Game Theory (2)
I nodded.
“If the program is shut down and the person responsible takes the fall and walks away, the company should be able to avoid the worst of the blame.”
Of course, that only worked if Rolf Buchi actually left quietly.
“After that, we’d begin negotiations with Continue Capital over the use of Mimir. We’d either buy the program outright or pay royalties for it. If that fell through, then we’d look at selling.”
“Would there even be a company willing to buy Cooloud?”
“As far as I know, Guble has been in contact with them for a long time.”
AMZ’s ZWS, NS’s Azure, and Guble’s BigStorage were often called the cloud’s big three. But strictly speaking, it was two heavyweights and one weakling. In market share, ZWS held 32 percent and Azure 20, while BigStorage sat at a meager 8 percent.
That was why Guble had been trying to expand its cloud business for years. The easiest and safest way for a latecomer to catch up to the frontrunners was through mergers and acquisitions.
From Guble’s point of view, if it considered the customers Cooloud had already secured and the synergies that would come after an acquisition, it would probably decide the company was worth buying even if it had to swallow some risk.
“Being unable to use Mimir would be a serious blow, but Guble has its own program anyway, so it probably wouldn’t be a major problem.”
“So it’s basically a Bolt-on strategy.”
If a company acquired another business in the same industry whose operations overlapped with its own, it could grow larger and cut costs.
But...
“That’s only possible if nobody interferes during the acquisition, isn’t it?”
David gave a faint snort of laughter.
“So you’re planning to interfere.”
“Guble’s motto is Don’t be evil, isn’t it?”
They’d supposedly coined it in the early days to mean you could make money without doing anything bad. But once they became a giant, they committed all kinds of ruthless acts in the name of money, and later quietly changed it to Do the right thing.
Of course, even after that, they still didn’t do the right thing.
They just did whatever was profitable.
“If they’re going to buy a company rumored to have been founded by stealing a dead friend’s program, wouldn’t that come with a pretty heavy burden?”
“If the price is cheap enough, they can get evil whenever they want.”
He already knew Guble well enough.
“Then we’ll need to file a lawsuit to keep them from selling until the damages issue is resolved.”
David shook his head.
“If it goes to court, the situation gets even more complicated.”
“How long would it take to get a ruling?”
“At least three years. It could drag on as long as ten.”
“By then, the company would be beyond saving.”
“Exactly.”
And then everybody would be ruined.
One of the defining features of the digital industry was monopoly.
A big restaurant opening didn’t drive the small places around it out of business. There was always a limit to how many people it could seat. Once the tables were full, everyone else had to go to a nearby restaurant anyway.
Internet companies were different.
If demand was high, they could just expand their servers. Whether it was a restaurant or an online mall, they could scale without limit to match demand.
If Cooloud got tied up in a lawsuit, other companies would steal its customers and swallow the market whole in the meantime.
That meant we had to acquire it as quickly and as cleanly as possible. For that, we’d have to absorb a certain amount of cost.
“Honestly, the biggest problem is that Cooloud is a private company. Since the two founders hold a majority of the shares, if they dig in their heels and refuse to sell, a hostile M&A is impossible from the start.”
Price only existed when there was both a seller and a buyer. Without a seller, the price would just keep shooting upward forever.
But that didn’t mean there was no way.
“I’m really glad there are two founders.”
David caught my meaning and smiled faintly.
“Game theory?”
One of the most famous concepts in game theory was the prisoner’s dilemma.
Even if everyone involved made a rational choice, that didn’t necessarily produce a rational outcome.
If you wanted what you were after, you had to exploit the gap in the middle.
A high-rise penthouse overlooked San Francisco Bay.
The duplex even had a pool on the terrace.
Just the monthly rent was enough to match the annual salary of a decent office worker. This was Rolf Buchi’s home. Until a few days ago, he’d been throwing parties here with celebrities and models.
So many people wanted to be close to him. So many women wanted to date him.
But now he was alone.
He had countless acquaintances, but no one he could honestly talk to about the situation he was in.
Alone in the dark house, his thoughts spiraled in every direction.
Why did Jason leave those files behind? Did his wife really not know? Why now, of all times? Why are they doing this to me? What the hell did I do wrong?
Regret and resentment came before reflection or guilt.
Jason, who had left the materials behind; Jason’s wife, who had transferred the rights; Han Miru and David Lockhart, who had bought them; Alex, who hadn’t taken his side.
They were all objects of his hatred.
Rolf remembered the look Alex had given him. There had been clear contempt in those eyes.
Alex had told him to rest while he looked for a solution, then disappeared without another word. And all the while, time kept moving forward.
The deadline they had given him was three days.
In three days, who knew what would happen?
Could Alex really find a way in that time?
