Chapter 48: The Springtime of the Semiconductor Industry

The semiconductor industry, in truth, was the last straw—a turning point for the American economy’s transformation. Unfortunately, the Americans failed to recognize this, or perhaps they did, but had no way to prevent the outflow of technology; as long as it wasn’t exported to the Russians, everything else was permitted.

The Americans understood well enough that, relying on their laughable manufacturing capacity, the widespread adoption of personal computers was likely a distant dream. Their junior ally, Japan, was undoubtedly fortunate. The Japanese were ideally suited to manufacture all sorts of electronic products—cars, motorcycles, and home appliances—all learned from the West. In the end, their teachers met with miserable fates, thoroughly bested by their students.

Now, Uncle Sam had a new toy, and it was a marvelous thing; he had to find a way to get his hands on it. Americans loved to buy out patents. If the Japanese were willing to pay, they wouldn’t hesitate to sell; securing cash was the sensible path. If they delayed, some other company might snatch it up. They never anticipated that their own memory factories would eventually collapse, and the paltry income from selling patents wouldn’t even cover severance pay for the workers.

They amused themselves by mocking White Software, who had given up a fortune in US dollars in order to share profits with the Japanese. Many years later, America finally learned this approach; by then, White Software had become a behemoth, and they had clearly squandered a golden opportunity to rise.

While the large computer companies were still wrestling with their own development directions, they were stunned to discover that microcomputers had already gone international. White Software not only resolved Europe’s minor language issues, but also tackled Asian character input. With the Chinese Character Card-equipped Apple II, they were unbeatable; a flood of Asian orders quickly pushed their sales to thirty thousand units per month.

No one could sit still after that. Other small-language nations were clearly infuriated—a small company could solve the problem, yet their own firms claimed it was impossible. With Asia’s production soaring, Apple began to consider Japanese manufacturers. White Software’s licensing model was attractive; though five percent didn’t seem much, it was steady and reliable.

“Macula, our third-generation machine must include this multilingual feature,” Joe said, his face urgent.

Macula looked troubled and replied helplessly, “Jobs, I’m afraid it’s not so simple. This so-called Chinese Character Card involves a whole slew of patents—we can’t just use it outright.”

“Damn it, what a bastard—he’s blocking humanity’s progress,” Joe said, his expression dark and bitter.

“Come on, Joe, it isn’t that serious. The licensing fee isn’t high. We’re still negotiating the details.”

Joe’s mouth twitched with frustration; he was truly infuriated. In his view, such things should be open—Chinese characters weren’t his invention, so what right did he have to charge for them?

By now, William White had utterly abandoned all pretense; anything was negotiable for money, and if you had none, you could leave. These Chinese characters were enough to make anyone sick—hardly an easy task.

Fortunately, the people of the Celestial Empire were cultured, unlike the idiotic John Bull. Good grief, every word had a different spelling. If you knew three thousand English words, you were practically semi-literate; but if you knew three thousand Chinese characters, you could easily write simple stories without a hitch. In English, without ten thousand words, you couldn’t even compose basic fiction. Japanese was even more absurd—there were over a dozen ways to say “I.”

And then there was the mighty Gallic Rooster—their numbers were incomprehensible; one moment they followed a certain logic, the next they were completely transformed. So don’t expect much from their mathematical abilities.

Without cash registers, they simply couldn’t conduct business. This was a true story: the writer once visited Paris, in a rural area, to buy something. Their supermarket’s cash register was broken, and so tragedy ensued. Three bottles of beer and two donuts—three employees spent five minutes calculating, and every time the result was different.

Luckily, the writer had plenty of small change and bought one item at a time; finally, it was resolved. The cashier complained, though the writer couldn’t fully understand, the gist was, “Why didn’t you show us this method sooner?”

A child in the Celestial Empire could calculate that in under a minute; anyone slower would be considered foolish. It’s truly baffling how their technology is so advanced—do they not need arithmetic?

In the future, convenience stores worldwide might be run by people from the Celestial Empire; at least in Europe and America, the advantage is overwhelming and no one else can compete.

The movie filming had wrapped up; only a few snow scenes needed reshooting. If time was tight, his team would handle it. If they couldn’t manage such simple tasks, they’d be fired without hesitation.

Though he hadn't seen the husky for a while, the little creature remained affectionate. The family took good care of it; at least nothing had been destroyed.

The husky was actually well-behaved; its mischief stemmed from the owner’s absence. If it got enough exercise, it was usually quite obedient.

William White had a mischievous streak, keeping the husky and a cat together. The American Shorthair was unafraid, often smacking the husky with a paw; the husky would then roll over and whimper. Clearly, it had no hope of guarding the house—it couldn’t even handle the cat.

When the owner jumped into the pool, the husky followed without hesitation. As a dog from a cold region, it was uncomfortable in California’s heat.

Thanks to this troublemaker, William White didn’t swim long before getting out. Oddly enough, though William White had been gone for some time and the husky was usually cared for by servants, upon his return the husky ignored the servants entirely. Despite its silly nature, the husky was fiercely loyal to its owner; if only it were a bit smarter, it would be a truly good dog.

“Foster, how are our shipments?”

Foster replied with a smile, “Good. We’ve moved twenty percent here in America without attracting any attention.”

“Excellent. London isn’t a worry—it’s America where trouble might arise.”

“Our traders are cautious, and recent trading volumes are high. They won’t notice easily.”

“Alright, understood. Foster, go buy a plane. See if there’s a suitable 747. With the economy this bad, some people might be unlucky—maybe they ordered one but can’t afford to pay.”

“Certainly, young master. I’ll have the family inquire and see what’s available.”

William White used planes frequently; the Bombardier was too small, and he disliked its appearance. Besides, four engines felt safer—it was unlikely all four would fail. Reportedly, as long as one worked, the plane could land safely.

When it came to aircraft, William White felt extremely insecure. There was no A380 yet; otherwise, he wouldn’t even consider a 747—the bigger the plane, the safer it seemed.

Whether psychological or genuinely safer, William White decided to buy a giant toy; at least it looked more secure.