[The characters, places, organizations, events, and the like appearing in this work have no relation whatsoever to reality and are fictional creations born of the author’s imagination.]
――――――――――
July 23, 1979, California
California in 1979 was still a place more deeply steeped in the sweet, dusty scent of orange groves than in the polished name of Silicon Valley. If one expected sleek, stylish glass buildings from the future, one would be mistaken. In Henry’s eyes, this place was nothing more than a backwater village kicking up clouds of dirt.
At this time, Silicon Valley was no more than an infant just beginning to stir. Even Stanford, far from the world-class standing it would one day possess, was merely a prestigious university recognized in the western region. It was an era when engineers were praised not in Silicon Valley of the West, but at MIT in the East, and the giant technology companies had also made their nests in eastern metropolises like New York and Connecticut.
Henry sat in the passenger seat of the convertible prepared by the trust agent, adjusted his sunglasses, and leaned back. For California, it was a day of record-breaking heat, reaching 34 degrees Celsius. The reason he had chosen this car instead of a luxury vehicle with cool air-conditioning like a Rolls-Rice was purely because of the “vibe.”
‘I’m on my way to buy the [Orange] of vibes, so I ought to match the mood at least. But convertible or whatever, it’s seriously fucking hot. I want to switch over to one of the security cars following in front and behind right now...’
Under the blazing sun, the open car carrying Henry and the black [Port] Econoline vans escorting him drove for a long while from the airport. Around the time he had adjusted his sunglasses, swaying in the wind, dozens of times, the low buildings of Cupertino appeared in the distance, wavering like a heat haze. The [Orange] company and data kingdom that would someday be worth thousands of trillions of won were still catching their breath in dusty warehouses and cramped offices.
The first destination was 1 Bandley Drive, the current headquarters of [Orange]. Henry got out of the open car, roughly straightened his clothes, which had been ruined by the wind, and slowly looked over the building that would become a site of history.
‘Honestly, the building looks pretty shabby. Still, if I think that the ancestor of Orange’s legendary [Mak (MAK)], the Mackinto, will come out of here, it somehow starts to look all right...’
As soon as he entered the lobby, what assaulted his nose was not the scent of sophisticated perfume, but the acrid burnt smell of soldering irons and the lingering odor of cold pizza slices. In one corner stood a [BMV] motorcycle, oddly on display and utterly out of place with its surroundings, and beyond it was a young man with a shaggy beard and bare feet. It was the twenty-four-year-old Steven Watts.
He swept his gaze over Henry’s party with eyes like a stray cat wary of intruders. Perhaps the sight of a suited young master accompanied by six bodyguards and even a personal secretary did not sit well with him, for sharp words sprang from Watts’s mouth first.
“I hear you want to invest. How much do you know about our technology? No, can you even imagine how this machine is going to change the world?”
Hearing Watts’s arrogant and rude tone, Henry burst into laughter despite himself. It seemed that the prickly personality he had seen and heard about in his previous life had gone nowhere. Henry looked at him as if amused and replied.
“Ah, that I know very well. But I have no intention of telling you for free. Hahaha. More importantly, I tried using the you made, and it was rather well made. Of course, you still have a very long way to go. If you want to hear my insight, why don’t you ask after signing the contract first?”
“Hah, not interested! It’ll just be useless meddling. More importantly, are the previously agreed waiver of voting rights and advertising support in [The Time] certain? Just tell me that.”
“Pfft, fine. If you’re not curious, so be it. David, who came with me, will explain the detailed terms. We aim to be ‘angelic’ investors, you see. We don’t need things like voting rights. We have no intention of interfering, either. In exchange, all you need to agree to is our preemptive investment right in the event of equity dilution.”
Henry gave a glance to David from the think tank’s future team and had him deal with Watts, then turned his gaze to the hairy man who had been quietly listening beside them, “Steve Wozniik.”
“How about you? Are you curious?”
“The VCs have been hounding us something awful lately. Thanks to that, Watts has been a bit on edge. But I am curious. Ah, I’m Steve Wozniik. Nice to meet you.”
Henry took Wozniik’s rough, oily hand and smiled lightly.
“Henry Devenzer. I was certain after handling the . If Watts was the one who worried over the machine’s exterior and marketing, then the one who breathed a soul into this cold lump of metal was you.”
‘Yeah. I watched Orange videos on NewTube so memorably that I still remember them vividly. I also looked through the documents they investigated before I came, and you really did everything except the marketing, didn’t you?’
Wozniik’s eyes grew round. Henry tapped the PC tower proudly placed in the lobby and continued.
“The report said that Watts tried to limit the expansion slots to two. It was your stroke of genius that stubbornly pushed it all the way to eight. Thanks to that, this machine became not a simple calculator, but an infinite canvas on which the user could draw anything.”
