The Apgujeong Meeting
The meeting with Vice President Lee Yong-kwon of Giant Killer was held at his apartment in Apgujeong. It was a 65-pyeong unit in the splendidly named Apgujeong Hyundai Apartments, a place that immediately reflected his successful standing in society.
“Wow, there are so many foreign cars here.” It seemed as though every foreign car in Seoul was parked in the Apgujeong Hyundai Apartments lot. Countless Mercedes models that were rarely seen elsewhere filled the spaces. A Rolls-Royce appeared only occasionally. No one bothered counting the Grangers. They appeared to serve as shopping vehicles for the wives, crowding the parking area in front of the building. Finding something as ordinary as a Pony was difficult in this lot. In the twenty-first century such cars would be commonplace, but this was still 1989. Their presence felt strikingly rare. Because every vehicle boasted a classic design, the scene resembled a museum exhibit of modern and contemporary automobiles. It truly lived up to its reputation as an apartment complex for the wealthy.
The impression was not limited to the parking lot. Gaining entry to the building itself proved equally strict. Security lowered the barricade and refused easy access until the invited resident confirmed the visitor. Only after the intercom verification was completed did an access pass appear, along with precise instructions on where to park.
“This really is a wealthy neighborhood. Don’t you want to live in a place like this too, sir?” After his massive success in America and the upcoming windfall in Bundang, Yoo Jae-won could move in whenever he wished. Yet desirable units rarely came on the market, so buyers often waited a long time for a seller to appear.
“Not really.” He had little desire to live there. Apartment life, where one never knew the neighbors, held no appeal. He had grown thoroughly sick of concrete buildings in his previous life. Deokjin-ri, with its sizable river in front of the village and the mountain rising behind it, was far superior. The auspicious layout kept winter winds from reaching the houses, and in summer the river offered cool swimming. Well, swimming was currently off the table—the river cleanup project had not finished, leaving the water somewhat murky. Still, the principle remained. With steady investment in village improvements, modeled after capable residents like Soo-kyung’s father and guided toward forward-looking projects, Deokjin-ri could easily surpass Apgujeong Hyundai as a wealthy community. Within the principle of “cultivating the self, regulating the family, governing the state, and bringing peace to the world” that Yoo Jae-won had declared on the first day of his regression, expanding the scope of “regulating the family” to encompass an entire village was hardly excessive.
Kim Dae-seok found Yoo Jae-won’s preference for a rural village over a modern apartment rather distinctive. While they talked, the car reached the designated parking space.
“Come on, let’s go up together.” Yoo Jae-won pulled Kim Dae-seok, who had been about to stay in the car again, out of the vehicle. The old habit from his days as a chauffeur still lingered. Since the formal appointment had not yet been issued, it was understandable.
“Welcome. I hope the trip wasn’t too inconvenient.” Vice President Lee Yong-kwon greeted them in comfortable attire—cotton pants and a pique shirt—personally opening the door. Yet he was not alone. A middle-aged woman who appeared to be his wife stood beside him, along with a boy who looked to be in middle school, perhaps second or third year.
“Hello. I’m Yoo Jae-won of ID Technology. Thanks to you, everything went smoothly.” He had expected a family gathering when invited to the home, so the sight did not surprise him. He offered a polite bow to everyone who had come to welcome them. Lee Yong-kwon’s wife and son showed no surprise at Kim Dae-seok’s presence; they had heard Yoo Jae-won’s name repeated endlessly from Lee Yong-kwon. They were merely struck by how young he looked in person.
After removing his shoes and slipping on the provided slippers, Yoo Jae-won followed Lee Yong-kwon into the living room.
“Hey, I’m Lee Jae-hyung. I’m in third year of middle school, so you can just call me hyung.” The moment they sat down, Lee Yong-kwon’s son spoke first. His tone carried none of the forceful quality one might expect from someone resembling his father. Instead, his friendliness made Yoo Jae-won feel slightly awkward.
“Understood, hyung-nim. I’m Yoo Jae-won. This is my executive secretary, Kim Dae-seok.”
“Yeah, I know. But you’re really a sixth-grader?”
“Would you like to see my report card?”
“Hah, you carry your report card around? You must be good at studying.”
“I don’t have a resident registration card yet. As for studying, I’m confident.” Whenever time allowed, he reviewed his lessons. By now the elementary, middle, and high school curricula posed no difficulty. Even without relying on the Memory Palace, he could reliably score above 95 on average. The college entrance exam might require a bit of tension, but even if he took it now he could achieve the score needed for a good university in Seoul. Of course, the current system used the academic ability test rather than the later CSAT, so results might be lower, yet Yoo Jae-won had no intention of attending a Korean university anyway. The school he had his eye on was Stanford University—the institution that supplied talent to keep Silicon Valley growing steadily. Caltech and MIT existed, but in his view neither matched Stanford. Looking at the proportion of owners, executives, and key developers from successful IT companies in Silicon Valley, Stanford’s dominance was overwhelming. With an ID Technology office already established there, his path was essentially decided. The only remaining question was whether to complete middle and high school in Korea before heading to Stanford or to accelerate the process through equivalency exams.
“Anyway, it’s just fascinating. You’re the one who actually made Keyboard Warrior, right? I’ve been grinding at it like crazy and still can’t clear Final Stage. Yet you cleared it easily? Can you show me today? Thanks, by the way. Thanks to you my English typing speed has jumped to around 400 characters per minute. My hands got faster and more accurate, which even helped with piano practice.”
