"Sir, a lot of people are asking us about the commercial uses of high-speed internet."
"Ha, Filson, don't you see? It's just a concept! Besides connecting to our servers, what else does it really do?"
"Ahem, I know that! In fact, they know it too. Based on calculations, they believe this is a solid business opportunity."
"Of course, it's a good business, but I don't plan to hog it all or even have the capacity to. Let them know we still need a year to test the equipment. If it indeed works, we can collaborate."
William White wasn't planning to delay. On the contrary, time was of the essence, and he didn't want to fall behind. The internet at that time merely allowed for email exchanges and browsing BBS, so speed requirements weren't all that high.
Some even thought 28K was just fine and completely sufficient. However, when they discovered that the White Center could already handle video calls, they realized they were using ADSL for transmission.
Without getting too deep into the speeds, plenty of folks wanted video calls, and that demand was real. Interestingly, there was no conflict between the two needs.
This wasn't a simple case of one plus one equals two; through discussions, they even knew that video calls could reach distances of dozens of kilometers. According to Bell Labs, if you could run fiber optic cables to the moon, they could achieve synchronous connections.
...
William White was working hard; filming for Goldeneye was progressing slowly, making his employees at White Films feel quite uneasy. When did their boss start changing his style?
They certainly didn't know that the boss was now seeking a breakthrough, and needed to focus on the details. Some plots and dialogues were being scrutinized repeatedly. He was setting out to create high-quality films, no longer settling for those quick and cheap productions.
Their levels were too low to see it, but directors like Lucas and Spielberg had already recognized it. In their eyes, it wouldn't be long before William White climbed into the ranks of top-tier directors.
Of course, if others outside found out these thoughts, they would likely end up ridiculed. To the onlookers, William White was already a top-tier director. Those Hollywood folks were welcome to try and compete with his box office.
Every time Lucas thought of William White's box office pull, he was filled with jealousy and resentment. The global box office for Raiders of the Lost Ark had surpassed 300 million dollars, and given the current momentum, there seemed to be more room for growth.
...
On July 3 1988, Iran Air Flight 655 was shot down by the U.S. Navy cruiser USS Vincennes cruiser because the Airbus A300 was mistakenly identified as an F-14 fighter jet.
Watching the news broadcast, William White felt a surge of frustration. "Good grief, do these people have no shame?"
To William's eyes, that captain had gone mad. How else could one justify attacking a civilian target? Sure, the other side acted like jerks too, attacking tankers was definitely out of line. But when did the world become so brutal? Is an eye for an eye the only answer we've got?
"Sir, Washington hopes we can handle this news quietly."
"Yeah, I got that," he replied.
William felt irked. He frowned at the idea of burying the truth. Lies were always lies; sooner or later, they would come out into the open. This current falsehood would ultimately become a joke.
However, NBC really couldn't afford to get too serious; that was classic political incorrectness. All they could do was try to minimize reporting.
It was astounding that the Vincennes, equipped with the Aegis system, couldn't recognize a large passenger plane. This was no laughing matter. The American public didn't realize what Aegis represented now, but they sure would in the future.
"Sir, think tank analysis shows that Washington has run out of patience. This is a serious warning. If negotiations don't improve, the U.S. may take sides."
"Take sides, ha! Filson, you've got to be joking. The one who blew up the supertanker was a fool; they're already taking sides. What did the think tank conclude?"
"War will end."
"Well, that's not the worst news; at least gas prices won't fluctuate anymore. With all this chaos, nobody can handle too many shocks."
William cursed silently, wondering whose blasted idea this decision had been.
"Filson, that Aegis came from General Electric, right? If it's this unreliable, can we short-sell it?"
Filson shook his head, chuckling bitterly. His boss was always thinking outside the box.
"Sir, there might be some downturn, but this is a product of U.S. Radio, which has been acquired by General. It's different now; short-selling might not amount to much."
"Alright then. Just give them a heads-up. If the radar is so unreliable, they better start taking it seriously."
...
What William didn't know was that big firms were seething. They could pass the blame all they wanted, but the Aegis system was a big deal, costing hundreds of millions for just the basic package, not including the missiles.
"Sir, General Electric suddenly hit a short-selling wave, with shares dropping over 5%."
"Who did it?"
"Looks like it was the White Fund, but it was a brief dip and they closed position. Not sure what they were up to."
"Up to?" The old man laughed angrily. What could that punk be up to? Just stirring the pot for fun.
"Forget it. Ignore them. If there are any follow-ups, let me know immediately."
The head of General Electric was even angrier. That punk had snatched NBC from them, and now he was rubbing salt in their wounds; that was just too much.
What really irked him was that he had to endure it. NBC wasn't saying anything, but if he spoke out, they might have a field day mocking the Aegis.
In agreement with William's think tank's assessment, both sides finally decided to call a ceasefire to avoid being clobbered by the U.S.
...
As tensions eased in the desert regions, the economy began to warm up again. The only thing bothering was that their rivals seemed to be moving ahead once again.
"Sir, here's a sample of the PS2. The $299 price seems a bit steep; the memory costs are still high."
"We'll wait. Let the game development team speed it up; the 8-bit games are pretty much dead anyway."
Tom didn't hide his feelings. Not only were they dead, but the U.S. game industry was wiped out. If they unveiled a 16-bit system now, no one would care.
So, William's ability to look down on his employees had some merit; he figured nobody would be interested. As soon as they saw someone making money, a crowd would rush in, eager to cash in.
"I got it, sir."
"And speed up the progress for the PS3 too. Remember, Tom, the 16-bit console is just a stopgap. Most of our workforce can transition now. We need 32-bit technology to really tackle graphics and sound issues."
"Don't worry, sir, we won't fall behind."
After sending Tom away, William decided to play a game. Though it was still pretty rough, it was a vast improvement over the PS1. At least the graphics were a bit more polished.
With the London factory nearing completion, memory prices were set to take a nosedive.
In the current scenario, competitors didn't dare quibble over the outsourcing prices. That old Moore's Law made sense -- if one megabyte of memory became commonplace, everything else would surely depreciate. In fact, Toshiba was already developing 64-megabyte memory, and if the U.S. hadn't taken a hit, efficiency would've significantly increased.
...
"Michelle, your scenes are wrapping up. I suggest you learn something systematically during your downtime."
"Darling, I'm not smart; my language skills are still lacking."
"Don't be silly, it's not that tough. Just practice speaking more. For example, you could learn a bit from me right now."
"No way! What kind of vocabulary do I have? I'd just be fooling around."
"Come on, you could try. While we're getting cozy, you could recite some Shakespeare."
"Pfft! You're so bad!"
As he strayed further down the path of self-indulgence, he wondered about the consequences -- whatever, as long as he was having fun.
*****
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