[The characters, places, organizations, events, and so on appearing in this work have no relation whatsoever to reality and are fictional creations of the author’s imagination.]
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‘Watts was the same, and this place is just as consistent. How can the repertoire from the documentaries and novels I saw in the future be exactly the same?’
Having wrapped up his investment in [Orange] in less than an hour, Henry had lunch at a nearby restaurant and headed straight for a company called [RSI]. In the sizzling heat of Menlo Park, Henry once again reproached himself for choosing the convertible. With the engine heat pouring from the hulking Ford Econoline security vehicles lined up in front and behind him added on top, the asphalt had become a veritable festival of shimmering heat haze.
‘I tried to go for style and nearly got myself killed. On the way back, I’m taking the security car with the air-conditioning blasting, no matter what.’
The moment Henry got out of the car, the door of the old building flew open as if it might break, and a man came running out, drenched in sweat. It was thirty-five-year-old Gary Ellison. Perhaps he had seen Henry’s luxurious convertible and imposing security convoy from afar, because he grabbed Henry’s hand as if welcoming the savior he had been waiting for his entire life.
“Wonderful to meet you! Mr. Devenzer! Welcome. It’s terribly hot outside, isn’t it? At least the air-conditioning is running inside!”
The interior of the building had a decidedly different atmosphere from [Orange]. Unlike those guys working like hippies in a warehouse-style office, the [RSI] office was charged with a taut tension, like a bunker on the eve of a storm.
Gary led Henry straight to the president’s office. It was a shabby little space with piles of documents stacked like mountains in the cramped room, but Gary’s manner was as courteous as if he were receiving the emperor of Wall Street. No sooner had he handed Henry a glass of cold water than his rapid-fire company PR began.
“What we at [RSI] are making is not just some ordinary program. It’s the world’s first commercial relational database! Even [IBN] only talked about it in papers, but we actually implemented it. Why do you think the CIA took our product? Because it’s the only tool that can find the needle you want in an ocean of information in just one second!”
‘He said in interviews that this was the hardest time for him, and I guess it was true. But this repertoire is exactly like the novel. Watts at least played hard to get a little, but this man is practically dripping with desperation.’
Henry leisurely watched Gary’s impassioned speech, which was mixed with exaggeration. Three people had founded the company with 2,000 dollars, and it was now only in its second year. Even though they had deceitfully released their first product under the name “Version 2” out of fear that it would not sell, sales were miserable.
They had barely managed to open a channel for government deliveries, but the United States government was notorious for how slowly it made payments. With overdue rent and employee salaries, it would not have been strange if they had to shut their doors tomorrow. The VCs of this period spent money on visible hardware, but they were appallingly stingy with software, which could not be touched and was not protected by patent law. It was a lawless zone where there was no way to stop someone from blatantly copying a program and changing only its name.
In the end, the VCs offered gangster-like terms—“a pittance of an investment in exchange for the whole stake”—and Gary, a lump of greed, could not accept that. Thanks to that, he was destined to go nearly ten more years without receiving a single investment, surviving day by day through credit-card juggling and fraudulent sales pitches claiming that “all the functions have already been implemented.”
Given the situation, it was only natural that Gary was desperate to grab hold of a big investor by any means necessary. This insane angel(?) investor said that, except for certain conditions—abstaining in disputes between cofounders—he would give the voting rights to Gary. In particular, even the sole condition attached, “guaranteed top priority investment rights in the event of dilution of the held stake,” was something Gary regarded as insurance. If things got difficult, he saw Henry as a reliable bottomless pot from which he could always squeeze out more money by handing over a little more equity.
Gary’s eyes gleamed as he poured out the advantages of the product. Henry silently listened to his lengthy explanation, then, seizing the moment when Gary paused to catch his breath, spoke indifferently.
“Sounds good. Let’s sign.”
“Y-yes… Yes?! Already?”
Gary doubted his own ears. Henry took a check from his pocket and wrote down an enormous sum that made the 2,000 dollars Gary had invested at the time of the company’s founding look ridiculous—a full 1 million dollars. For Gary, who had lamented to his partner that he would be grateful even if they could receive 300,000 dollars on the high end, it was an amount beyond imagination. The number was so shocking that the first thing out of his mouth was something completely off the mark.
“W-we have no intention of selling the company…”
Even as he said it, Gary wavered inwardly at the temptation: ‘For 1 million dollars, should I just sell it and do something else?’ That was how brutal his recent financial hardship had been.
“Of course, I have no intention of buying the company and running it as a subsidiary. If I did that, I feel that venomous passion of yours would cool off. I’ll take exactly 40 percent of the shares. In return, just as you explained to me now, don’t lose the ambition to use that database to build a major corporation that enters the Fortune 500.”
Gary Ellison swallowed dryly as he looked at the amount on the check. With this money, he could not only pay the overdue rent, but immediately recruit ten of Silicon Valley’s finest engineers and still have plenty left over.
“Mr. Devenzer, you are truly… either insane, or an angel sent by God.”
