Android Begins
The original plan for the Android project was an operating system similar to Unix. Unlike DOS, which had been plagued by fundamental memory issues from the very first misstep, this one was designed with future technological advancements firmly in mind. It would effortlessly handle hundreds or even thousands of megabytes of memory, along with hard drives reaching thousands of gigabytes. The goal was broad compatibility across any hardware, paired with built-in networking capabilities.
With networking as a standard feature, robust protection against external attacks was naturally required. In contrast, the temporary operating system modeled after DOS offered little beyond Glide X and the Ribbon Interface. “Still, that’s nothing to scoff at.”
Glide X and the Ribbon Interface were the core of the Android operating system. Even if they ran on top of DOS, their value could never be diminished. The Windows 3.0 that Microsoft was currently developing was essentially a graphical shell running on DOS as well.
“Then how about calling it Android Alpha?”
It marked the beginning of the Android project and served as a stopgap measure, so adding the “Alpha” suffix felt appropriate. Once the full Android project was underway, the kernel could be switched to a Unix-style system and officially numbered 1.0. To users, the change would be invisible, yet it would fundamentally transform the operating system’s essence—like swapping out a car’s engine. Safety and scalability would improve dramatically.
Hardware manufacturers were already building products around Glide X, so no major adjustments would be needed on that front. Application developers, however, might face some confusion. They would have to write programs compatible with the Unix framework. Fortunately, Glide X would act as an intermediary, easing the transition considerably. With an Android-exclusive compiler also in the works, the latest games leveraging the Glide X library should port smoothly to Android.
“And then there’s the internet.”
Yoo Jae-won believed the internet revolution, set to begin in the early 1990s, would drive Android’s widespread adoption. Using DOS for internet access felt like torture, while Windows 3.0 was at least tolerable—though its poor graphics performance meant games were out of the question. At best, one could manage card games. More critically, the lack of protected mode left security nonexistent.
“Ah! Speaking of security, I wonder if the landmine I planted in ID Office went off properly?”
Still unaware of Microsoft’s current situation, Yoo Jae-won could only speculate. Given the absurd proposal Remington had received, it was clear they had attempted reverse engineering to analyze ID Office’s technology. That should have triggered the landmine. The trap wasn’t powerful enough to physically damage hardware, however. No matter how aggressively software attacked a computer in this era, components wouldn’t shatter. A simple power cycle would suffice. Only later, with the advent of flash ROM technology, would true hardware-level destruction become possible. Currently, ROMs allowed only reading, but future iterations would support updates—flash BIOS ROMs capable of both reading and writing.
The problem lay in the extremely lax security of flash BIOS. The CIH virus had exploited this vulnerability perfectly, corrupting the flash BIOS ROM and destroying hard drive data, rendering computers instantly inoperable. Created in Taiwan, CIH had caused widespread chaos after reaching Korea, ultimately spurring significant growth in the security software market.
The landmine Yoo Jae-won had created lacked the destructive force of CIH because contemporary hardware couldn’t support it. Instead, once activated, it would encrypt every bit of data on the hard drive using AES-128 encryption—impossible to recover with current technology. It resembled ransomware, yet no ransom demand or decryption key would be provided. The program would simply encrypt the entire drive and then delete itself.
Of course, Yoo Jae-won hadn’t embedded the landmine out of malice. It was triggered by a single action: reverse engineering, not software piracy. Computer programs were compiled from source code into binary executables. Reverse engineering reversed that process, attempting to reconstruct source code from binaries—though only assembly-level approximations were feasible. Reverse engineering was far worse than piracy; while piracy merely duplicated a program, reverse engineering stole its core technology. That was why Yoo Jae-won had created the landmine to protect ID Office’s innovations.
The moment ID Office launched even once, a tiny resident program would load into memory to monitor for reverse engineering attempts. Upon detection, the landmine would arm itself—but not detonate immediately. It included a delay of several days. If it triggered right away, the user could simply power off and contain the damage. The delay ensured maximum impact by striking when the target had grown complacent.
