The Genius Who Could Save Steve Jobs
Steve Jobs suggested handing over the DNA analysis algorithm they had built to “that genius who knows everything.”
At that, the medical team had no idea how they were supposed to react.
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In the heavy silence, the first to respond was his attending physician, Dr. Raymond.
He didn’t look offended so much as plainly bewildered.
“Steve… this program is the result of years of relentless research by our team. It’s intellectual property belonging to the hospital and the university, and a core technology for the medicine of the future. But you want us to share it with an outsider… That’s difficult.”
He said “difficult,” but it was a clear refusal.
The other researchers standing nearby nodded in agreement.
─ The doctor’s right.
─ There are security issues, and more importantly, there’s a risk that outsider could leak it.
─ This program is worth well over several million dollars. It’s still too early to commercialize, but once it is, it’ll be worth even more.
─ Steve, this is the kind of program that could win a Nobel Prize.
Jobs listened to the doctors’ objections in silence.
It makes sense they’d react like that.
Doctors were, at their core, a group driven by the instinct to protect their own rice bowls.
They wrapped it up in noble-sounding phrases like “intellectual property,” “security,” and “patient safety,” but the truth was obvious enough.
They didn’t want someone else taking credit for their work.
And they were also worried that an outsider might produce better results than they could.
Not that doctors are unique in that regard. Everyone is like that, to some degree.
Honestly, I’d once been furious when Google copied Apple and released Android.
To someone looking from the outside, that might even seem like the same sort of “protecting my turf” anger.
“…….”
Instead of getting angry, Jobs picked up the glass of water on the table.
He took a sip, set it back down, and looked each of the doctors in the eye one by one.
“Are you worried about the value of the intellectual property, or about my life?”
“Well… naturally, both.”
“Good. Then let’s talk again.”
Jobs spread two dry fingers before them.
“The support money I’ve been donating to your hospital and research center. I’ll double it starting tomorrow.”
─ ……!
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The eyes of the medical staff all wavered at once.
Even the donations Jobs was already providing were enough to run an entire research center, and then some.
And now he was offering to double that.
It was an intoxicating proposal.
But Jobs’s offer didn’t end there.
“And one more thing. Whether I die on the operating table or when my time simply runs out, I’ll sign an agreement to keep paying that support money for the next five years after my death. I’ll even have a lawyer notarize it.”
─ ……gulp.
Someone swallowed hard.
The doctors’ expressions shifted in subtle ways.
The support money he’s already paying is astronomical…
And now he wants to double it?
He’d keep funding us for five years after he dies…?
That means we could research without worrying about money for at least five years!
Exactly. What Jobs was offering was nothing less than a researcher’s dream.
Normally, when a patron died, foundations and surviving family members either cut off donations entirely or slashed them dramatically.
At best, they’d keep the arrangement alive in name only.
And when that happened, it was common for research projects to collapse.
Medicine was a field that cost astronomical sums of money.
But Jobs was saying he’d keep funding them even after death?
That was more than job security; it was a guarantee that they could use the latest equipment and staff to their hearts’ content.
Dr. Raymond quickly began doing the math in his head.
With that kind of money… we could restart the stem cell project that was put on hold. No, we could even build a whole new research wing.
Scholarly integrity? Research ethics?
Of course those mattered. He had taken the Hippocratic oath, after all.
But the reality was that without money, integrity and ethics meant nothing; the research itself simply could not continue.
“What exactly are you hesitating about? You think I’d take the program and sell it off?”
“…….”
“Look, Doctor. I have more money than I could ever spend in ten lifetimes. Why on earth would I steal a half-finished medical program just to make pocket change?”
Jobs was right.
A man like him, one of the richest people in the world, had no reason to covet an algorithm from a hospital lab.
“And the genius I’m bringing in is the same.”
“He’s… as wealthy as you?”
“Not yet. But he could be soon.”
“…….”
“More importantly, he’s not someone money can buy. I once tried to buy his company, and he told me, ‘I wouldn’t sell it even if you gave me the Statue of Liberty.’”
“……He said he wouldn’t sell the company even if you gave him the Statue of Liberty?”
“Exactly. Someone like that isn’t going to covet your program, is he?”
Jobs let out a small laugh and added, “So you don’t need to worry about anything unnecessary. To that genius, your algorithm and code won’t be some treasure he needs to steal.”
Dr. Raymond fell into thought for a moment.
Still… the fact that Jobs is going this far does reassure me.
If the genius Jobs was talking about was that much of a heavyweight, then he truly wouldn’t care about something as petty as tech theft.
Above all, the amount of money Jobs was offering made refusal almost impossible.
After a long silence, Dr. Raymond let out a deep breath and nodded.
