Chapter 97: Mistakenly Entering a Chatroom of Great Masters, and Giving Advice to Jobs?

The last time he bought a computer, Zhang Tianfeng casually asked how much it would cost to get online. Gu Zai had told him that in Hong Kong, first you needed to verify your identity, then wait in line to pay, and even the cheapest package would cost tens of thousands of Hong Kong dollars; by the time your turn came, it would probably be half a year later. As for getting online inland, it was even more difficult. You had to find connections, pull strings, and it was a far more troublesome process.

Zhang Tianfeng immediately dismissed the idea. He decided to let his employees get used to computers first, store information about talented individuals, and wait until the internet boom of ’95 before tackling the matter.

Now, trapped in the villa, he thought that if he had a computer connected to the internet, while it might not save him, at least he could look up a lot of the information he wanted.

He touched the back of the monitor, which was still warm, indicating that Daisuke Huitian had used the computer earlier.

He turned it on, and a colorful MS-DOS interface appeared before him.

This system was the famous predecessor of Windows 95. In fact, Windows 95 was essentially a refined version of MS-DOS—the operation flow was largely the same.

Once on the desktop, Zhang Tianfeng immediately spotted the first browser he’d been studying: Mosaic.

“I didn’t expect this old guy to be such a surfing pro. He even managed to get the Mosaic browser, which means this computer is connected to the internet.”

The internet in 1993 was nothing like the vibrant web of the 21st century, where countless websites crowded together. It was only mid-August now, just a month after the official release of the Mosaic browser, but that hadn’t stopped the old internet pioneers from exploring. The browser was filled with all sorts of text information, dazzling and overwhelming.

After searching for quite a while without finding the information he wanted, Zhang Tianfeng decided to try something else—hacking.

He’d learned a bit about hacking when tinkering with computers, though he wasn’t sure if it would work on machines from this era.

“Madman, what are you messing with now?” Gao Ran walked in, yawning. Whenever she hadn’t seen Zhang Tianfeng for a while, she always felt a sense of emptiness.

“Computer!”

Seeing Zhang Tianfeng’s fingers flying across the keyboard, with strings of white characters appearing on the screen, Gao Ran stared in a daze.

She didn’t really understand what any of it meant, but it all looked incredibly impressive.

A moment later, the Mosaic browser popped up on its own and began a self-search.

“Done!” With a snap of his fingers, Zhang Tianfeng leaned back in his chair, a smile playing on his lips.

The hacking attempt had worked. Although many command strings weren’t usable, the fundamental principles were the same. Now, he’d unlocked a higher level of search permissions, able to instantly access much of the hidden content. After all, this was a product developed by the American supercomputer application center, and it had plenty of backdoors left behind.

The interface jumped a few times, the screen went black, and then static like snowflakes appeared.

“Haha, serves you right for fooling around. You broke the computer, didn’t you?” Gao Ran rolled up her sleeves. “I’m good at this kind of repair. Whenever our TV at home gets snowy like this, I just give it a couple of knocks and it’s fine.”

“It’s not broken. This is a special effect.”

“Special effect? What sort of special effect?”

“You could think of it as simulating a snowfall scene in this little window,” Zhang Tianfeng explained. Then, with a click of the mouse, the screen returned to normal, revealing a new page.

This page was divided into left and right sections. The left side, taking up two-thirds of the screen, was a chat area. The right side, occupying the remaining third, displayed a list of names.

Right now, several names were lined up in the name display area: Steve Jobs, Jeff Bezos, Sergey Brin...

“Whoa, did I just stumble into a rudimentary chatroom created by the legends themselves?”

As he gaped in astonishment, a new message suddenly popped up in the chat box.

“Steve Jobs: Is anyone still here? Will someone chat with me? I’m a bit confused about the animation industry right now.”

Zhang Tianfeng paused, then asked, “What’s confusing you?”

Across the ocean, in the darkness of night, Steve Jobs sat before his computer, frowning at the string of garbled characters that was Zhang’s username.

After a moment, Jobs asked, “Are you a developer sent in by the Supercomputer Center?”

“Yes, you can call me Eastern Dragon,” Zhang Tianfeng replied with a smile. “But you haven’t told me what’s puzzling you. I read comics myself and might be able to help.”

“Thank you for working so late,” Jobs said. “What confuses me is, at this point in time, what kind of animation can quickly seize the market?”

“Are you an employee or the boss in animation?”

“I’m the boss! I spent ten million dollars to buy the next computer animation studio, but for years there haven’t been any outstanding works. We’re close to running at a loss.”

Ten million—now that was the extravagance of true wealth.

But this also confirmed for Zhang Tianfeng the identity of the man on the other end of the computer: the very father of epoch-making smartphones, Steve Jobs.

He had founded Apple, becoming the first billionaire of the PC era. Yet, in 1985, a pack of wolves he had brought in ousted him from Apple, claiming his management philosophy was flawed.

After leaving Apple, Jobs bought an animation studio, which would go on to create the world’s first 3D animated feature film, Toy Story.

If this Jobs was real, then Bezos and Sergey must be real as well?

Well, that could wait. Better to focus on placating the legend in front of him for now.

“In this era, 2D animation dominates the market. Have you ever considered making animation in another way?”

“Please elaborate.”

“2D animation is cheap to produce, but it lacks depth. If you can use 3D techniques to create an animation with a sense of three-dimensionality, I believe you can break into the market.”

On the other end, reading this message, Jobs fell silent—then into wild excitement.

2D animation was indeed fast to produce, and the advent of machinery had made competition in the field even fiercer. But using the more immersive 3D technology to make animation would instantly make the characters stand out. If the character development was well done and a little more effort was put into the storyline, anything was possible.

“Thank you, Mr. Eastern Dragon. You’ve given me a brilliant inspiration. If my work becomes a hit, I’ll be sure to reward you accordingly.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll come to collect when we meet one day.”

“Of course, of course.”

“Oh, and if you have time, go for a thorough medical check-up.”

If Jobs hadn’t died, who knows how far smartphones might have developed? Zhang Tianfeng could only speculate, but he wanted to give it a try.

It was still night across the ocean. He decided to wait and see if Bezos and Sergey Brin would come online, so he could spin his story for them as well.