The morning sun spilled through the curtains, painting the walls of James' room a soft gold. He stretched, feeling surprisingly refreshed.Today was important — not just for appearances, but for laying the first stone on the road to his future.
Today, he would officially submit his documents to Stanford.
Downstairs, the smell of bacon and fresh coffee greeted him.His mother, Lillian, smiled warmly when he entered the kitchen, while Thomas, ever the stern patriarch, simply nodded over his newspaper.
"Eat up, darling," Lillian said, placing a plate in front of him. "You have a big day today."
James grinned and tucked into his breakfast, feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and excitement. He had eaten hundreds of breakfasts like this before — but never with so much riding on the day ahead.
After breakfast, he grabbed the manila envelope containing his documents and the cashier's check for $35,000 — Stanford's tuition deposit for the year. His mother had personally handed it to him, trusting him to handle everything properly.
James almost felt guilty.
Almost.
But he had a bigger destiny now, one that his family — for now — could never understand.
He climbed into his 1995 Chevrolet Cavalier, the worn leather seats still warm from the California sun. The engine rumbled to life, and he pulled out of the driveway, heart hammering a little harder than usual.
The Stanford Student Services Center buzzed with energy when he arrived. Students and parents milled about, clutching folders and forms, laughter and nervous chatter filling the air.
Inside, the air conditioning blasted down on him as he approached the registration desk.
A friendly woman behind the counter smiled. "Name?"
"James Calloway," he said, handing over the envelope.
She scanned through the documents, nodding approvingly. "Everything looks in order. Once you pay the tuition deposit, you'll be fully enrolled."
James smiled politely. "Of course."
He turned away from the desk, the check still tucked securely in his jacket pocket.
But instead of heading to the payment office, he slid back into his car and drove straight toward downtown Palo Alto — toward the bank.
He felt a knot in his stomach tighten.His family would be furious if they found out.But how could he explain to them that investing in himself — in his vision — would yield a far greater future than Stanford ever could?
At the bank, he cashed the check without incident. $35,000 transferred smoothly into his new account. James could almost hear his heart pounding in his ears.
One step closer.
Now it was time for the real mission.
The parking lot outside Best Buy shimmered under the afternoon sun.James stepped out of the Cavalier, pocketing his keys and glancing around with a slight smile.
Best Buy, 1995.
A wonderland of primitive technology by future standards, but for now, it was the best the world had to offer.
Inside, the store buzzed with fluorescent lights and the hum of countless electronics. Rows of desktop computers stood proudly on display, their bulky CRT monitors flashing colorful screensavers.
James wandered past them, scanning carefully.
He knew exactly what he needed: power, expandability, and reliability — enough to set up a basic development and hosting environment. Enough to plant the first seeds of his empire.
After some searching, he found it — a Gateway 2000 P5-133.Sleek (for its time), with an Intel Pentium 133 MHz processor and a 2 GB hard drive. Primitive, but with some upgrades, it could do the job.
James ran his fingers lightly across the case, imagining the possibilities.
Next, he needed something bigger — a server.
He headed toward the workstation section and spotted a Sun Microsystems Ultra 1.Solid. Professional-grade. Designed for businesses, not homes.
Processor: SPARC 90 MHzRAM: 64 MB (expandable)Storage: 1–2 GB (expandable)
It wasn't a powerhouse by future standards, but here and now, it was as close to cutting-edge as he could get.
James flagged down a sales associate and began loading the equipment onto a cart. The final bill, after peripherals and a few networking cables, came to $9,500.
He paid in cash.
No paper trail back to his family.
As he pushed the cart out into the sunlight, James felt a thrill surge through him.
He wasn't just buying computers.
He was buying the future.
Back home, James parked discreetly near the side garage, out of sight from the main house.
The garage door creaked as he hauled the equipment inside.
The old garage smelled faintly of oil and sawdust, a few forgotten tools lying scattered in corners. Perfect. No one came in here much.
James set up a folding table near the wall and began unpacking.
The Gateway 2000 came first. He set it carefully onto the table, connecting the monitor, mouse, and keyboard with quick, practiced hands.
Then he rolled the Sun Ultra 1 into place beside it, plugging it into its own power strip.
Cables crisscrossed the floor like a growing spiderweb.
He booted up the desktop first. The familiar clunky startup screen appeared, and a few minutes later, he was staring at a clean, waiting operating system.
The Ultra 1 took longer — it was a beast, even in its own primitive way.
While the systems loaded, James ran a quick inventory:
High-capacity external hard drive (for backups) — Check.
Basic router for networking (10 Mbps, but good enough) — Check.
Spare parts and RAM modules — Check.
He smiled.
Most teenagers in 1995 dreamed of new cars or college parties.
James dreamed of root directories and server stacks.
Once both machines were online, James got to work.
With Neural Nexus, coding was almost effortless.
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting lines of code flow through his mind, compiling and structuring themselves like puzzle pieces snapping into place.
He created a basic server framework on the Ultra 1 — a platform that would eventually allow for early banner ads, simple tracking, and user profiling.
On the Gateway 2000, he set up his development environment: coding editors, simple graphic design tools, rudimentary database management.
Each keystroke, each line of code felt like building a house brick by brick — except in his mind, he could already see the finished skyscraper towering over the skyline.
By midnight, drenched in sweat and exhaustion but smiling fiercely, James leaned back in his chair.
The garage was transformed now: a buzzing hive of blinking lights, humming fans, and future dreams.
He flexed his fingers and whispered, "Let's begin."
The world wasn't ready for him yet.
But soon, very soon, it would be.