“...All right. But this isn’t something I can decide on my own. I’ll need approval from the hospital leadership and the ethics committee.”
“That’s just formality. If you push hard, nobody will oppose it. The board would practically welcome it with both hands if money’s coming in.”
Jobs was right.
The hospital board had no reason to reject the offer.
“I’ll persuade them as positively as I can. But I do have one more condition.”
“Go ahead.”
“Security. The code must never be stored on an external server. And no one other than you and that programmer—just the two of you—may ever access it. I’ll need a legally binding confidentiality agreement.”
“Of course. I don’t exactly want my illness becoming public knowledge either.”
“And if… that programmer makes any modifications and produces results, then the intellectual property rights must belong entirely to our hospital and university.”
The man intended to make sure he got what he could until the very end.
Jobs actually liked that attitude better. Honest transactions were easier to deal with than hypocrisy.
And on another level, he understood it too.
Just hearing one of the doctors mention a Nobel Prize earlier made it clear how important the work really was.
It was, after all, an equally important project to Jobs himself.
“I’ll negotiate that part with him myself.”
Jobs waved a hand casually.
Only then did the stiffness leave Dr. Raymond’s face.
“Then I’ll report this to the leadership immediately and begin the process. If we move fast, I should be able to give you the secure server access key containing the code by tonight.”
“Hurry it up.”
“Yes. Then, if you’ll excuse me.”
Dr. Raymond led the medical staff out of the room.
* * *
After the doctors left, Jobs sat alone in the empty room and slowly looked out the window.
All right… the hardest gate has been cleared. I found a way.
Now there was only one thing left.
He had to contact the man who held the key to his life—the man called Zero.
Jobs picked up the Apple phone on the side table.
* * *
Buzz—buzz.
Late that evening, at Vincent’s house.
Vincent, who had once again gotten off work late, was eating a late dinner at home.
Just then, his Apple phone vibrated, and he glanced at it.
[XXX~XXXX~XXX]
It was an unsaved number.
Wondering who it could be, Vincent answered.
“Mmmph… yes, I’ve got the phone.”
[Is this Vincent Lightman?]
A somewhat rough, irritated voice came through the receiver, but it was strangely familiar.
...Where have I heard that voice before?
“Yes, that’s me. But excuse me, who is this?”
[Steve.]
Steve?
Countless Steves flashed through Vincent’s mind.
The Steve from college. The partner at the law firm he’d met last week. The owner of his regular sandwich shop, Steve....
But none of them matched the voice on the line.
Then, suddenly, one possibility surfaced in his head.
No way…?
“...Steve from Apple?”
[That’s right.]
“!”
The CEO of Apple, Steve Jobs, was calling him.
Vincent shot to his feet.
No one was there to see it, but it was a purely instinctive reaction.
He was the head of a promising startup himself, sure, but he couldn’t compare to Apple’s CEO.
“Ah… Steve. Wh-what can I do for you? To think you’d call me directly.”
Vincent tried hard to regain his composure.
Why would Jobs call me personally? Could it be because we started working with Android?
Recently, Another Technology had begun releasing apps on Google’s Android Market as well.
That wasn’t a legal problem, since there was no exclusive contract with Apple, but given Jobs’s personality, he might still have taken it as a betrayal.
“Is this about the Android versions of our apps that launched recently? The contract clearly states—”
[I didn’t call about that. This is a personal matter.]
...A personal matter?
While Vincent was still puzzling over it, Jobs continued.
[Of course, it leaves a nasty taste in my mouth that good apps from Another Technology are now on Android. Still, if you people want to make money, I suppose you need to broaden your market. I understand.]
He understands? Steve Jobs does?
Vincent thought he must have heard wrong.
If even half the rumors about him are true, he should be foaming at the mouth and screaming “traitor.”
For now, it was a relief that he wasn’t angry.
“Then what is this about, exactly?”
[…….]
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.
Then Jobs spoke, his voice faintly trembling.
[I’m calling because I have a favor to ask. Not of you, but of the “real CEO.”]
“……!”
Gasp…
Vincent involuntarily sucked in a breath.
The fact that Another Technology had a “real CEO” was confidential.
Even the company’s own employees believed Vincent was the owner.
“...Steve, that joke’s a bit much. I’m the CEO of Another Technology. I don’t know where you heard such nonsense, but—”
[Don’t play dumb, Vincent. I don’t have time for this.]
Jobs’s voice was more desperate than firm.
[I spoke to him once before. I could tell in just a few words that that friend of yours is the real thing.]
“…….”
Vincent swallowed.
Jobs was certain, and no matter how much Vincent insisted there was no real CEO, it seemed pointless.
[I want that CEO’s number.]
“...Steve, I don’t have the authority to hand out his contact information so carelessly.”
