Android Begins
The Information and Communications Software Fair for the Presidential Cup was held today. Over forty domestic and foreign companies specializing in cutting-edge software development participated in the event. From the very first day, the fair drew massive crowds, reflecting the public's keen interest in advanced industries. Among the exhibitors were Microsoft Korea and Lotus, but the booth that captured the most attention was that of ID Technology, the company that had been stirring waves since last year.
Yoo Jae-won's latest creation, ID Office, is an office automation suite designed for everyone from students to professionals. It received high praise from experts, and the line of ordinary visitors waiting to try the demonstration stretched out of the exhibition hall, creating quite a spectacle.
In the hotel room where Yoo Jae-won was staying for the three-day event, the nine o'clock news was airing. As soon as the clock struck nine, the news desk appeared on screen, and the very first story was about the software fair. The coverage ran for three consecutive segments. Not long ago, the lead story on the nine o'clock news had always been public security matters. That was understandable, given the uproar caused by Pastor Moon Ik-hwan and then student Lim Soo-kyung's unauthorized visit to North Korea on July 1.
North Korea had hastily organized the strange Pyongyang World Festival of Students and Youth in its capital, and Lim had crossed the border without permission to attend. The festival was a rushed response born of North Korea's bitter envy over the success of Korea's 1988 Olympics. Those Games had concluded so splendidly that even North Korea had no choice but to acknowledge their success, proving to the world that Korea had worked a miracle from the ruins of war. The event had raised Korea's global profile and left the world with a positive image of the country—an outcome that deeply rankled the North. Hence the festival, an event meant to showcase North Korea's progress to university students from around the world.
A hastily assembled event naturally led to shoddy results, and because it was billed as a world-class affair, the scale of its failures was also world-class. In an attempt to impress the visiting students with Pyongyang's appearance, the regime launched massive construction projects. They expanded Sunan Airport, built Kwangbok Street, began work on the much-talked-about Ryugyong Hotel, and constructed the Rungrado May Day Stadium. All of it required enormous sums of money. Flying in, feeding, and entertaining university students from invited countries cost a fortune. In Korea, the real estate developed for the 1988 Olympics would have been sold to the private sector for tidy profits—the Olympic Village apartments were traded exactly that way. But in North Korea, where private property did not exist, such a thing was impossible. The financial mess created by the festival later became the starting point of the Arduous March, and its scale was staggering.
Contrary to North Korea's intentions, Lim Soo-kyung herself eventually became a headache. Images of the free-spirited female university student in jeans and a T-shirt were broadcast across the entire country, delivering a visual shock. During her movements she even gave unplanned speeches, spouting unexpected remarks and fearlessly criticizing the North Korean system. To people living under the rigid 5th Department system, the raw, liberated image of the young woman was a revolutionary shock—so said defectors later. Of course, an even greater shock to the defectors was the sight of Lim herself and her family living well despite her illegal border crossing. In North Korea, Lim and her entire family would have been dragged off to a political prison camp.
To Yoo Jae-won, such incidents were problems without answers. They were simply the spirit of the times. Experiencing the romance of the 1980s firsthand was one thing, but having to watch the movement's dark history unfold live was another matter entirely. For now, however, there was nothing he could do but observe. At least the television was finally broadcasting fresh news, and because it concerned him, his attention sharpened.
Soon footage shot by the camera crew appeared. It showed Yoo Jae-won creating a spreadsheet on a computer connected to a projector, importing it into the word processor, merging it with an existing document, and printing the result. The anchor called it coverage of the software fair, but in reality it was little more than an ID Office special.
“The hospitality is paying off immediately.”
“Indeed. I thought those fellows would keep their mouths shut no matter what, but they’re earning their keep properly after all.”
Kim Dae-seok answered Yoo Jae-won’s remark. As was obvious, the coverage had not appeared by chance. Robert and Kim Dae-seok had treated the visiting reporters to lunches and dinners so lavish the table legs nearly broke, and afterward handed out envelopes containing 100,000 won each, supposedly for “reporting expenses.” In the twenty-first century such behavior would have violated the Improper Solicitation and Graft Act, but at present it was not illegal. They simply regarded it as advertising or marketing costs.
The footage that aired looked exactly like promotional material for ID Office.
