Garage Startup: Silicon Valley Round Two

The second round of the garage startup kicked off at San Francisco International Airport.

"I'm here, California!"

"Can you dial down the country-bumpkin energy a little..."

Everyone was buzzing with excitement. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't just as hyped.

"Let's get to the lodging first and drop our bags."

"Where are we staying? Hopefully somewhere close to that garage."

I wordlessly handed over a map.

"Whoa! It's a Silicon Valley map. Guess that means it's nearby?"

"...?"

"What's with the face?"

"I think you gave me the wrong map. Why is the garage marked on it?"

"Because that's our lodging?"

"?"

Confusion and dread washed over everyone's faces.

"...No way. Are we actually sleeping in the garage?"

"Isn't that great news? No commute required."

"How hard are you planning to work us this time..."

"Hold on. Isn't a garage usually attached to a house? That's what I thought."

"Not this one. I heard it used to be an auto repair shop. The photos from the contract showed some space out back, but calling it a house feels like a stretch."

"Well, we're fucked."

"Cramped quarters with I-seo... hehehe..."

I could have sworn I heard something weird just now. Must have been my imagination.

"I'm not going to crack a whip and force you all to grind. We'll work exactly as much as we're getting paid. American style."

"Pretty sure whipping people isn't the American way..."

"Don't say that in public. You might actually get arrested."

I nearly jumped out of my skin for a second.

We split into two groups and took taxis toward Silicon Valley. Yoo Ji-young and Eun-ji were bickering over who got to sit next to me, so I just plopped down in the middle seat first. We're not kids—why do they have to act so childish?

The taxi driver kept staring at us with huge eyes. Yeah, everyone's looks are straight-up cheating. The drive took forever. I'd heard it was relatively close to the airport, but trusting the American concept of distance was a mistake. The traffic inside Silicon Valley itself was completely insane. Even reaching the garage on the outskirts took ages. At this rate, walking might have been faster.

"We've arriiiiiived!!!!"

"The other team's here too. Should we start with the grand lodging opening ceremony?"

"Let's do this~"

I pulled the key from my bag, unlocked the heavy shutter that had been sealed shut, and rolled it up.

The interior was... how should I describe it? Barren. Just gray concrete walls and pillars standing there like they'd embraced extreme minimalism. In a generous light it was minimalist. In a less generous one...

"This is literally an abandoned building."

Oof. Brutal but accurate.

"It's only because we don't have furniture yet. Once we bring in desks and computers, it won't feel like an abandoned building anymore..."

"Slap some decorations on an abandoned building and it's still an abandoned building."

Damn it, I had no comeback.

"...Let's start by cleaning. We can't leave all this dust and concrete powder everywhere."

We needed to create a space where normal, healthy humans could actually live first. We dragged out some worn-out cleaning tools from the storage area behind the building and got to work. About thirty minutes later, a massive truck pulled up in front of the garage. The driver stepped out and walked toward ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠us.

"Um... Yoon... I-seo? Is that you?"

"Yes, what can I do for you?"

"Delivery. The stuff's pretty bulky—mind giving me a hand?"

The desks were foldable and the chairs came in kits, but their size and weight were no joke. And aside from a couple of us, everyone here was a hikikomori-level weakling, so moving everything was pure suffering. At least the computer components weren't too heavy. The monitors were those chunky CRTs, so they had some heft, but nothing compared to the furniture.

"It's going to be a while before slim monitors come out, huh..."

I really hoped they'd hurry up.

"I got one computer assembled! Help me hook up the server!"

"On my way!"

There was so much to do.

Juddak—or rather, Yoon I-seo—had posted a photo of the garage along with her update. The moment it went up, the server started groaning under the load again. Silicon Valley's netizens, the same crowd that lived and breathed internet culture, completely lost their minds.

Her decision completely defied everyone's expectations.

Instead of backlash, Yoon I-seo's reputation actually rose. It was such an American reaction—completely obsessed with romanticism.

There were arcades in Silicon Valley, of course. Games had always been one of the more socially accepted parts of nerd culture in America.

"Wasn't America supposed to be leading the charge against games?" Kim Jeong-a asked, raising a perfectly reasonable question.

"From what I read, America's hatred was aimed more at consoles than games themselves. Arcades apparently didn't take as big a hit. There's still the prejudice that it's kids' stuff, but they never went full 'don't play at all' like we did back home."

Truly the land of the free. As long as it didn't cause social problems, you could do pretty much anything. This was what a developed country looked like.

"Then don't they have new games in the arcades? I'd love to try some."

"Game companies were dropping like flies. What new games? There are basically no game companies left in America right now."