Yoo Jae-won now understood the source of Lee Jae-hyung’s friendliness. Keyboard Warrior was both a hit product and a flagship title. Yet how did the boy know he had cleared Final Stage so easily? Surely he wasn’t watching PBS’s Computer Chronicle? Starting with Lee Jae-hyung, the conversation flowed in many directions. The lady of the house brought out coffee and cheesecake, softening the atmosphere further. The coffee was not instant mix but a proper Americano made from espresso diluted with the right amount of water—exactly to Yoo Jae-won’s taste. Most of the discussion, however, centered on him: how he had begun programming, how the American expansion had come about. He repeated the same stories he had told Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon, though the fresh reactions made the repetition worthwhile. Only after recounting the American success saga and finishing the question-and-answer session could he finally begin the real sales pitch.
“You’ve already finished the new product?” Lee Yong-kwon asked, visibly startled.
“No, not ‘already.’ We started around November last year and completed the test version in early June. We’re currently running an open test. If no major issues surface, it will be finalized as the retail version.”
Yoo Jae-won glanced at Kim Dae-seok. The American story was new to him as well; his eyes shone with interest. Meeting Yoo Jae-won’s gaze, Kim Dae-seok suddenly remembered the briefcase he carried and opened it. Inside was a thick plastic diskette case containing the test version of the office suite.
“Why is the file size so large? Seven 2HD diskettes?” Lee Yong-kwon grew even more surprised upon opening the case. He had expected 2D diskettes, yet these were the higher-capacity 2HD variety. A 2D diskette held 360 KB; a 2HD held 1.2 MB. Once uncompressed on a hard drive the total size would roughly double to around 15 MB.
“The recommended specifications are a 386 CPU, VGA, and 15 MB of hard-disk space. We used high-resolution resources generously and incorporated every latest technology, which is why the size grew so large. On the plus side, users can choose during installation whether to include optional features. Installing only the necessary programs also reduces the required space considerably.”
The greatest advantage of computers was customization. Removing unnecessary add-ons from an expensive program was always an option, though he did not recommend it. Better to utilize the full capabilities one had paid for.
“Let’s take a look.” The men gathered in front of the computer. As vice president of Sambo Computer, Lee Yong-kwon naturally owned a Sambo machine with high-quality components. Although he had not received a 486 ahead of others like Yoo Jae-won, he used the best 386 model available, and his hard drive offered ample space. They began by running the installer to place the program on the hard disk. The installation program itself looked remarkably polished. A one-click option existed for beginners, while advanced users could adjust numerous settings. Everything appeared in Korean. The installer first asked whether to use English or Korean.
“Serial number?” After configuring the various options, the program requested a product registration number. Father and son searched the diskette case diligently, but no number had been written down. Yoo Jae-won quickly entered a sixteen-character random string of letters and numbers.
“You memorized all of that?”
“I’m confident in memorization!” Thanks to the Memory Palace, Yoo Jae-won could force even thick volumes into memory. It was no exaggeration to call it perfect recall. Retrieving information stored in the Memory Palace still required a brief moment of concentration, however, so the ability remained only half-complete.
Once the serial number was entered, installation began. The diskette drive was slow, and with seven diskettes the process took considerable time. Even after completion, the program could not be launched immediately.
“We need to run setup to match your system configuration.” He executed the SETUP file. This step was also straightforward. Every line of text on screen was in Korean, and pressing Enter a few times completed the configuration. The program automatically read the hardware ID and loaded the appropriate drivers, handling nearly any standard model without issue. Lee Yong-kwon’s computer posed no problems: Intel CPU, Ilsung Electronics memory, ATI Wonder VGA card, domestic mouse, 101-key Korean keyboard, 80 MB hard drive, Epson 24-pin printer, Sound Blaster card, and Roland MT-32 MIDI module—all well-known brands that the setup routine recognized instantly.
With hardware configuration finished, the benchmark began. Characters scrolled rapidly across the screen, shapes were drawn and erased at high speed, and a short ten-second video clip even played.
Score: 892
Rank: B-Class
“Huh? What’s this?”
“It’s the same benchmark used in Keyboard Warrior. It checks whether the computer’s performance suits office work. A combined score of 1,000 or higher qualifies as S-Class.”
The moment Yoo Jae-won finished speaking, the result appeared: 892 points—B-Class. Lee Yong-kwon, who had felt considerable confidence in his system, could not hide his disappointment at the B-Class rating. The CPU speed of 386 DX-33 MHz was excellent, and the 4 MB of RAM should have been sufficient, yet the memory operated slowly and the 32 KB secondary cache was modest. The hard drive was somewhat outdated as well. The ATI VGA card belonged to an early generation and was not particularly strong. The biggest issue, however, was the mouse manufactured under contract by a domestic company. Although it bore the Sambo Computer logo, its cursor refresh rate failed to support the high-speed 85 Hz mode.
“Anything above 500 points means the program will run without problems.”
“Then how do I reach 1,000 points?” Lee Yong-kwon refused to be consoled. As an executive at a computer company, receiving a B-Class rating felt like a personal disgrace.
“A 486 CPU, at least 2 MB of RAM, a Glide X–compatible latest-generation VGA card, and a Logitech mouse will push you over 1,000.”
“A 486? You’re saying someone already has one?”
“Yes. I have one at home. Intel sent the unit for us to test.”
“Gah! You have a 486 at your house, Jae-won?” Lee Yong-kwon was beyond surprised—he was shocked.