Any modern computer expert would find this mechanism laughably crude. Contemporary operating systems protected system files, requiring root or administrator privileges for access. DOS had no such safeguards. Every program ran with full root privileges, allowing destructive commands to execute instantly.
“If it’s going to blow, I hope it does so spectacularly and leaves them sweating.”
Yoo Jae-won muttered the grim wish. Even if the trap activated, he wasn’t entirely confident it would cause severe damage. Software companies always maintained backups. Even if the hard drive data turned to gibberish, recovery would be swift with separate backup files. But what about his own situation? Thanks to Microsoft’s interference, he now had to build a bootloader and an ersatz DOS as well.
Under normal circumstances, this would have been the time to teach advanced students. Thanks to Yeong-sik and Su-gyeong’s diligent efforts, he could have introduced them to C programming. The thought left him deeply frustrated.
Reflecting on it, the irony struck him harder. In the 21st century, Gates’s public image had been exceptionally positive—more than an image; he had genuinely been a good person. After retiring, he had poured nearly all his wealth into the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, driving enormous social contributions. Beyond donations, he had personally aided Africa and the developing world. The foundation’s work on AIDS vaccine development and distribution had earned it recognition as Africa’s greatest bulwark against the disease.
That benevolent Gates did not exist now. Only the tyrant of the Microsoft empire remained. Moreover, Gates had already targeted ID Office and ID Technology, preparing an immediate assault.
“I’ll have to crush them completely with Android and Office.”
Yoo Jae-won couldn’t afford to wait for Gates to become a good person. If that happened, it would mean Microsoft had monopolized both the operating system and office software markets—and ID Technology had failed. He refused to accept defeat.
Grinding his teeth, Yoo Jae-won increased his typing speed. Ding-dong!
After hammering out several hundred more keystrokes, the phone rang again.
“Agh, every time I build momentum, the phone rings.”
Grumbling, he nevertheless approached the phone and picked up the receiver. His greeting, “This is Yoo Jae-won,” quickly rose in pitch to “Yes? Yes?” before ending with an enthusiastic “Thank you!”
“Yahoo!”
The sudden call had come from the Korea Telecom Yeoju branch. They were asking if they could install ISDN tomorrow. Minister Oh Myung’s promised ISDN pilot service had finally begun. The stress accumulated from Microsoft melted away in an instant. If he could truly communicate rapidly with the United States, his work efficiency would multiply. In the face of an imminent clash with Microsoft, no better weapon existed.
At the same moment, in the president’s office of the Hyeonmiyu factory in the Deokjin Industrial Complex, President Park Sang-kwon and Su-gyeong’s father were sharing candid conversation over cold beer. The discussion had clearly progressed significantly—two empty beer bottles lay on the table, and the squid and peanuts that had served as snacks were reduced to empty shells.
Park Sang-kwon downed the remaining half-glass of beer in one gulp, smacked his lips, and spoke.
“Whew, drinking beer makes me crave chicken. I only tried it once, but the fact that it left such an impression tells me your business is definitely going to succeed.”
When the Deokjin Elementary School cafeteria had distributed chicken throughout Deokjin-ri last time, Park Sang-kwon had been lucky enough to receive three pieces. The office had a microwave, so he’d warmed the cooled chicken slightly. The taste had been truly excellent. Paired with beer instead of cola, the combination had been perfect.
“That’s why I initially considered getting into the chicken franchise business myself. I never expected things to grow this big.”
Su-gyeong’s father nodded in agreement. Though he ran a poultry farm, he had never eaten chicken prepared this way before, and he hadn’t imagined the flavor would leave such a deep impression.
“So? Are you saying no? You’re not going to do Yukyeong Foods?”
“Of course I’m doing it. Absolutely.”
Park Sang-kwon’s tone implied he would proceed even if the other refused, so Su-gyeong’s father answered in alarm.
“Good. Smart choice. I’ll help you too. You mentioned having trouble finding equipment for chicken processing—I’ll look into it from the U.S. I’ll also ensure a stable supply of feed.”
“Thank you. I’ll definitely use your company’s feed for the chickens.”
“Of course. But that’s not all, is it? You should accept my investment too! Just write up a solid business plan.”