In truth, I don’t even know the real CEO’s—Master’s—number. The only person who can contact him is the secretary.
That was what Vincent wanted to say, but the words refused to come out.
[Then tell the real CEO this. Tell him Steve Jobs wants to speak to him immediately. That it’s very “personal” and very “urgent.” You can do that, right?]
“Uh… yes, that much I can do.”
[Then do it now. He has my number too.]
“...Understood. Though I can’t promise he’ll answer. He’s very busy.”
[Just pass it on. If I say it’s urgent, he’ll call back no matter how busy he is.]
Click.
The call ended.
Vincent stared blankly at his Apple phone screen, then sank into thought.
...What on earth is this about? We already turned down Apple’s acquisition years ago. Is he trying to persuade us in person?
He had a hundred questions, but Vincent stopped himself from thinking further.
If Steve Jobs was repeating how urgent this was, then Vincent needed to contact the secretary as quickly as possible too.
Beep. Beep.
When Vincent called the secretary’s number—
[Yes, Vincent.]
It was the secretary. Her elegant voice was calm in a way that was always, somehow, a little thrilling to hear.
“Yes, Secretary. It’s me. I’m sorry to call so late. The thing is… Steve Jobs just called.”
* * *
Whoosh.
In the back seat of a smoothly gliding limousine, Steve Jobs simply stared out at the city lights.
“…….”
Normally, he would have been sketching out ideas or meditating inside the car.
But tonight, he didn’t have the mental room for any of that.
Will Zero call me…?
He believed that Zero would, but worry still clung to him.
If he doesn’t… then I should think seriously about a liver transplant as soon as possible.
A liver transplant would buy him a few years of life.
But it wouldn’t properly cure the cancer; he’d just end up surviving on painkillers, living in misery.
“…….”
Even Steve Jobs—no, perhaps especially because he was a lonely genius—feared the moment death drew near.
Then it happened.
Buzz-z-z-z.
The Apple phone in his hand vibrated.
[Another Technology Secretary’s Office]
It was a call from Another Technology.
The instant he saw it, Jobs knew instinctively.
This was Zero’s call.
With that one call, Apple’s future—and his own life—would be decided.
He answered.
“...Zero?”
Jobs asked.
[Hello, Steve.]
It was a voice he hadn’t heard in a long time.
It was indeed Zero, the real CEO of Another Technology.
Just as before, the voice was arrogant and somehow full of conviction.
Hearing it, the fear of death that had weighed on him moments ago seemed to melt away.
Normally, he would have said, “I took your number and you’ve never once called me. There isn’t another guy like you in this world.”
But right now, Jobs didn’t have the leisure for that.
“I’ll get straight to the point. I want to entrust you with a program. Not to Another Technology—to you personally.”
[…….]
There was a pause on the other end.
[A program, huh… what kind of program?]
“It’s a program made by doctors. Text-based algorithm. Structurally, it’s almost identical to a search engine. I think you could make it hundreds of times more efficiently than the code those doctors wrote.”
Jobs spoke as though he were making a normal business proposal.
But despite his best efforts, his voice trembled.
Receiving Zero’s call had eased his fear of death considerably, but something even harder to bear—hope—had begun to surge in his chest.
...If it’s Zero, he’ll be able to do it without blinking.
That was what Jobs thought.
But the answer that came back was different.
[If the doctors made it, wouldn’t that make it a medical program? I don’t know anything about medicine.]
The tone was strange.
It felt as if the speaker already knew everything and was merely pretending not to.
But Jobs couldn’t afford to suspect that. Every second of his life mattered too much right now.
“It doesn’t have much to do with medical knowledge. Like I said, the principle of the algorithm is exactly the same as a search engine. It’s just a matter of finding errors among three billion text data points.”
[…….]
“Of course, I’m not asking you to do it for free. I’ll pay you.”
Jobs tried to sound as calm as possible.
But the end of each sentence still trembled ever so slightly.
* * *
[……Of course, I’m not asking you to do it for free. I’ll pay you.]
Steve Jobs’s voice rang in my head. It was the voice from the call Zero had connected me to.
And I could hear the tremor in it.
Even Steve Jobs is afraid of death, huh.
I clicked my tongue bitterly.
An icon of innovation. A genius who changed the twenty-first century.
All those glittering labels were powerless in the face of death.
Truthfully, I already knew why he’d called.
Zero had told me Jobs would choose a treatment path slightly different from history because of me.
But since I couldn’t let on that I already knew, I kept playing dumb.
“I’d like you to be more precise about what you want me to help with. If it’s a program made by doctors, then it must involve human lives. Why would you need that, Steve?”
[…….]
“It’s not like you’re trying to expand Apple into healthcare.”
