The Expo Opportunity

"So, what do we do now?"

"Yeah, seriously?"

"The festival ended ages ago, the game tournament's over too... we've got nothing left."

"What do you mean nothing? We still have to study for finals."

"Aaaaargh!!!!"

"I was finally starting to forget about it!!!"

That was the reality. The first-years had been too busy having fun to worry about it, but finals season was creeping up fast. Our club, mostly made up of second-year seniors, would have to temporarily shut down services until the exams were over. Of course, I was the exception. I didn't need to worry much about tests—I could breeze through them—so I could focus entirely on computing. Though Seung-hyeop still hadn't had time to do the translations, so I'd have to handle all of that myself... but that was a small price to pay.

"I'm so jealous."

"I-seo, it'll probably be the same next year too... Does schoolwork even register as a priority for her?"

They weren't wrong. After all, I was the one helping the seniors with their studies.

"Okay, let's wrap this up and meet again during break!"

"...During break?"

"Yeah. We'll be brainstorming ideas and coding all day, right?"

Surprisingly, no one looked disappointed. This was exactly why they'd joined in the first place. Little did they know that the three-month break would mean staring at nothing but displays and stacks of over a thousand sheets of paper...

Finals ended, and break began. My location hadn't changed, of course. The only difference was that the dorm curfew had lifted, so I could sleep in the clubroom if I wanted.

"I want to make a game, but... I don't know, the spark just isn't there."

"We'll figure that out eventually. The most important thing is avoiding anything that could cause social controversy. Sensationalism, violence, gambling—get caught on any of those and it's game over."

Part of me wanted to just say screw it and release Doom and Mortal Kombat since the timing lined up, but that was obviously impossible.

"If we just finish contributing to HTTP, the official club approval review should ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be a free pass anyway... so let's focus on making games with peace of mind."

"Ooh...! Finally!"

"Lady Yoon I-seo, please bestow your blessings upon us and show us the way."

"Don't be so dramatic. First, let's figure out what we're actually making. Does anyone have any ideas?"

Contrary to my expectations of a flood of suggestions, no one raised their hand.

"Seriously? No one wants to make anything? I'll even buy snacks."

Only one person shot their hand up. Why was there just one? Jin-bae's eyes sparkled as he raised his arm alone.

"Go ahead, Jin-bae senior."

"City building? I've always wanted to try making something like that. I have a friend in urban engineering, and watching him run simulations made me think a simplified version could be fun."

"Okay, you're hired!"

That was the moment the simulation genre was born.

"So... we have to make this?"

"Yep! The scale got a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠little out of hand, but it'll work out somehow, right?"

"What's the deadline?"

"Probably before the official club promotion review? Given the size, we need at least that much time."

"Oh no, Jin-bae... why'd you have to bring that up..."

"..."

Jin-bae couldn't say a word.

"Still, it'll be fun, won't it? Ji-young senior and I will probably be working hard for a while, so in the meantime, think about how you'll structure the code and run some experiments. Oh, and don't push Seung-hyeop senior too hard. If he goes on strike, we won't finish our collaboration and the review will be a disaster."

Technically, I was the one who'd worked him the hardest, but we could gloss over that. Beautiful girls got away with everything, after all.

"Anyway, we've got plenty of time. It's only been a week since the semester ended, so if we take it slow—"

"...? I-seo?"

The club members looked confused as I suddenly trailed off. The reason was simple.

"What's in this envelope?"

A yellow paper envelope with an unusual logo printed on it. If not for the logo, I would've assumed it was just another official notice or manual and left it alone. But the emblem was impossible to ignore.

"Huh? That's just an official document... wait, what?"

I tore it open and scanned the contents. To summarize:

Korean Telecom, a company partnered with KUST, would be setting up a booth at the information and communications pavilion of the Daejeon Expo. Any related departments or clubs interested should contact them.

"Hold on—Expo?"

That was right. The 1993 Daejeon Expo, the largest international event of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠1990s and often called Korea's beacon of hope. As an extension of our industry-academia collaboration, they were offering us a chance to tag along...

"Where's the phone booth? I need to call Korean Telecom right now."

The Korean Telecom Expo task force was in an awkward position. The information and communications pavilion and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠its auxiliary advanced communications exhibition hall were already complete, and once a few remaining documents were submitted, all work except oversight would wind down. The university project proposals they'd received so far had all been subpar. They'd hoped KUST would deliver something better.

Then an internal call came from the reception center.

"Yes, Expo task force speaking."

"What? A club from the university wants to propose an industry-academia project? Why now..."

"Ah, understood. We'll contact them from our end. Yes. Yes, yes."

Click.

The sound of the receiver being set down echoed hollowly in the heavy silence.

"What was that about?"

"Well... sir. KUST wants to submit an additional review for that industry-academia project we discussed last time..."

"Huh? We already reviewed that and rejected it."

"No, that was from a department. This one's from a different club."

"A club? They think the Expo is some kind of school festival? The event's only three months away—what could they possibly do now?"

"...Then I'll just pretend to review it and reject it immediately."

"Do that."

To an outsider, it might have looked like typical bureaucratic stubbornness, but that wasn't the case. From the perspective of people actually working on the Expo, a single club expressing interest in participating made it seem like they were treating the world-class event as child's play—just as the section chief had said.

However, their opinions changed in an instant.

Right after the meeting with the KIN club, where the deputy had essentially said "you guys aren't getting in" with one ear in and one ear out, a voice called out.

"Ah, Deputy Kim. A package arrived."

"A package? Now of all times... We basically already rejected the club, too... Well, hand it over."

It was a thick, yellowish paper envelope. Usually, universities sent at most five pages for proposals. Deputy Kim thought as much.

"...? CERN? Why is this here?"

"Excuse me?"

The special task force wasn't made up of fools. It was an elite unit assembled to showcase results at the Expo and secure budgets. That was why they stayed up to date on recent research trends and industry movements.

"Team Neversleep? Why would they send us something...?"

They couldn't help but feel dread at the thick stack of documents from the eye of the storm leading internet research.

'Something's wrong.'

That was what everyone in the room was thinking.

The reason CERN had sent the package to Korean Telecom was simple. While KUST had been assigned IPs with CERN's help for a pilot program and regularly exchanged emails with them, someone had sent a message along these lines:

And Team Neversleep's reaction?

Like a grandfather seeing his granddaughter cry, they were furious.

For the record, their actual reaction had been:

"Those bastards insulted the Holy Mother! It's war, you Korean bureaucratic bastards!"

"How dare they fire shots at our sacred Holy Mother! We'll show them the taste of mainland British hooligans so thoroughly they won't even be able to collect their bones!"

Anyway, that was why CERN had sent over dozens of pages filled front and back with introductions to KIN's recent contributions to the web environment, reasons why they should be accepted into the industry-academia project, expected effects, and more—all written as densely as exam cheat sheets, "as politely as possible."

Naturally, the Korean Telecom staff who received it were stunned.

"What the hell? These kids who haven't even dried the blood behind their ears pulled this off??"

Deputy Kim, who had conducted the meeting.

"I had a bad feeling about this. No wonder they were so confident—they had Neversleep backing them. Deputy Kim! Contact that club again immediately!"

The section chief, who had ordered them to reject it outright.

"Neversleep is looking out for us!"

"You idiot, they're looking at the university club!"

"I don't know, Valhalla!"

Even the other employees who had witnessed the foreign correspondence and completely lost their minds.

The Korean Telecom Expo special task force would have no quiet days. For the three months they'd thought they could finally rest, they would have to roll up their sleeves once more.