Chapter 165: Shares in Mad Demand

At the end of the year, Wall Street suddenly grew bustling and busy. William White’s three companies were no small matters; rather than calling it a Series A financing round, it was practically the initial public offering of all three enterprises.

The valuations of the video game company and the comic book company had already exceeded one billion dollars, and while the software company carried plenty of controversy, it was also nearing that ten-billion-dollar mark.

To be frank, dragging them straight onto Nasdaq would have been effortless; Apple's initial public offering was merely at this level.

The game William White was playing was less a fundraising event and more a collective bidding session. In front of every investment bank sat a computer, displaying not only real-time price fluctuations but also indicators of remaining shares.

"Jerry, can you tell me what this is? How are these computers connected to the data?"

"I cannot, Boss. It looks like just an Apple II, augmented with a data exchange card. My guess is they have a minicomputer somewhere; this is a remarkable advancement."

"Damn it, leaving this equipment sitting here is a waste. It belongs on a trading floor."

"It probably isn't very mature yet. Those guys in uniforms are definitely IT engineers."

Feeling foolish, weren't they? Who said this buddy didn't have new software?

All right, he admitted the data exchange was pretty garbage and completely incapable of commercial application for now, but let’s not forget, he held the patents.

Naturally, the cluster of investment banks attending today possessed sharp vision. What did it matter if it didn't work yet? If it were already commercially viable, would they still be able to afford it?

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is indeed a new system, and its connection is somewhat unstable. Please refrain from touching the coils in the back; I do not possess the capacity to restore it on short notice."

"William, if everything goes smoothly, how soon can it achieve commercial application?" the head of Morgan Stanley asked.

"Well, if everything goes smoothly, entering the exchange might take three years. This is not merely a technical issue, but also requires cooperation from the exchange. If individual users wish to use it, it will take at least five years. That is exceptionally difficult, and I would say succeeding within a decade would be a wonderful outcome."

William White did not exaggerate. Bluffing like that made little sense; if something didn't work, it didn't work.

Sometimes things simply turned out this way: if you bragged too extravagantly, it would backfire. The timeline he presented closely matched the expectations of these old foxes.

Next came the demonstration of the software's applications. Unexpectedly, it was practically foolproof, and the explanation concluded in just a few minutes. If anyone still failed to understand, plenty of staff members remained on hand to assist.

"Jerry, this thing is truly convenient."

"Boss, I'm afraid everyone knows it now. That software company won't come cheap either."

"Sigh, this crafty fellow, is this even a new product launch?"

"Boss, there are media and reporters present. Look, isn't there even your favorite bottled water on the table? This was absolute premeditation."

"Sigh, let's just grab as many shares as we can!"

In truth, the rules of the game were quite reasonable. Every seat had a quota, capping one's maximum acquisition at fifteen percent of the shares. Deliberately inflating the price was useless; the computer only calculated the median price.

Any bid below this clearing price was nullified, while bids above it were executed at the collective bidding rate.

Things having reached this point, the old foxes' advance preparations were entirely rendered obsolete. There would be no drawn-out tug-of-wars, nor any bargaining.

What happens if you win a bid and refuse to buy?

That posed no problem either; it would simply be recorded as an auction failure, and no liability would be pursued.

While the words sounded polite, if anyone truly dared to cause trouble, that petty-minded fellow would undoubtedly never grant them another opportunity for cooperation.

Computer efficiency was naturally exceptionally high, concluding the process in a mere five minutes. Through simple calculation, the valuation of the comic book company reached 1.68 billion dollars.

"Thank you, everyone. Following our calculations, the highest bid approached 1.8 billion, and the lowest was 1.6 billion. Let us proceed."

The Japanese had gone mad. 1.8 billion—they genuinely dared to name such a price. Damn it, if this had been conducted through a traditional auction, they probably would have been wiped out.

Due to the demonstration of the home video game console's progress prior to the meeting, the gaming company's valuation soared to an astonishing 1.9 billion dollars—another jaw-dropping figure.

Regardless of how that software company fared, today could already be considered the creation of a miracle. Sweeping away hundreds of millions in a single financing round was practically miraculous.

Although the software company still held many uncertainties and the Japanese appeared somewhat hesitant, the American uncles held back no courtesy, sweeping up virtually all the remaining shares.

White Software's final valuation exceeded 1.2 billion dollars. Before this presentation, even the most optimistic forecasts had fallen short of one billion. One had to admit, today's trading methodology truly shattered the conventional worldviews of many titans.

Since these fellows were now shareholders, treating them to a meal was naturally in order. Although it was still a cold buffet, the food served was at the very least quite decent.

Attending William White's banquets ensured one would never go hungry; this had become a consensus among high society. As for criticisms regarding his extravagance and wastefulness, his official explanation was that he was stimulating domestic demand.

Very well, upon hearing such a formidable explanation, many people abandoned any intention of reasoning with the man.

Because he cited historical precedents, noting that Mr. Roosevelt had done precisely the same back in the day—half the men were assigned to dig holes, and the other half to fill them back in. While it appeared terribly wasteful of labor, it effectively solved the problem of unemployment.

You all know I've earned a great deal of money, and letting that money sit idly in a bank is a deeply shameful act. Therefore, I was slightly extravagant, which is also a manifestation of patriotism.

Driven to the point of vomiting blood by his retorts, people found themselves utterly powerless to refute him. To dispute his argument, one would have to take issue with Roosevelt himself.

Leaving aside those meddlesome bastards, even the neutral onlookers could no longer remain calm. How on earth could he spin things into such an argument?

Yet, looking at it another way, the current unemployment rate was far too high. Should they perhaps emulate the practices of the past?

William White's sophistry was indeed breathtaking, and most importantly, the man backed it up with data.

Look, I ate a lavish meal, the hotel made a profit, the waiter secured employment, the fisherman's seafood increased in value, and the farm's beef was consumed. The only one who suffered a loss was me. What else do you people possibly want from me?

Most importantly, every single link in this chain of consumption involved taxation. Criticizing a taxpayer—what on earth were they thinking?

Rest assured, in America, absolutely no one would ask why you didn't simply donate all your money.

Since nobody posed that idiotic question, William White stood in the clear light of day. You folks had better shut your mouths; if this young master stopped spending, countless people would lose their livelihoods.

Very well, in order to save the unemployed, please continue your extravagant lifestyle. Since it was money you earned yourself, there was truly nothing to criticize.

Dealing with envious and bitter people required unsparing ridicule; the moment you showed any sign of retreat, those fellows would hound you endlessly.

If William White had merely inherited his wealth, his detractors could genuinely nail him to the pillar of shame, championing estate taxes and eagerly hauling rich people back to strip them of their fortunes once more.

The phenomenon of hating the wealthy existed everywhere, varying only in degree, and one could always mask it as a pursuit of social justice.

Quite a few people were influenced by such rhetoric, given the widespread consensus that leaving too much wealth to one's descendants was never a good thing.