Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 85 Digital Darkroom

(Thanks to "Alimo墨锦" for the author certification! Thanks to "喜欢绿果的梁王" for the author certification! Bonus chapter~)

Mountain View, 1585 Charleston Road.

It was an unassuming two-story beige building, hidden behind several tall oak trees. Without a closer look at the small metal plaque at the entrance, no one would associate this place with the name that was about to create a sensation in the publishing world.

Adobe Systems.

Compared to the pleasant atmosphere at the Opus One winery yesterday, or the chaos in the Cisco garage, the air here is filled with a more rigorous, engineerly atmosphere. Gray carpets, off-white partitions, and the soft hissing of printers spitting out papers rise and fall.

John Warnock was waiting at the front desk early. He was wearing a dark blue polo shirt and holding a steaming cup of coffee. When he saw Satsuki and her group walk in, he immediately put down his cup.

"Ms. Saionji, and... Ms. Suzuki."

Warnock greeted her warmly and even opened the glass door for Amy.

"After we got back yesterday, we had Chuck work through the night to modify the rendering algorithm. Although it was just a temporary patch, the preview speed did improve by three times. Ms. Suzuki, your intuition is frighteningly accurate."

Amy shrank back a little shyly, her fingers gripping the backpack straps tightly.

"I...I was just saying it offhand."

"What you say offhand is often the closest to the truth."

Warnock led them through the office area and into a laboratory at the far end.

There were no windows, and the light was dim. Several large monitors emitted a faint glow, and the hum of cooling fans echoed in the enclosed space.

In the center of the room stood a Macintosh II, next to which was a huge flatbed scanner.

Charles Gerschke was sitting in front of his computer, with a young man with long hair who looked like a rock musician standing next to him.

"This is Thomas Knoll," Warnock explained. "He's a PhD student at the University of Michigan, and he wrote the initial core code for this software."

The young man named Thomas nodded somewhat shyly and gave up his seat.

A color photograph is displayed on the screen.

It's a woman in a red swimsuit, lying on the beach sunbathing. The background is the azure sea and white sand. (This is the first photo ever photoshopped, "Jennifer in Paradise")

"This is our current version, codenamed 'Display'."

Thomas gripped the mouse, one of those early, square mice with only a single button.

"Please look."

He clicked on a lasso icon in the toolbar and carefully traced the outline of the woman. The dotted line flickered, like flowing ants.

Then, he opened a color palette and selected blue.

Click "Fill".

The screen flickered.

The originally red swimsuit instantly turned dark blue.

Although the edges are still a bit jagged and the color transitions aren't very natural, in 1988, this scene was enough to make anyone accustomed to film and darkrooms feel breathless.

"hiss--"

Amy gasped.

She suddenly leaned closer to the screen, took off her glasses, rubbed her eyes, and then put them back on.

"It...it's changed?"

Amy reached out her finger, wanting to touch the screen, but then pulled it back.

"How did you do that? Where's the film? Don't you need to develop it and then apply color?"

In her mind, rooted in hardware engineering, images were physical. To modify a photo, you had to trace over it with a brush dipped in paint, or scrape it with a blade. If your hand trembled, the entire negative was ruined.

But now, all it takes is a click of the mouse.

"That's the magic of digitalization."

Satsuki stood behind Amy, looking at the blue swimsuit on the screen.

"No film, no developing solution, no pungent chemical smell. Everything is data. 0 and 1 can turn red, or they can turn blue."

She turned to look at Warnock.

"This is the 'application scenario' I mentioned yesterday."

Satsuki took a seasonal art book from her bag and placed it on the table.

"Mr. Warnock, do you know how much we spent on photographing this book?"

Warnock picked up the catalog and flipped through a few pages. On the exquisite coated paper, models dressed in different colors posed in various ways on the streets of Paris.

This trench coat comes in five colors.

Satsuki pointed to one of the pages.

"To shoot all five colors, we needed to ship five sample garments to Paris. The models had to change clothes five times and have their makeup touched up five times. The photographer had to adjust the lighting five times. If it was a cloudy day, or if a model had a pimple on her face, the entire crew had to stop filming and wait."

"Cost, efficiency, and uncontrollable risks."

"I don't like things that are out of control."

Satsuki tapped her finger on the blue swimsuit.

"But with this..."

"I only need to take a picture of a white one. Then on the computer, I can turn it into red, blue, yellow, or even patterned ones."

"If the model's skin isn't good, I can Photoshop her face to be as smooth as porcelain. If there's a trash can in the background, I can remove it."

"You're not selling software."

Satsuki's voice echoed in the dimly lit laboratory.

"What you're selling is a 'regret pill.' It's the power to turn back time and make reality submit to aesthetics."

Warnock and Gerschke exchanged a glance.

They had always positioned this software as a tool for color correction in professional printing plants, never imagining that it could directly disrupt the entire fashion industry's production process.

"A pill to undo regrets..." Thomas muttered to himself, "That's a perfect analogy."

"Amy, why don't you give it a try?"

Satsuki patted Amy on the shoulder.

"Huh? Me?" Amy waved her hands repeatedly, "I can't do it, what if I break it..."

"That's software, not hardware. If you break it, just restart it."

Satsuki pressed her down into a chair.