“Ugh, you’re bringing up the business plan again?”
Su-gyeong’s father grumbled at the mention of the business plan. He had claimed he could handle it in front of Jae-won, but actually attempting it proved far more difficult than expected. This was on an entirely different level from running a poultry or pig farm. Thanks to the ID Office program Jae-won had installed, progress was being made, but completing it still felt overwhelming. At least today’s conversation with his friend Park Sang-kwon had given him a clearer vision of the future.
“Tch, still, you’re better off than me. You have no idea how much I struggled to secure capital when I built this factory. All you need to do is write a good business plan and the investment money appears. A chick hatchery, a broiler processing plant, a refrigerated distribution network… This isn’t a venture that can be done with just a few pennies. Of course, the profits will be enormous too.”
Park Sang-kwon intended to invest in Yukyeong Foods. From the brief description alone, it was clearly a business that would generate massive returns, so he was preparing an investment in the hundreds of millions of won, not mere tens of millions. Even with a friend, however, he couldn’t commit equity based solely on verbal explanation, which was why he kept pressing for the business plan.
“It feels burdensome. Even a rough estimate shows this will require hundreds of millions. If it fails, it won’t just be me in trouble— you and Jae-won will suffer losses too.”
“Don’t borrow unnecessary worries. I know better than you how sharp that kid Jae-won is. If the business were going to fail, he wouldn’t have even mentioned the word ‘investment.’”
“You think so?”
“Besides, that quiet kid climbed onto the stove first. You’re not one to do that.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Wasn’t your original business name Yukyeong Chicken? ‘Yu’ from Yoo Jae-won and ‘gyeong’ from Su-gyeong.”
“Gasp!”
“It’s obvious at a glance. Any parent with a daughter who’s seen what Jae-won is doing would want to marry her off to him. Same goes for me. Ah, if only I’d married earlier and had a daughter, she’d be about Jae-won’s age now. What a shame.”
President Park Sang-kwon felt the same covetous urge whenever he looked at Yoo Jae-won. The boy consistently delivered results beyond expectations. Watching him felt like riding an endless ascending blue dragon roller coaster. Last year, Park had boarded without knowing what he was getting into and had his mind blown. This time, it seemed to be his close friend’s turn. In any case, Park Sang-kwon envied even the close relationship between Jae-won and Su-gyeong. But envy wouldn’t magically produce a wife or daughter.
Park Sang-kwon suddenly stood up.
“Business is, after all, a race against time. Let’s start working right now. We should head to the county office immediately and apply for the land.”
“S-Should we?”
Su-gyeong’s father, swept up by Park Sang-kwon’s forceful energy, hurried after him.
“Secretary Kim, call Driver Choi. We need to go to the city hall right away.”
Leaving the office, Park Sang-kwon found the driver and climbed into the back seat of the car. Su-gyeong’s father, who had gotten in somewhat flustered, wore a determined expression that soon softened into a smile. When was the last time he had moved so actively? The thought of Yoo Jae-won automatically brought a pleased smile to his face.
Unfortunately, on the opposite side of the globe, the situation was quite different. Gates and Steve descended to the Alpha Lab to check the programmers’ computers. Every machine had been reduced to a useless shell. They wouldn’t even boot. After finally creating a boot disk and examining the hard drives, they found that all files had been transformed into incomprehensible gibberish. System files, executables, batch files, and even the precious Windows source code had all been altered. The file names still appeared to be source code, but opening them revealed only combinations of uppercase and lowercase English letters mixed with special characters. No matter how many recovery attempts they made, no clue emerged on how to restore anything.
Checking the computers revealed that every machine in the Alpha Lab had suffered the same fate. Some computers booted normally, but their files were already corrupted. This included the source code for products that had already been completed. Even the core source code for the soon-to-be-released DOS 4.0 and the Windows 3.0 still under development had been affected.
“Aaaagh!”
Gates, his face flushed red like a bomb about to explode, finally detonated. Steve was no different. The names ID Technology and Yoo Jae-won flashed simultaneously in both men’s minds.
“WHAT! THE! FXXK!”