Gary continued, overcome with emotion.
“The VC bastards who came by last month threatened us, saying software had no value and demanding we hand over half the company. But you’re different. You recognize its value, and you’re even guaranteeing management control! With sincerity like this, I have to repay you properly. Even if I have to tighten the noose around my partners’ necks, I’ll make sure the 40 percent stake is handed over!”
Gary spoke with tragic resolve, as if he were cutting off a piece of his own flesh, but Henry smiled as he watched the greedy gleam in his eyes remain unchanged. It gave him a strange certainty that the situation had not changed the man; he had simply been that sort of person from the beginning. As long as Gary was in charge, [Yuracle] was certain to grow into the empire of the future.
Less than five minutes after Gary left the room, the number “40” had been written into the contract, and only after David finished his meticulous review did Henry complete his signature. By the time Henry, who had politely refused even a meal and coffee, got into the car and left, stopping Gary from standing outside and waving him off had become harder than deciding on the investment.
Henry maintained the romance of the open-top car until they were some distance from the company building, but the moment they entered a street where it was no longer visible to the naked eye, he immediately switched to the security car with the air-conditioning blasting. Only then did he feel alive again.
Originally, he had planned to tour Hollywood and [Universal] Studios, then spend the night at the Beverly Hills mansion where he had lived before coming to New York. But California’s scorching heat evaporated Henry’s desire for sightseeing in an instant.
‘I can tour later by buying the studio with money. For now, survival comes first.’
Henry canceled the rest of his schedule entirely and headed straight for the Beverly Hills mansion. Compared to the main family residence where he currently lived, it was on the level of a modest(?) villa, but from Henry’s perspective, it was still a fully overwhelming mansion.
The murderous heat wave of July 1979 was no exception even on the hills of Beverly Hills. But the instant the Ford Econoline carrying Henry passed through the heavy iron gate, the texture of the air changed as if by magic.
This was the residence where Henry had stayed before leaving for the main family home in New York. In his memories, he had called it a small dwelling, but in reality, it was a “Palace” itself, located on one of the highest elevations in Beverly Hills.
“We’ve arrived, boss.”
The place where the bodyguard in the driver’s seat stopped the car was at the end of a marble driveway that seemed to have no end. The mansion spread out before his eyes boasted a grandeur less like a house than an entire Roman temple transplanted whole. Massive white marble columns firmly supported the roof, and the white exterior walls, reflecting California’s fierce sunlight, shone so brilliantly that they hurt the eyes.
As soon as the car door opened, butlers in neatly arranged suits stood in a line and bowed with disciplined precision.
“Master Henry, you must be tired from the long journey. We have adjusted the indoor temperature to a pleasant 68 degrees Fahrenheit, or 20 degrees Celsius.”
The moment he stepped inside the mansion, the hellish heat outside was washed away like an unreal dream. Cool air brushed his skin, and a faint citrus scent lingered in the air. The front of the living room was made entirely of glass from floor to ceiling, so all of Beverly Hills and the distant coastline of the Pacific seemed to lie below like a garden at his feet.
“Haha, it may feel a little lonely for the two of you to stay here, but it is only a modest villa less than a quarter the size of the main residence, so please be generous in your understanding.”
At the butler’s joking humility, even the security team and David, who had maintained expressionless faces, swallowed dumbfounded laughs. Twelve bedrooms, over twenty bathrooms, and an Olympic-standard outdoor infinity pool filtered twenty-four hours a day spread out right in front of the living room, and he called this modest. The water of the pool gave off a blue light as if jewels had been melted into it, embracing the California sunset.
Henry sank deep into the soft leather sofa.
“This is enough. There’s no need to suffer in this heat by going to Hollywood or Universal Studios and mingling with crowds. Hah, now I finally feel alive. Isn’t that scenery itself basically Hollywood?”
‘Drinking champagne here is much more cinematic than looking around fake sets.’
Henry took a sip of cold champagne from the crystal glass the butler had brought. Inside this dazzling fortress, where his past-life self could never have set foot even on the threshold of the gate no matter how hard he worked for his entire life, Henry enjoyed a rare rest as he imagined what vast forests the seeds of [Orange] and [Yuracle] he had sown would grow into.
‘I’ll have to buy more [Orange] later. But I really want to watch the legendary board meeting where [Watts] gets kicked out in real time… Since the condition is non-exercise of voting rights, I probably can’t attend under the trust’s name, can I? Should I buy around 5 percent separately under my own name later and go watch it in person?’
The reason Henry had chosen “non-exercise of voting rights” for Stephen Watts and “delegation” for Gary Ellison was clear. It was true that Watts was a legendary figure, but without those years of endurance he experienced after being driven out of the company he had founded, Henry wondered whether he would truly have become the same icon in the future.
‘Even with just this much success, his arrogance is already piercing the sky. If he becomes even more successful, it’s obvious where the end of that arrogance will be. Even as a kind of preventive shot, getting kicked out once will be good for his life, too.’