of electronic voting machines.”
The word “flawless” was not one to be used lightly. Yet many companies threw it around without hesitation—even in security. The firms selected as Android’s security partners boasted of providing perfect systems, but to Yoo Jae-won, their vulnerabilities were glaringly obvious.
A security system worthy of the word “flawless” would require quantum encryption, usable only once quantum computers were introduced. Since building quantum computers was still far in the future, blockchain offered the next-best realistic compromise.
“So if we just watch out for the voting machines, victory is guaranteed?”
Clinton, as expected, cut straight to the core. In the grand scheme, the electronic voting machine issue was secondary. The real key was ensuring Al Gore’s victory in the 2000 election.
“Well, we should also verify that the existing punch-card machines are functioning properly.”
After the election, countless analyses had dissected Al Gore’s defeat. Had it not been for America’s unique Electoral College system, Gore would have won—the popular vote had been his. The next major issue was the Florida recount controversy. An enormous number of invalid ballots had emerged in Florida, with the voting machines themselves being the primary culprit. Votes for Bush registered correctly, but votes for Gore often landed outside the designated spots.
Then there was the deliberate intervention to ignore those invalid ballots. It was as if the Bush camp had known every detail of the situation in advance—they filed a flurry of lawsuits in Florida courts to block any recount. Conservative media poured out muddying articles, and with Florida Governor Jeb Bush exerting his influence, the recount was quietly buried.
That was why Yoo Jae-won had calculated that blocking the rollout of problematic voting machines and keeping a close watch on Jeb Bush would make Al Gore’s victory all but certain.
“If it’s your assurance, I suppose it’s worth believing. I’ll do what I can.”
Clinton accepted the proposal without hesitation. Yoo had come prepared with data in case Clinton demanded specifics, and even a demonstration of the hacking risk if skepticism grew—but things had gone smoothly. Still, Clinton’s cautious “I’ll do what I can” was unavoidable. True to its name as the United States, elections fell under state jurisdiction, so Clinton’s options were limited.
“Let’s make this work.”
With that, Clinton extended his hand. Yoo Jae-won felt a surge of satisfaction at the depth of Clinton’s trust, though it also brought a subtle pressure. Yet his conviction remained unshaken—if Florida was properly monitored, Al Gore would not lose. Smiling, he clasped Clinton’s hand.
The next day, Yoo Jae-won met with Al Gore, who was diligently preparing for the Democratic primaries, and relayed most of his conversation with President Clinton. It wasn’t entirely the same discussion, however—he added several pieces of advice tailored specifically for Gore.
“Don’t neglect your home state of Tennessee.”
Americans, like Koreans, considered losing in one’s home region a matter of shame. Al Gore had done exactly that—underestimating his home state, he lost to Bush and suffered a major embarrassment. Bush had also lost in his birth state of Connecticut, but since the Bush family’s political base was Texas, the damage had been far less severe for him.
“Actively leverage SNS.”
“SNS? You mean TokTok?”
“TokTok is fine, but there are plenty of other platforms. Use whatever works.”
Since TokTok’s launch, numerous similar SNS services had emerged—some blatant copies, others with added features. Of course, TokTok remained the undisputed leader. The first person to systematically utilize SNS in an election had been Obama, whose well-organized campaign headquarters demonstrated an entirely different level of efficiency and played a major role in his victory.
“Lastly, take the initiative on security issues before Bush does.”
As he spoke, Yoo Jae-won presented data compiled from Al Gore-related search terms on Nextcom. The millions of daily search queries pouring into American Nextcom were big data reflecting American trends. Even IT experts of this era hadn’t yet conceived of reprocessing such data into valuable insights—but Yoo Jae-won was different.
The compiled data revealed no weaknesses in Al Gore. Gore was by no means a weak man. He had served honorably in Vietnam, fulfilling his military duty, and his views on national security were sound. Yet somehow, the public perception painted him as soft—almost fragile.
“That’s the first I’ve heard of this.”
Al Gore was surprised by Yoo’s analysis, yet found it refreshing. In Washington D.C., many were already predicting Gore’s victory in the upcoming election, which had drawn seasoned experts to his campaign headquarters. None of them, however, had ever presented an analysis like this.
“Of course. This kind of information is something only I can produce. Try implementing it on a trial basis during the Democratic primaries and evaluate the results. It won’t be a loss, I assure you.”
Yoo Jae-won was uncharacteristically boastful. After all, it was true that such data couldn’t be obtained anywhere else.
“Understood. I’ll make good use of your advice.”
Al Gore nodded gravely, taking Yoo’s words seriously. While the data and advice were appreciated, what mattered most was Yoo Jae-won himself. His support alone all but guaranteed California’s 54 electoral votes—the largest in the nation.
