Ashes and a One-Way Ticket
The hard reset. Maybe a fire had broken out somewhere. At first, it didn’t really register with me. Exams were finally over, after all. But the closer I got to the PC bang, the clearer it became that something was very, very wrong. The smoke thickened in perfect proportion to my growing dread. By the time I stood in front of the building, despair hit me all over again.
The arcade right next to the PC bang looked exactly like the photo in that newspaper article—charred black and utterly ruined.
In truth, it had started as nothing special. Just another protest, same as always. The demonstrators had gathered like they usually did. This was the era when some American campaign was pushing the idea that “a woman smoking a cigarette symbolizes female liberation.” One particularly enthusiastic auntie had taken that message to heart. She was the same woman who regularly dumped her trash wherever she felt like it. That day, apparently in a foul mood, she flicked her still-burning cigarette through the broken window that hadn’t been repaired yet.
That tiny cigarette butt turned out to be the perfect heir to the throne of kindling. It landed with a soft plop and began to smolder. The spark found the homemade arcade cabinets inside. Unfortunately, every single one of those DIY machines was built from cheap wooden plywood slathered in low-grade oil-based paint. The tiny ember devoured the first cabinet in seconds, then leapt hungrily to the machines packed tightly beside it. In the blink of an eye, the entire arcade went up like the fiery passion of the developers and students who had poured their souls into it.
By the time Yoon I-seo arrived, the arcade was no longer a building. It was a blazing furnace that could no longer contain its own roaring flames.
Fire trucks screamed up behind me as I reached the arcade. But the protesters proved to be far more formidable enemies than the flames. “That thing deserves to burn!” they shouted, lying down in the street and pulling the classic “cut my belly open” sit-in. At this point they weren’t even protesters anymore—they were a goddamn cult.
The fire trucks eventually forced their way through, but it was already too late. Standing in front of the smoldering pile of ashes that used to be the arcade, all I could do was sob.
“Exams are finally over… why can’t I just play a little…”
My limbs felt tied down. The helplessness made my teeth grind. No matter what I did now, it was pointless. Even if I made games, I would forever be the public enemy of this country. I’d be cursed for the rest of my life. All I wanted was to create something fun. The world refused to allow even that much.
So I made up my mind. I’m getting the hell out of this shitty country. I would succeed properly, no matter what it took, and shove it so far down these subhuman bastards’ throats that they’d choke on it.
That was my resolution.
Since I had already made some preparations, the process moved quickly. When I told the club members I was leaving the country, they all immediately said they wanted to come with me. A few tears were shed. Apparently everyone had quite a bit of resentment built up toward this nation.
Han Yu-seop had already handed the PC bang over to his father and was preparing to leave. He must have reached the same decision after seeing the arcade burn down like I had.
Oh, and the day after I got my passport, I had another delightful meeting with an Agency for National Security Planning agent.
“Why did you apply for a passport?”
“I’m leaving the country. Can’t make games in Korea anymore.”
“Which country are you going to?”
“Probably America. Silicon Valley. It’s the dream, you know?”
“You exchanged a massive amount of dollars… liquidated all your assets and converted everything?”
“I’m going to America. Isn’t exchanging money obvious?”
“Purpose… unclear…”
“I’m telling the truth, damn it.”
Visiting the anti-communist division again was an absolute pain in the ass. The least they could do was let me sleep. Worse, the memo I secretly peeked at contained records of my daily activities. Have they been tailing me this whole time? That was the moment any remaining affection I had for this country completely evaporated.
The investigator kept trying to find—or rather, manufacture—suspicious points.
“You participated in the General Student Council protest back then, didn’t you?”
“I was living in the PC bang making rhythm games. Ate and slept there, too.”
“And on another day, someone matching your description—”
“That would’ve been when I was in Yongsan buying parts and wrestling with plywood to build arcade cabinets.”
I possessed the ultimate alibi: I was holed up in a PC bang making games.
They finally gave me seolleongtang well after dinner time again.
“The fact that you know to shove this guy’s face in the seolleongtang means you’ve been talking to those General Student Council punks…”
“I told you it wasn’t me, you idiot.”
In the investigator’s head, the theory that everything in existence was part of an anti-government movement seemed to be established academic fact. In the end, I was only released after another all-night interrogation. It was faster than last time, so… I guess that was progress?