“And we have to do this two more times,” Kim Dae-seok muttered, shaking his head. Today was the first day of the fair, so broadcast crews had been numerous. Tomorrow would be the newspaper reporters’ turn. Because of his age, Yoo Jae-won had been excused from the entertaining, leaving Robert—who enjoyed drinking—to handle it, with Kim Dae-seok added for experience. Though Kim prided himself on his tolerance, he could not keep up with the reporters’ legendary drinking capacity. Even after consuming that much alcohol, the reporters still filed clean articles, which remained a mystery to him.
“Anyway, just endure a little longer. Once ID Office succeeds, you’ll be rewarded in proportion to the results.”
From the conversations heard at the exhibition hall, the outcome was already decided. Although several word processors, including Arae-a Hangul, were competing, none surpassed ID Office. Officials from the Ministry of Communications and the Ministry of Science and Technology who had come to assess the software’s level declared that ID Office was on par with the latest American programs. The light version created for 286 computers also received favorable reviews. While it lacked advanced features, anyone with a 286 could produce high-quality documents, and its low price earned it widespread praise.
Among the general public, ID Office generated the greatest excitement. Not only were the free gifts attractive, but there were also the most demonstration computers available, along with guides who helped even beginners try several functions themselves. The added presence of actual 486 machines—the first many had seen—guaranteed crowds.
“Good heavens, just give me any task you like!”
Even Kim Dae-seok could feel the heat. Performance bonuses were certain to be paid. It was no wonder that Kim, who had been complaining earlier, had switched to full “workhorse” mode.
A few days later.
—Congratulations! Yoo Jae-won Wins Presidential Award!—
A large banner hung at the entrance of Dukjin Elementary School. It was the second massive banner to appear after last year’s ministerial award. Naturally, a similar banner was also strung up in front of Naeo Village. As the wording indicated, the winner of the Presidential Cup Information and Communications Software Fair was Yoo Jae-won’s ID Office.
Footage of him receiving the trophy and certificate from the second president he had met aired once again nationwide. The president proudly declared that a domestic software product had emerged that did not lag behind the latest American programs, and vowed that the government would distribute it across the country. A single offhand remark from the president asking people to “look after” Yoo Jae-won had already boosted sales of the typing tutor, and now that the government had openly promised distribution, adoption of ID Office by government ministries was all but guaranteed.
Still, the full ID Office package was unlikely to sell in large quantities. Unlike the United States, 386 computers were not yet widely distributed in Korea. Instead, the light version of ID Word Processor was expected to sell well in tandem with the spread of 286 machines.
Lee Chan-soo’s Arae-a Hangul 1.0, which he had promoted during breaks at the fair, also achieved modest success. It ran well even on XT-class machines lower than 286, displayed Hangul properly on monochrome video cards, and could be executed from a floppy disk without requiring a hard drive—features that created demand among schools, companies, and households still using XT computers.
Yet Lee Chan-soo could not smile freely. On 286-class machines, office software had already become virtually standardized around ID Word Processor. He knew all too well that if XT machines were phased out in favor of 286s, the future of Arae-a Hangul would become extremely uncertain. He had already sketched out plans in his head for a successor version that would fully utilize the performance of 286 and 386 machines, but he lacked the confidence to create it without infringing on ID Office’s patents.
“This is a dead end,” he muttered to himself while sitting in front of a computer in the school’s computer research club room, which also served as his makeshift office. His eyes naturally drifted to the small business card tucked beside the monitor. The card bore ID Technology’s golden logo. The phone number was on the back; he reached out to flip it over.
“Still, I can’t give up yet.”
In the end, he never turned the card over. Thanks to the software fair, orders for Arae-a Hangul continued to trickle in, albeit in small quantities. He wanted to push forward as far as he could before deciding whether to surrender. Even so, he could not help feeling envious of Yoo Jae-won, who had received orders for ten thousand copies.
Upon returning to Yeoju, Yoo Jae-won immediately set to work.
“Prepare to manufacture the ID Office packages.”
This was his instruction to Kang Chan-ho, the Yeoju branch manager and ID Technology’s top production executive.
“How many units should we produce?”
“There are two products. The first is the light version of ID Word Processor—ten thousand copies. The second is the full ID Office package. We’ll start with ten thousand of those as well, so please prepare accordingly.”
“That’s twenty thousand units in total?”