Amy's hands trembled as she gripped the heavy mouse. The ball on the bottom rolled across the mousepad with a dull thud.

She looked at the cursor on the screen.

"Try moving that parasol," Thomas instructed from the side, "using that 'cloning' tool."

Amy selected the icon that looked like a stamp.

She pressed the mouse, took a sample from the sand next to her, and then carefully applied it to the parasol.

As she moved, the parasol that was originally there gradually disappeared, replaced by the fine texture of the sand.

It's like an eraser wiping away pencil marks.

But this is a photograph. It's a real image.

"This is too much..."

Amy stared at the screen, her fingers no longer trembling, but becoming nimble.

She tried to paint the sky bluer and tried to draw a circle on the beach.

The pixels on the screen were arranged and combined according to her will.

That sense of control, that feedback from being able to modify the screen at will, is a hundred times more intuitive and a hundred times more exciting than soldering a circuit board with a soldering iron.

"It's fun."

Amy looked up, her eyes sparkling.

"This is much more fun than fixing radios!"

Satsuki smiled as she looked at Amy's excited profile.

She turned around and looked at the two founders behind her.

"Mr. Warnock, Mr. Gerschke."

Satsuki took a document out of her handbag.

"SA Investment hopes to invest five million US dollars to acquire a 5% stake in Adobe and obtain the exclusive distribution rights for the software in Asia."

"Five million?"

Warnock raised an eyebrow.

Adobe just went public last year, and although its market value is rising, five million dollars is still a huge sum. Especially for Photoshop, a project that is still in its incubation stage and hasn't even been officially named yet, it's like a windfall.

"Moreover, we will become your first enterprise customer."

Satsuki added.

"The entire promotional booklet for S-Collection's next season will be made using this software. It will be the best GG ever."

"The check is right here, as long as you nod your head."

Warnock didn't hesitate for long.

Adobe currently relies primarily on PostScript licensing for revenue, which is quite profitable, but the company urgently needs to develop a second front. While this image processing software has potential, it is extremely resource-intensive, and there has been ongoing opposition from the board of directors.

Now that someone is willing to pay for it and even provides its own application scenarios, why not take advantage of it?

"make a deal."

Warnock reached out his hand.

"Welcome to Adobe, Ms. Saionji."

Satsuki grasped his hand with just the right amount of pressure.

"It's a pleasure working with you."

She glanced back at Amy, who was still having a great time playing.

Amy was trying to make the woman's hair blonde, muttering to herself, "If I adjust the RGB channel parameters..."

"It seems my tech advisor really likes her new toy."

Satsuki smiled.

"Then let her play here a little longer. Fujita, we'll wait outside."

......

Stepping out of the Adobe building, the California sun was a bit dazzling, carrying the dry whiteness characteristic of midday.

Satsuki stood on the steps, her eyes slightly narrowed. The air was filled with the smell of dry dust and the scent of freshly trimmed grass from the distant lawn.

Fujita had already opened the rear door of the Cadillac, his white-gloved hand positioned above the door frame, his posture ramrod straight. He didn't ask what the five million dollar software was for; Shuichi had already told them, the retainers, that the young lady's decision was the only truth, and his only responsibility was to deliver the check and ensure her safety.

"Fujita."

Satsuki didn't get into the car immediately. Her gaze went over the roof and landed on a giant "GG" sign on the side of the road.

That was a Marlboro cigarette guy. In the western canyon at sunset, a cowboy rode on horseback against a backdrop of magnificent, almost surreal red rocks.

"Yes." Fujita Tsuyoshi bowed slightly.

"Look at that." Satsuki raised her chin and pointed to the GG sign. "In the past, people believed in 'seeing is believing.' What the photograph showed was what the world looked like. That was 'honesty' in the film era."

She took off her hat, her fingers gently stroking the edge of the brim, a meaningful smile curving her lips.

"But soon, 'truth' will become worthless."

"What we just bought wasn't a tool, but a knife. A knife that can cut through reality and stitch together dreams at will."

Satsuki turned her head and looked at Fujita.

"In the future, we can make the sky bluer, the skin whiter, and even make things that don't exist appear out of thin air. We will have the power to define 'beauty'."

"This is the most sophisticated lie, and the most expensive business in the future."

Although Fujita Tsuyoshi didn't understand computer software, he grasped the concepts of "power" and "business." He bowed deeply, saying nothing more, but bending even lower to express his awe of his lord's foresight.

"Let's go, let's wait for her in the car."

Satsuki bent down and got into the car. The black windows slowly rolled up, shutting out the heat outside.

In the dimly lit laboratory on the second floor, a few rays of light pierced through the gaps in the blinds, and dust particles danced in the beams of light.

Amy remained seated in front of the overheated monitor, fine beads of sweat glistening on her nose, completely oblivious to the passage of time.

The screen's soft glow reflected off her glasses, creating a colorful halo.

She held her breath and moved the mouse gently in her hand.

On that virtual beach made up of 0s and 1s, following the cursor's trajectory, a white seagull that was not originally there slowly spreads its wings.

"Click".

The mouse's microswitch made a very soft, crisp sound.

The seagulls are frozen in the azure pixelated sky, as if they are about to burst out of the screen and fly into the real world that is about to be rewritten.