The Aftermath
“No! What do you mean Jacob is missing?” Yoo Jae-won rushed home early and hurried over to Tiffany, who had already returned. She looked nothing like her usual bright self.
“I haven’t been able to reach Uncle Jacob since last night.”
“Still nothing?”
“Yeah. His phone’s turned off.”
At Tiffany’s words, Yoo Jae-won opened his Android Phone and tried calling Jacob himself. After a brief ringtone, the call went straight to voicemail, announcing that the recipient’s phone was powered off.
“You told him about my dream too, right?”
“I did.” Tiffany nodded firmly.
“Hmm. There’s something I didn’t mention to you—he didn’t really take my warning seriously.”
This time, Yoo Jae-won nodded at Tiffany’s words. Jacob had always been strangely wary of him. Looking back, the suspicion seemed to have intensified after Yoo Jae-won upgraded the geological data algorithm for Tiffany’s sake and helped locate the Texas Well No. 23. It was no wonder Tiffany had eventually left Chevron to start her own company. Moreover, Jacob’s conduct was far from that of an exemplary heir. While not quite on the level of Korea’s most notorious chaebol third-generation scions, he had grown up with every advantage as the heir to Chevron, one of the world’s largest oil companies. A quick search through the newspaper archives in his memory turned up numerous articles about scandals involving actresses and suspicions of drug addiction. At the same time, there were plenty of pieces about him attending events and positioning himself as Chevron’s next chairman.
That was why Yoo Jae-won had never felt much pressure about marrying Tiffany. Even if they wed, the Chevron inheritance would remain out of reach. Yet now, at this moment, Jacob had vanished. Something felt deeply wrong.
“With everything in chaos right now, he might just be unreachable.”
Though his instincts screamed otherwise, Yoo Jae-won held back from jumping to conclusions. It was still September 11. A massive incident had erupted that morning, and the aftermath was still unfolding. Internet traffic and network connections remained at peak levels, with DDoS attacks continuing unabated. At least the regions covered by Time Warner Nextcom were holding steady. The remaining 45 percent was the problem.
Thanks to North America’s early investment in information superhighways, Yoo Jae-won had secured control of the continent’s backbone networks. However, the internet required more than just backbones; it needed the capillary-like lines reaching into homes and offices. When those last-mile connections were included, Time Warner Nextcom held 55 percent of the market, while the rest was split among competitors ranked two through five. The quality gap between their services and Time Warner Nextcom’s was glaring. Year after year, those lower-ranked firms appeared on America’s list of worst corporations. Their employees were poorly treated, and their service quality suffered accordingly. Customer forums for those companies were flooded with complaints. Time Warner Nextcom received its share of grievances too, but the speed of resolution made all the difference. After Yoo Jae-won overhauled the Nextcom customer service center, issues were resolved within three days at most. Employee treatment was excellent, and the company was always first to adopt the latest equipment—including DDoS defense systems. Yeong-sik had once dismissed the gear as useless, but in the current emergency it proved quite effective. Other ISPs lacking such equipment were in complete disarray.
“Still… I have a bad feeling about this.”
Tiffany felt somewhat reassured by Yoo Jae-won’s words, yet the anxiety lingered. It was understandable. The coordinated 9/11 hijackings were the worst terrorist attack in human history. No one could have imagined passenger planes being flown into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and the U.S. Capitol. Such scenes belonged only in novels. That was why author Tom Clancy’s name kept appearing in the media today—his novel Debt of Honor ended with a Japanese pilot crashing a plane into the Capitol during a presidential inauguration, killing more than half the government’s top officials.
“Today is chaotic. He might not be reachable. Things should calm down tomorrow, and you’ll probably hear from Jacob then.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Tiffany nodded at Yoo Jae-won’s optimistic tone. But 9/11 was not something that could be resolved so easily, and neither was the matter of Jacob.
The next day, the world expressed condolences to the victims and to America while condemning al-Qaeda and Osama bin Laden. The coordinated hijackings were officially named the 9/11 attacks. By morning, the full scope of the damage became clear:
- Collapse of the north tower of the World Trade Center.
- Partial collapse of the Pentagon’s western face, roughly 25 meters.
- Partial collapse of the U.S. Capitol.
- All four hijacked planes destroyed.
Compared with the original 9/11, the loss of life was lower, but the affected area was larger. The plane aimed at the south tower had been intercepted by fighter jets and crashed into the Hudson River. Even so, the south tower had not escaped unscathed. Debris from the collapsing north tower had torn open its northern face, exposing the internal structure. The damage was so severe that controlled demolition might be safer than repair.
Fortunately, the number of missing persons at the World Trade Center remained relatively low. CNN had quickly predicted the collapse, and the on-site commander had ordered an immediate evacuation. A few workers had stubbornly stayed behind to continue searching, but because evacuation took priority, the missing numbered fewer than one thousand. One thousand people still trapped beneath the rubble. Even so, Yoo Jae-won considered the toll greatly reduced—because in the original timeline the south tower had also collapsed, pushing the death toll into the thousands.
The Pentagon reported around fifty fatalities—twice the original number—because the impact had been more direct and caused more structural failures. The partial collapse of the U.S. Capitol was an unprecedented event. While the north tower’s fall was shocking, the symbolic weight of an attack on the Capitol was even greater. Striking the building that represented the people’s will was tantamount to striking the United States itself.
The list of the dead included members of Congress from both the Senate and the House, Democrats and Republicans alike. The seating arrangement in the Capitol did not segregate by party. Yet the majority of victims were not the lawmakers but their staff and aides. The Capitol attack claimed roughly thirty lives—the smallest number of the three sites—but the number did not diminish its significance. The very fact that the seat of democracy had been struck carried enormous destructive power.