For a moment, there was no reply at all.
Then, at last, a voice came through—resigned, but strangely relieved as well.
[...It’s to treat my cancer.]
“…….”
[Zero, I’m dying. Pancreatic cancer.]
After that, Jobs calmly laid out his condition.
He’d treated the pancreatic cancer, only for it to recur, and it had metastasized to his liver. Surgery was difficult.
To undergo chemotherapy, he needed a genomic analysis, but he didn’t have much time.
It was all information I already knew.
But hearing it in Steve Jobs’s own voice made it feel much heavier.
I closed my eyes for a moment and sank into thought.
Saving Jobs…
Zero, if I save Steve Jobs, how will history change?
For me, the biggest risk was the possibility that history itself could shift.
One of my strongest weapons was future knowledge, after all.
But if Jobs survived and Apple surged far ahead of Samsung, or if he suddenly veered into some bizarre business venture and ran Apple into the ground, then what?
That wasn’t the direction I wanted.
If the butterfly effect slips beyond my control… then it’s better to let Jobs die here.
That was the coldest, most rational judgment I could make.
I respected and admired him, so I truly didn’t want to do that.
But fortunately, Zero’s answer was unexpected.
“If Steve Jobs survives, Apple will certainly grow faster. But the flow of history itself is unlikely to deviate all that much.”
It won’t change much?
“Yes. If Jobs survives, Apple’s new product release cycle is actually likely to be delayed by an average of two to four months compared to the original timeline.”
Delayed? Jobs is the embodiment of drive. Wouldn’t he push things out even faster?
“That’s true, but his core traits—perfectionism and an obsessive drive for better, properly executed functions—will become a bottleneck for Apple.”
Zero continued.
“In the original timeline, after receiving a terminal diagnosis, Jobs compromised somewhat and released products under the pressure of having no time left. But if he regains his health, that pressure disappears. In fact, he once fixated on the internal circuit design of the Macintosh, down to the color of the inside of the case.”
…….
“If Master helps him, then he regains the resource called ‘time.’ In the end, he’ll keep delaying release, trimming, rebuilding, and refining until he’s satisfied. Products that would have been released with a few compromises when he wasn’t around would almost certainly be shelved entirely if Jobs were alive.”
Hearing Zero’s explanation, I could only nod in understanding.
So even then, progress would still be faster.
“Yes. Jobs is a genius. It’s just that dramatic deviations are unlikely.”
Then~
* * *
I’m sorry to hear about the cancer. Losing a genius like you would be a loss for all humanity.
Jobs asked at once, “So… you’ll help?”
[I will.]
Jobs could feel hope rising, but—
[Not for free.]
“…….”
[I want a fitting price.]
Jobs felt Zero was infuriating, and yet, at the same time, he felt relieved.
Zero was a professional.
That meant if he got paid properly, he would definitely do the job right.
“Yes, well, you shouldn’t do business at a loss either. What do you want? Money? Or Apple stock?”
Jobs’s tone shifted back into that of a sharp negotiator.
But despite that, Zero’s voice remained calm.
[I have plenty of money already. Apple stock would be nice, but it’s not a particularly tempting price.]
“Then what do you want?”
Jobs asked again what Zero desired, and then immediately thought of it himself.
“...Another Technology’s search engine, Search. Do you want it installed as the default engine in Apple products?”
[Now that’s quick. Apple’s current default search engine is Google, isn’t it? Change it to Search.]
“…….”
[And unlike Google, we won’t be paying you to install our search engine. On the contrary, we’ll be receiving royalties from Apple.]
Zero’s demand was certainly a big one.
He wanted Apple to pay to install the search engine instead of being paid for it.
But compared to the value of Jobs’s life, it was a drop in the bucket.
If the money from Google disappears, the shareholders will lose their minds… but if I tell them my life is on the line, even the board won’t be able to do anything.
“That works. How much royalty do you want?”
[We can talk about that later. Right now, every second counts.]
“...Fine. But I have a condition too. Do it perfectly. Not a one-percent error. The deadline… I’ll give you two weeks.”
Jobs deliberately pressed him, almost as if applying pressure.
But he already knew.
Zero didn’t need to be pressured.
Again, because he was a pro.
[You don’t need to worry about that. I hate doing sloppy work just as much as you do.]
“Hah… good.”
[Then I’ll send you an email address to this number. Send the file there. Don’t worry about security.]
“I’ll send it as quickly as possible. And.”
[And?]
“...Thank you.”
The simple words of thanks came out awkwardly.
Jobs could barely remember the last time he’d said something like that sincerely to anyone—or even said it as empty politeness.
And then the call with Zero ended.
Buzz.
With that message of salvation, Steve Jobs became friends with Zero on FreeChat.