Additionally, Nervous Lee contacted me after seeing the fire photos posted on Digital Inside. He offered me a new position in England along with a recommendation letter. I only accepted the letter. I was planning to apply for a U.S. green card under the skilled worker category with a bachelor’s degree or higher, but with a recommendation from an institution like CERN, I could apply as an Exceptional Talent—professor, researcher, or multinational executive level.
It felt wrong to completely ignore his sincere offer to create a research position for me, so I repaid him with improved web browser code. He seemed absolutely delighted with just that. All’s well that ends well.
I received the recommendation under the name KIN, which meant everyone who said they would come with me could travel on the same visa. Were the Nervous Lee people some kind of gods? The green card screening went through at a speed that even surprised Nervous Lee himself. We submitted the immigration application, and just two weeks later the U.S. Embassy in Korea called us. Normally you had to wait months. CERN’s influence really was no joke.
The moment we received the call, we rushed to the embassy, got our visas, and packed our bags. We didn’t have much luggage to begin with, so three suitcases were enough. One of them was more than half full of hard disks and server parts. Lee Eun-ji gave me a look when she saw it. Even I had to admit I’d gone a bit overboard, so I promised myself I’d buy proper clothes once we reached America.
It was a little sad for the original Yoon I-seo, but I liquidated every asset I had—including the real estate. Still, America would provide a much better environment. The original Yoon I-seo would probably be satisfied with that.
The cash from selling everything went toward plane tickets and renting a garage in Silicon Valley. After buying computers and server equipment, my funds were cut in half almost instantly. Normally, performance inflation would have started driving prices down around now. Guess I really need to release Doom quickly. Graphics performance demand is what drives computer advancement, after all.
Thankfully, I didn’t lose money on stocks since they were at their peak. The bubble would collapse soon, so I warned the people around me and even wrote a column about it. If they still didn’t pull out after that, they were doomed from the start.
With all preparations complete, the time finally came. There shouldn’t be any issues at immigration since I had no disqualifying factors…
[Yoon. I. Seo. Passenger Yoon I-seo, please come to the central lounge on the first floor.]
What the fuck is it this time?
When I entered the central lounge, the person waiting for me was…
“You again?”
It was the Agency for National Security Planning investigator.
“What is it now?”
“You’re trying to board a plane carrying four hard disks and server equipment? Aren’t you being a little too brazen?”
“What’s the problem? I have a plane to catch. I’m going to miss my flight.”
“You can’t board with that. We tried to check the internal files and they’re all encrypted. There’s even a… self-firewall or something.”
“Of course a server has a firewall. And if someone hacks my computer, am I supposed to just hand over the files?”
“…Since when did civilians start thinking they’re entitled to that kind of protection?”
Just look at this pathetic excuse for a developed country. Please at least reach 2010s standards…
In the end, I had to decrypt every single hard disk and show them the contents before they let me go. It was all just games and tools, but after I showed them everything, they got hung up on Tetris again and wasted even more time. I swore to myself once more that the next time I returned to Korea, this country had better have become a proper developed nation. Thanks a lot, you Agency bastards.
I thought I’d missed the plane, but thankfully it was delayed. “Alright, let’s go! To America!”
Yoon I-seo, Yoo Ji-young, Kim Jeong-a, Lee Eun-ji, Kim Jeong-jun, Im Jin-bae, Park Seung-hyeop, Han Yu-seop.
The eight members who would later be called the Yoon I-seo Division left Incheon Airport, chasing the American Dream.
A single post with that six-character title was setting the internet on fire once again. The reactions on Digital Inside, to be precise, could be neatly organized into the five stages of grief.
The reactions were so brutally honest that I almost laughed.
— I like that conclusion. Upvoted.
— Hearing he went to America feels like someone died lol
— Of course the site was down for about a week because he was hauling all that server equipment.
The impact was enormous. Especially in Silicon Valley, the reaction was more than just a stir.
“Who the hell managed to snatch that person?”
“Please come to our partner company, we’re begging you.”
“Not the competitors! If you’re going somewhere else, at least make sure it has nothing to do with us!”
While they were all nervously burning incense and praying, a bolt from the blue struck.
“Um… apparently his team—under the name KIN—signed a contract for a garage on the outskirts…”
“So… he didn’t join another company. He’s starting a business in a garage?”
“…Why?”
They had offered him absurdly good conditions, yet after coming all the way to America, he was just going to start a garage company?
“I’m sure he read all the emails… what exactly was the problem?”
They didn’t know. They didn’t know how dead serious Yoon I-seo was about games. They didn’t know that those ridiculous conditions had instead caused a misunderstanding.
But only Yoon I-seo herself knew the real answer.