“You... recognized that.”
“Is that all? Instead of sticking on a bunch of expensive chips, you broke down the boundary between software and hardware and dramatically reduced the number of parts. That elegant design, drawing maximum efficiency from the minimum number of components. That is beyond engineering and into the realm of art. You are not merely an engineer, but the Michelangelo of the digital age.”
Wozniik’s face reddened as he gave an awkward smile, but his eyes shone with joy. To a man who had spent his whole life wrestling with machines, the appearance of an investor who saw through his design philosophy at a glance was a shock more thrilling than any check for a vast sum of money. Just as Henry was about to offer one more piece of advice, David and Watts, having finished negotiations, approached.
“With terms like these, well, hmph. Let’s go write up the contract. Woz, what about you? Are you in favor?”
“Watts, I think Mr. Devenzer is the investor who fits us best! Of course I’m in favor. And let’s go together. I’m far too curious about this insight he’s talking about.”
When Wozniik expressed his opinion in an uncharacteristically firm tone, Watts looked momentarily surprised, but soon turned away as if it were nothing. He strode ahead toward the conference room he had originally prepared to receive guests.
When David looked bewildered at that arrogant back, Wozniik gave a bitter smile and made an excuse as he guided the group.
“It seems he’s going to prepare the contract first. Now then, I’ll show you the way. Please come this way.”
Only then were Henry, David, and the bodyguards able to leave the lobby filled with that acrid smell. When they arrived at the conference room, Watts, who had already taken a seat, pushed the contract toward Henry before he could even sit down and opened his mouth as though doing them a favor.
‘This isn’t even the peak of his arrogance yet, it’s the very beginning, and he’s already this bad? No wonder he gets kicked out...’
“Five million dollars for five percent equity. No more.”
“Well, fine. David, review the contract and check whether there are any unusual clauses.”
David did not even sit down, snatching up the documents and rapidly scanning them. After digging through the clauses with veteran skill, he soon nodded.
“It is a standard contract. As Watts said, five million dollars for five percent equity, with the condition of placing at least one advertisement per year in [The Time] for three years, and aside from the waiver of voting rights clause, there are no particular toxic clauses.”
“So they’re already agreed-upon terms. Give it here.”
Without hesitation, Henry boldly scrawled his signature on the contract. He then took out the trust account check from [Chate Manhattan] Bank that he had prepared in advance, filled in the exact amount and his signature, and handed it to Watts.
Having finished his business, Henry approached Wozniik, who was faintly smiling beside him, covered his mouth with his hand so those around them could not hear, and quietly offered him one piece of advice.
Ordinarily, when an investment of this scale was concluded, it would be followed by a noisy press conference or a splendid after-party, but perhaps thanks to Watts’s eccentric temperament, this [Orange] investment did not even come with so much as a common welcome cup of coffee. Henry, as if finding it cleaner that way, gathered up the contract and left the company building without lingering.
Inside the office left behind, Watts could not hide his excitement as he waved the check.
“[The Time]! It’s [The Time], of all places! Our ad is going to be published in that stuck-up magazine that won’t run you even if you bring bags of money! Henry? I don’t much like that guy’s personality, but the terms are truly a work of art!”
“Hmm... Well, if it’s [The Time]...”
“It’s not just at the level of being published. Three times over three years! It’s the back page of [The Time], or a full-page ad on the first page inside! This is a golden slot that dinosaurs like [Port] and [IBN] wage reservation wars over from a year in advance. The moment our ad goes there, [Orange]’s standing changes! Woz, this contract is a genuinely insane gain. More importantly......!”
Unable to stand the sight of Wozniik, who still wore a dazed expression as if letting his words pass right through him, Watts shouted in irritation.
“Woz! What on earth did you hear that’s had you spacing out since earlier?”
“Well... I’m not sure. That man Henry suddenly told me to think about fonts.”
“Fonts? You mean letter shapes? Hah! Is he crazy? We’re at the point where we’re shaving down chips because every single byte of memory is precious, and he wants us to waste resources on such a luxurious thing?”
[Watts] snorted and gathered up the contract. But [Wozniik] thought differently. Henry’s eyes had not been those of a madman. Rather, they had been calm and full of certainty, as if he had already seen the future decades from now.
“Woz, your machine is perfect. But people don’t buy computers simply to look at heaps of numbers. In the end, they buy them to look at letters. If there’s space left in one corner of the board, try thinking about a library that can draw elegant fonts instead of stiff calculator logic. Because the world will be more enthusiastic about a machine that can print the most beautiful invitation in the world than about an elaborate calculator.”
‘A beautiful invitation, huh...’
Over his precise circuit diagrams, Wozniik saw a vision of graceful, curving letters he had never once imagined, settling down like butterflies. And that was, in fact, a function he would create in the future.