The typing tutor Keyboard Warrior had printed roughly thirty-five thousand copies from last year until now. Yet ID Office and the light ID Word Processor were starting at the ten-thousand-unit mark. Fortune had smiled on them. The government had placed an order for ID Word Processor matching the number of 286 computers being distributed to schools. Furthermore, the light version had been selected as the standardized textbook for the previously chaotic computer classes in schools. While the presidential award had brought only a gold-plated trophy and certificate, the accompanying order for ten thousand units felt like an unexpected and generous bonus.
The ten thousand full ID Office packages were the quantity Yoo Jae-won had projected after assessing the Korean market. Originally he had planned to release both the full package and individual products such as the word processor and spreadsheet separately, but doing so would have required far too many preparations. Given Korea’s already limited demand for genuine software, he decided to produce only two versions: the full package containing all four programs, and the light word processor.
“Understood! I’ll begin with the package box design right away.”
“Good. And there’s no need to produce the manuals in-house. The volume is considerable. It would be better to outsource them to a professional publisher rather than print them here.”
“Understood. I’ll obtain quotes and report back.”
The scale of the program was on an entirely different level from Keyboard Warrior. Each program contained hundreds or even thousands of functions, so explaining them all would require manuals as thick as dictionaries. Yet cutting costs by reducing the manual’s size was not an option. Because these were brand-new programs, detailed explanations were essential. The manuals had already been prepared alongside the program design and coding, so there was nothing left to organize. All that remained was to take the finished text and image files, load them into publishing software, and edit them properly.
However, the current instructions did not yet involve creating the master disks. Although Android Alpha and the bootloader were largely complete, various tests were still underway in case of errors. No critical bugs or serious compatibility issues had surfaced so far, so the August 15 release remained on schedule.
Kang Chan-ho, having received concrete instructions, moved immediately. But Yoo Jae-won’s mind was occupied with a more complex question.
How should I deploy the weapons I’ve prepared to inflict maximum damage on Microsoft?
Microsoft had remained quiet since the early July clash, yet the question never left Yoo Jae-won’s thoughts. Using ID Office to confront MS Office head-on was only natural. But that alone would not satisfy him. He had gone to the trouble of creating Android Alpha along with its bootloader; he intended to collect proper compensation for that effort.
The real problem was how to distribute Android Alpha—an operating system that placed a graphical interface atop a DOS-like base. The best approach would be to sell it for money. Yet with MS-DOS already dominating the PC operating system market, charging money for Android Alpha would be tantamount to suicide. “Then giving it away for free is the answer……”
Thanks to his thorough preparation in his previous life, he had completed Android Alpha without much difficulty. Since his flagship product was ID Office, he could afford to give Android Alpha away. Doing so, however, risked accusations of dumping. From America’s perspective, ID Technology was a foreign company while Microsoft was American. The U.S. could claim that a Korean firm was giving away software for free specifically to harm an American company’s interests. If that pretext triggered something like Super 301 sanctions, Yoo Jae-won would become not Korea’s pride but its disgrace.
After long deliberation, a flash of inspiration struck.
“Wait—what if I collect money not from users, but from companies?”
Users would receive the software free in exchange for viewing advertisements. In the twenty-first century this was an entirely ordinary business model. Internet services, messengers—virtually nothing lacked ads. With Android Alpha’s ribbon interface, it should be feasible. A palm-sized corporate advertisement could appear briefly in the lower right corner after booting and then disappear. There was no need to charge companies exorbitant fees. Yoo Jae-won was even willing to release Android Alpha for free if it damaged MS-DOS’s market share. Therefore, any amount sufficient to prove the software was not entirely free would suffice. Of course, users who disliked advertisements could purchase an ad-removal code.
“Now, which companies would make good advertisers?”
Countless corporate logos flashed through Yoo Jae-won’s mind, but one quickly remained: Electronic Arts. As a company specializing in computer game distribution, it ran many game advertisements. Moreover, it was actively encouraging its contracted developers to use Glide X. That meant compatibility with Android Alpha was already secured. Although no deal had been struck yet, Activision could be approached in the same manner. Even if not to the same extent as Electronic Arts, many games were being developed with Glide X.
Users would obtain DOS for free, while game companies would gain precise target marketing. Yoo Jae-won could easily raise Android Alpha’s profile while simultaneously dealing Microsoft a severe blow. Everything aligned perfectly.
“Excellent.”
Having reached his decision, Yoo Jae-won immediately sat down at his computer, launched ID Word Processor, and began typing a document outlining the new concept of adware at a furious pace.