Because of this, the backlash that would follow 9/11 far exceeded anything Yoo Jae-won had anticipated. One thing was certain: America’s fury would erupt far more violently and on a much larger scale than before. And Jacob was caught in the middle of it.
Minutes before the official list of Capitol victims was released, a call came from the U.S. government. It was news of Jacob’s death. His body had been found in the office of Texas Senator Kay Bailey Hutchison. A meeting between Chevron’s heir and a Texas senator was hardly unusual—Texas held enormous weight among Chevron’s oil fields. Political support from a senator would smooth business operations, while the senator could count on Chevron’s backing for her own political moves.
When he first heard the news, Yoo Jae-won was stunned. He had never imagined such an outcome. The butterfly effect could turn a wingbeat into a hurricane, yet he had not foreseen this particular chain of events.
Frederick Taylor II departed for Washington, D.C., to retrieve Jacob’s body. Tiffany had already left with him. Yoo Jae-won planned to join them once the funeral arrangements were ready.
“Good heavens… how could this happen?”
After seeing off a grief-stricken Tiffany, Yoo Jae-won returned home and shook his head. He had prepared for 9/11 as best he could. Though his actions had not been especially aggressive, he had done everything within his power. Thanks to that, casualties were significantly lower than in the original timeline. Yet the scale of the backlash would be many times greater than before. Nationally, America’s rage at the attack on the Capitol would be immense. Jacob’s death would likewise throw Chevron’s succession into uncertainty.
“Chairman, it’s time to leave.”
Though he wanted a moment to think, Yoo Jae-won had too much work waiting. At the office, his first priority was ID Investment. He opened a video call with Vincent Greenhill via ID Talk on one monitor and logged into the HTS platform on another.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
The previous day, September 11, the U.S. stock market had closed down 6 percent. Not a single stock, but the entire index. Such a figure was unheard of under normal conditions. Yet to those who understood the market, a 6 percent drop was actually modest. Trading had continued normally even after the World Trade Center was struck and again after the Pentagon was hit. Only when the Capitol came under attack did the exchange finally halt trading. Had the market remained open until the usual closing time, the decline would have been steeper. The early suspension had at least stopped the freefall, but the aftereffects erupted the next day.
“Are the numbers I’m seeing correct?”
The most prominent figure on the HTS screen was the composite index.
“Yes. Down 2,642 points—14.2 percent.”
The index had opened down 10 percent and kept falling, now sitting at minus 14.2 percent. The screen was a sea of blue. Sidecars and circuit breakers had been triggered, yet nothing could halt the slide. On September 10 the Dow Jones Industrial Average had been flirting with the 20,000 mark. It had lost 1,188 points the day before and another 2,642 today. The Nasdaq was down 10.8 percent as well. Naturally, Android Inc.—listed on the Nasdaq—was also drenched in red. Just before 9/11 its market cap had stood at $140 billion; now it was $110 billion. Three hundred billion dollars had vanished in two days. Time Warner Nextcom had fared relatively better, falling only 8 percent, thanks to the proven influence of CNN and its internet media during the crisis. Even an 8 percent drop was extraordinary, but under the circumstances it counted as a strong performance.
Still, the falling stock prices were not Yoo Jae-won’s primary concern.
“Begin liquidating the put positions.”
“Understood, Chairman.”
The put options held for hedging were no longer insurance—they had become the main event. Their returns on the HTS screen reached several thousand percent. In multiples, that was 85.6 times. One hundred million dollars had become 8.56 billion. Even more astonishing was the fact that dozens of other put options registered on the exchange had posted even higher returns. Such profits were possible only because of an event like 9/11.
A few minutes after Yoo Jae-won gave the order, Vincent Greenhill’s heavy voice came through the line.
“Completed.”
Eight and a half billion dollars’ worth of options had vanished from the order book in an instant, a stark illustration of how irrationally the American market was behaving.
“Shall we proceed with the second phase?”
“Yes. Keep one billion dollars in reserve and use the rest to buy the stocks we selected earlier. Pick up some call options as well.”
None of America’s systems had actually collapsed because of 9/11, yet global markets were selling as though the world were ending. Once rationality returned, the losses would recover. Yoo Jae-won therefore instructed Vincent to purchase the companies and call options he had already marked. The one billion dollars set aside was for the victims. Rather than donating through external channels, he intended to use the ID Foundation to reach survivors directly. The sum was substantial, but since it was windfall profit from the puts, he felt no regret.
After finishing with ID Investment, Yoo Jae-won tried to turn to urgent reports from other subsidiaries, but an unexpected visitor interrupted him.
“Oh? Agent Skinner?”
“You remember my name.”
Years earlier, an FBI agent with an ice-cold expression had come to him for help cracking encrypted evidence from a murder suspect. The man was impossible to forget.
“What brings you here?”
“I’m here to ask for your assistance again, just like last time.”
After a brief handshake, Skinner got straight to the point. He had risen through the ranks and now served as the chief of technical analysis for the joint task force formed by all federal investigative agencies.
“We recovered a phone from the wreckage of the plane that crashed into the Hudson River. It appears to belong to one of the terrorists.”
The device was protected by an extremely strong encryption that no one had been able to break. After concluding that only a top expert could safely and quickly unlock it, they had come straight to Yoo Jae-won—the world’s foremost IT specialist with proven cryptographic talent.
“Hmm?”
Skinner showed him a photograph of the phone. Yoo Jae-won tilted his head. He had assumed the terrorists used Android Phones, yet the device in the picture was an iPhone S.
“If it’s an iPhone S, wouldn’t Apple’s engineers be faster?”
At the question, Agent Skinner’s already frigid expression hardened even further.