They threw away a stable arcade industry to bet everything on consoles? Their business strategy seemed to be missing a few screws. That was my first thought, but—

"It made sense at the time. Arcades were already dying. If I were them, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I would've jumped ship to the console market too."

I'd been equally stunned when I researched this while preparing for that debate.

"Anyway, there's an arcade near here. Let's check it out. We can do some market research while we're at it."

"Sure. We've pretty much finished cleaning up and have some breathing room now."

Once the garage was finally organized, I headed to the arcade with Kim Jeong-a and Yoo Ji-young.

"Pong... Galaga... Pac-Man... It's literally the same stuff."

The disappointment hit harder than expected. The scale wasn't even that impressive for a superpower—pretty much on par with the arcades we'd had back home.

"Um... Foxy?"

"...? Who are you?"

"I'm a fan!"

"Huh?"

It reminded me of the first time I met Kim Jeong-jun. Maybe it was just my imagination.

"What? Foxy's here?"

"Foxy, please save this rundown arcade!"

I bolted immediately. Getting surrounded by people like at that offline meetup was the last thing I wanted. Still, we definitely needed to get our rhythm game into arcades here. After all, our current business model revolved around arcade machines.

The arcade visit wasn't without results.

"—Therefore, we need to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠build arcade machines."

"If we're making them, we should use plastic. Flammable materials are out."

"What about steel plates? That doesn't seem bad either."

"But how do we get those materials?"

"I have an idea."

"Of course you do, I-seo. What's the plan?"

"The internet."

"?"

That day, a single post went up on Digital Inside.

There were plenty of mocking replies like "She really did run off to America in a hurry lol," but amazingly, actual business inquiries started flooding in through email.

Yoon I-seo's internet recruitment post had been incredibly effective. She'd caught a big one! The very first public job posting and recruitment thread in this world's internet had just been born.

"Hello!"

"Oh my god a goddess has descended is this a dream or reality thank you God and the Holy Mother I will serve you with the utmost devotion—"

"Um... excuse me?"

"Ah, yes! First, please show me how you plan to build these arcade machines!"

"The design is roughly like this..."

"How many units are you planning to produce?"

"For now, maybe around ten. I don't know if this will even work in America yet..."

"Small-batch production gets expensive... and the casing design requires quite a bit of manual work..."

"Would it be possible to just handle the steel plate fabrication? We can manage sourcing the electronics and assembly ourselves."

"Ah, that should be much more affordable."

"Perfect, thank you!"

A flawless negotiation! We'd have to put in a bit more effort, but a good deal was a good deal.

"By the way, your English is incredibly fluent. I even prepared a dictionary just in case."

"Ahaha, thank you. I had an excellent teacher, so I get compliments like this sometimes."

The six months of native-level English lessons from a real American had paid off beautifully.

"Once the machines are finished, could I try playing one first?"

"Of course. You're the one helping us the most."

The early-adopter instinct was very real. Honestly, I'd want to try it first too if I were him. The business was slowly getting on track.

"What do you think is inconvenient about arcades?"

"...Not much?"

What? I was overflowing with complaints.

"Actually, the lack of inconvenience might be the problem. It feels like there's no sense of purpose. I don't know how to explain it exactly."

"A lack of purpose for playing the games?"

"Yeah... something like that?"

"Then let's focus on that. Let's create a purpose."

"Hmm... but can we add purpose to the existing system? In games where score is everything, how would we..."

"If there's nothing to add, why not take something away instead?"

What a vicious idea! Everyone stared at Yoon I-seo as even Satan would have been impressed by that statement.

"You..."

"No, think about it. If there's nothing to add to a rhythm game, just remove the music and give it only when certain conditions are met."

"Nothing feels worse than giving something and then taking it away."

"We haven't given it to anyone here yet, so it should be fine, right?"

"She... has a point!"

Unfortunately, these gullible team members could be convinced by even this level of sophistry.

"Even if we ignore that, won't it feel lame if you just play songs someone else has already unlocked?"

"What if we prevent people from playing songs others have unlocked?"

"...How?"

"Give each person their own account, like at PC cafes. They can only play the songs they've personally unlocked. Wouldn't that make everyone pay to unlock their own songs?"

"Wow... I-seo, you..."

Go ahead and curse me. This is capitalism!

"Are you a genius?"

Wait, why aren't you insulting me?

"What do you even do with a person like this? Anti-government communist activism? The National Security Agency guys are definitely a bunch of idiots."

"...That's not an insult, is it?"

No, it sounded more like sarcasm the way he said it.

"We could apply the same thing to shooting games. Start players with only the basic ship and give them new fighters whenever they meet certain conditions."

Hmm, she caught on fast. That day, the wicked, utterly evil capitalist scheme known as the arcade Network System was born. Satan recorded yet another loss today.