“Good luck.”
“Thank you. After all this tutoring, there’s no way I can lose.”
“Oh, come now—this hardly counts as tutoring. I’ll share the real strategy once we reach the general election.”
After a warm exchange with Al Gore, Yoo Jae-won rose reluctantly, his next appointment awaiting. His destination was Boston, a city in northeastern Massachusetts and one of America’s oldest. Yet it also held a contrasting image as a hub of cutting-edge scientific research, home to world-renowned institutions like Harvard and MIT.
Yoo Jae-won had come to Boston today for a meeting with one of its most advanced companies—Boston Dynamics.
At present, the company had little name recognition, but it would become enormously famous after 2005 with the unveiling of BigDog, a quadrupedal robot with extraordinary mobility. Following BigDog came Cheetah and Petman, and later LS3, an infantry squad support transport system that catapulted the company to stardom. Their artificial robots moved with such natural grace that they triggered the uncanny valley effect—making viewers feel as though they were watching living creatures.
Boston Dynamics’ masterpiece was Atlas. From its first appearance, it was a humanoid robot capable of standing and walking upright on two legs with complete autonomy, without any external support. Each successive version of Atlas grew more refined, eventually sparking a revolution in the android robotics industry.
The reason Yoo Jae-won had come to Boston was to acquire Boston Dynamics, the company that would make such monumental contributions to android robot development. Boston Dynamics would unveil Atlas in the mid-2010s. And that would only be the beginning. Reaching the final version capable of perfectly replacing human labor would take another fifteen years.
But time was on Yoo Jae-won’s side. By acquiring Boston Dynamics now and pouring unlimited time and capital into it, he could drastically accelerate the timeline to Atlas’s final version. Moreover, his mind held a wealth of knowledge related to Atlas. With that, shortening the development by a decade would be trivial.
“Chairman, we’ll be arriving shortly.”
At Kim Dae-seok’s words, Yoo Jae-won emerged from his thoughts. Through the car window, he could see they were approaching Waltham, where Boston Dynamics’ headquarters was located.
The sight of Boston Dynamics’ headquarters was quite different from the image Yoo Jae-won remembered. It looked like an unassuming campus—a single-story building of red brick, stretching long to one side. The green lawn kept it from appearing desolate.
By contrast, the Boston Dynamics headquarters in his memory had been magnificent. After all, what was the value of an android that could perfectly replace human labor? It was immeasurable. That was why the company’s headquarters had been so lavish, as if all the world’s wealth had converged there. Some even compared the towering skyscraper to the Tower of Babel—a challenge to God Himself. Naturally, the comparison carried negative undertones. Labor was sacred, and many believed robots had stolen it away. Movements to destroy android robots had gained significant traction, arguing that their widespread adoption would lead to job losses, leaving the unemployed worse off than slaves in ancient Rome—a 21st-century Luddite movement.
Yet the actual trajectory of android robot adoption had diverged sharply from their predictions. The price of an android robot started at several hundred thousand dollars, making it economically senseless to deploy such expensive machines for simple manual labor. Android robots were first adopted in fields requiring precise posture control—fighter jet pilots, operating rooms, nuclear reactor control rooms, and radioactive waste disposal sites. Dangerous and demanding work, but high-value sectors became the first proving grounds for android robots.
Unfortunately, while Boston Dynamics possessed excellent technical capabilities, its political acumen was lacking, and the company was highly insular. Had they acted swiftly to counter negative public opinion when it spread like wildfire, the 21st-century Luddite movement might never have gained such momentum. Their closed organizational culture also became an obstacle to standardizing android robots. It was telling that when Google acquired them around 2013, the company failed to integrate with other teams and was spun off within three years. The same pattern repeated under SoftBank, which held them for eight years before putting them back on the market. It was almost as if they were perpetual journeymen—and Marc Raibert, the company’s founder, bore much of the responsibility. He refused to compromise with reality or attempt to merge with other organizations. Combined with his exceptional technical prowess, this trait produced remarkable results, but it became a hindrance to the rapid advancement of android robots. The second Luddite movement was no different. Compared to household robots released around the same time by Japanese companies, the resistance against Boston Dynamics was far greater.
Yoo Jae-won’s goal was simple: negotiate with the stubborn Dr. Marc Raibert, secure a stake in the company, and accelerate the deployment of robots. With his resolve firm, he stepped out of the car that had stopped at the main gate. Boston Dynamics’ staff, having received prior notice, were already waiting outside. Among them, Yoo Jae-won’s eyes immediately found Marc Raibert. His kindly face and gleaming bald head made him stand out even at first glance.