Born into an ordinary family, he had built the life he wanted entirely through his own efforts.
Everyone admired him. Everyone envied him.
He was Silicon Valley’s rising genius and its brightest star.
Young, handsome, brilliant, an exceptional engineer, rich on top of it all, and gifted with silver-tongued charm. The media focused on him constantly, and even the most trivial post he made on social media turned into an article.
Interview requests and appearance offers flooded in from every direction.
Countless developers and programmers took him as their role model and said they dreamed of becoming like him.
Successful developers were dubbed “the next Rolf Buchi,” and the people who earned that label wore it like a medal.
He enjoyed a popularity more like a Hollywood actor’s or a rock star’s.
And yet...
In the space of a single day, he was about to become a fraud.
Once the truth came out, he would be dragged through the mud by the public, just like Mercedes Watson of Therapis or Brad Button of Thomas Motors.
No, the fall would probably be even harder, because he’d enjoyed a level of fame and popularity far beyond theirs.
Everyone would curse him. Everyone would point at him.
I have to stop that.
But how?
If he had brought this up at the very first meeting, maybe there would still have been a way to deal with it. David Lockhart had been a disgraced investor, and Continue Capital had been an obscure little investment firm.
Even if they exposed him, there would have been only a handful of people willing to listen, and maybe he could have crushed them with capital and reputation.
But in the meantime, David Lockhart had gained enormous fame through the Thomas Motors scandal. If he stepped forward to expose this, every media outlet would splash it across the front page.
“No...”
Losing his reputation and becoming the target of public condemnation was a nightmare so awful it made death seem preferable.
What am I supposed to do?
Then, in an instant, a thought flashed through his mind.
What the other side wanted was Cooloud.
Then maybe he should just give it to them.
Rolf looked at the crumpled business card on his desk. Then, with trembling fingers, he dialed the number printed on it.
I hung up and told David, “Rolf wants to meet.”
“That was quick. I thought he’d hold out for at least two days.”
“He held out longer than I expected.”
“He must be more afraid of the truth coming out than I thought.”
“Everyone has different priorities.”
For Rolf Buchi, the most important thing was his reputation.
If he’d valued money more from the beginning, he never would have created such a weakness in the first place.
Still, thanks to that, I’d been given this opening, so maybe I should thank him.
“Don’t you have something important, too, David?”
He smiled.
“Of course.”
“How important are we talking?”
“More important than my life.”
There wasn’t a trace of falsehood in his expression when he said it.
I already knew what it was.
“What does the boss value most?”
“Hmm...”
“If it’s hard to answer, you don’t have to.”
“No, it’s not that. I just haven’t really thought about it before.”
In my first life, after the company went under, I’d given up on everything and drifted through life without any real thoughts or goals. Time had just passed me by, and before I knew it, I’d entered middle age.
Come to think of it, caring deeply about something was a luxury reserved for people who had worked hard or already had something worth protecting.
So...
“I guess I’ll have to start making some important things for myself.”
David nodded.
“One of them would be Cooloud.”
“I’d like that.”
“How do you plan to negotiate?”
Even in my previous life, I’d only dealt with customers once in a while. This was my first time handling an M&A negotiation. There would be plenty more like this in the future, so I’d have to get used to it now.
“I’ve thought it through a bit, but I’m not sure I can do it well. If I need help, I’ll give you the signal. Then step in.”
“Depending on the situation, I may have to take a pretty hard line.”
“That’s fine. If there’s a good cop in this world, there has to be a bad cop too.”
Rolf Buchi came to the hotel where we were staying.
I met him with David. The moment I saw him, I was startled inwardly.
He was tall and strikingly handsome, so much so that it was hard to believe he worked as a programmer. There were even people who said half his popularity came from his face alone.
Maybe he knew he was handsome, because he’d appeared on broadcasts with enthusiasm and rode that popularity hard.
And yet...
Somehow, in just one day, he looked ten years older.
It was hard to believe he was the same man I’d seen yesterday. His once-proud, lustrous blond hair had turned dull and brittle.
Looking at him, I got the feeling Marie Antoinette syndrome really did exist.
His usual confident expression and the disdainful air he wore around other people had vanished too.
He must have gone through hell over the past day, but I didn’t feel much sympathy. He’d brought it on himself, after all.
I asked calmly, “What did you want to see me about?”
He opened his dry lips and spoke.
“There’s something I want to ask.”
“What is it?”
“How did you find out Jason Kim developed Mimir? That was supposed to be a secret known only to him and me.”
“Well, let’s just say I got lucky.”
It wasn’t a lie.
The fact that I’d regressed at all could be called luck.
He clasped both hands over his head and muttered, “If it hadn’t been for you two, nobody would have found out until the end.”