Chapter Fourteen: A Pile of Patents

The reporter exposed all his absurdities for the world to see. The various scandals were almost unbearable to look at. Yet, what surprised everyone even more was that William White’s popularity not only did not decline, it actually soared. His novels continued to sell briskly.

Intellectuals are often a bit eccentric; after all, this is just someone experiencing life. Besides, the man is still so young—if he acted overly mature and steady at his age, that would be truly unsettling. Readers enjoy immersing themselves in a story, and if an author is too aloof, they may not be so fond of him.

Now things are just right—William White is a rascal, a wayward youth whose creative inspiration was triggered by sudden misfortune. It’s easy for readers to relate to that. In fact, this fellow’s situation is rather pitiful: at such a young age, he’s lost both parents and now faces bullying from a powerful clan.

And those damn banks—truly outrageous. In these times, countless people have lost their businesses because of the banks. William White’s fate is a reflection of many people’s real-life experiences.

Those dozens of banks now found themselves in an awkward position. He no longer even discussed tightening credit with them—he simply accused them of being in collusion with the Hunter family. Such an allegation was truly terrifying.

William White paid them no heed; he no longer needed loans. That was all just a show for others.

“Uncle Fu, have you found a patent attorney?”

“They’ll be here tomorrow, young master. It won’t interfere with your work.”

“There are a great many patents in this batch. Make sure everything is arranged as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, young master. They’re all professionals with extensive experience in this area.”

William White was busy, checking the software repeatedly. Although it was still rather rudimentary, in this era, it was something entirely new—sure to be snapped up by the market.

“Everyone, hang in there for another month or so. We’ll be moving to Silicon Valley soon—that’s where we truly belong.”

“Understood, boss. We’ve checked this stuff many times. There won’t be a problem.”

“Thank you for your hard work. These are just for the Apple system; you’ll need to prepare for the other systems too. Whether this company can take off depends on this round.”

“Don’t worry, boss. We’ll finish as soon as possible.”

“Very good, keep pushing. My company has an equity incentive plan. Your future mansions and villas are riding on this. Work hard—I’m not joking.”

The group, as if injected with adrenaline, threw themselves into their work with renewed vigor.

In the land of capital, sentiment is a waste of time; the most effective way to motivate people is with pure self-interest.

Uncle Fu didn’t know exactly what his young master was working on, but it was obvious he was investing his whole heart in it.

Watching this group get so excited, it was clear this venture was something extraordinary. All these rascals had been poached with high salaries—anything that could excite them was bound to be significant. It seemed the White family was on the rise. Miss and the young master’s in-laws would surely be delighted.

Faced with a mountain of patent applications, the two attorneys responsible were utterly bewildered. This workload would keep them busy for a month. As for what these things were for, they honestly didn’t care. They billed by the hour—the more they handled, the more they earned.

In these days, selling computer software was about as sophisticated as selling goods at an old electronics market. Packaging and promotion were both abysmal.

Even running ads was difficult—there simply weren’t the right media channels. In most people’s eyes, calculators and computers were essentially the same thing. In fact, computers were considered less useful than word processors and typewriters.

To change this awkward situation, enhancing computer output was crucial.

Computers of this era lacked printer interfaces, which seriously limited their use.

Fortunately, these issues were no longer a problem—William White had devised perfect solutions. At least the Apple II could fully support them. Steve Jobs would surely be delighted to see these innovations.

The Apple founders, in fact, were currently troubled. Business was decent, but user experience was dreadful.

In this era, software was still an elite pursuit. Programmers weren’t as plentiful or cheap as they would be in later years. Forget about PhDs and master’s degrees—finding a bachelor’s graduate was already impressive. College students at this time were truly the cream of the crop.

Computer science was a hot major, and without a solid foundation, you couldn’t get in.

Getting a college education in America was an extravagant affair. Without a scholarship, you might as well not bother—the tuition would bankrupt you.

American parents, with the exception of the wealthy and Asian families, really didn’t support their kids much.

After turning eighteen, young people had to support themselves. The middle class fared a bit better, but ordinary folks had no real options.

Want to go to college?

Fine—get a job and pay your own way, or serve in the military for a couple of years. In short: take care of your own business.

White Petroleum resumed trading, and with the Hunter family no longer playing tricks, the stock price naturally couldn’t hold. It slid down to around $2.30.

With that, the Hunter family found themselves trapped. Now, not only could they not cash out, they might even be forced to buy more.

An open plot is often impossible to counter—unlike a conspiracy, which loses its sting once exposed. An open move, even if you see it coming, leaves you no choice but to confront it directly.

William White’s software would not be so crude. Proper packaging and technical documentation were essential—a bare disk could never sell for a hundred dollars. Failing to respect your customers is also failing to respect yourself.

As for these adapter cards, he had no way to produce them himself and could only opt for OEMs.

No wonder America isn’t suited for manufacturing. A simple printer adapter card cost over $150!

It was infuriating, but there was no other option. It was too late to find manufacturers in Japan now.

No wonder Americans loved selling licenses—they couldn’t make money manufacturing themselves. Why not just collect royalties? Easy and carefree.

Luckily, that wasn’t his focus. He might as well license out the adapter cards. Never mind that the margins were huge—by the time you factored in inventory, there was hardly any profit left.

“Uncle Fu, have someone produce these items.”

“How many, young master?”

“Twenty thousand units of each official version, five thousand of the others.”

“Yes, young master. I’ll arrange it right away.”

Uncle Fu was speechless; he simply couldn’t wrap his head around it. What, exactly, was the young master selling that could command such high profits? Robbing banks probably wasn’t this lucrative.

If it were a one-time deal, that would be one thing, but the young master clearly intended to keep at it—otherwise, why file for so many patents?

No, he had to keep a close eye on these patents. This was an exclusive business. No wonder the young master had little interest in oil—this was far more profitable.

Uncle Fu’s reasoning wasn’t wrong. Over the years, the industry’s giants had all focused on mainframes.

What were personal PCs? Just foolish game machines, nothing more.