Chapter 1
The figures on the Quotron terminal didn’t appear as money but as a quiet countdown that could either change the fate of Netscape forever or make it obsolete.
9:30 a.m., August 1995. Inside Netscape headquarters, Marc Andreessen,a young twenty-two-year-old whose dream of reshaping the world through global connectivity was closer than ever to becoming a reality. With a white t-shirt, wrinkled blue jeans, that carried the smell of morning coffee he’d been drinking for days while working on the Netscape navigator. He hadn’t slept for days, spending nearly every waking hour in front of computer screens writing several lines of code, but this morning he didn’t look at lines of code any more but something else.
As amber texts flickered, he looked at the screen as Netscape’s stock jumped from $14 to $71 at the open to $74.75.
“We did it!” he shouted in a huge voice that caught the attention of everyone in the room.
“What did we do, Marc?” One of the engineers asked.
“Look at the monitor,” he said, pointing toward it as the lights from the screen glowed more and reflected in his eyes.
“Thank you for not giving up on us, you made this happen, Marc” the engineer replied giving him a deep hug.
While they hugged each other, it caught the attention of everyone in the room who watched and were trying to understand what was happening. As they watched, Marc slowly lifted up his head and shouted in a happy voice.
“Bring some champagne and glasses. Let’s celebrate”
“What are we celebrating Marc?” Jim Clark asked.
Jim Clark wasn’t just another Silicon Valley figure but a seasoned veteran who’d funded Marc’s dream. He didn’t only fund the dream but also encouraged him during the moments when he felt like giving up.
“We’re celebrating our takeover” Marc replied as he popped the champagne while looking at Jim.
“Take over” Jim muttered to himself.
“Look at the screen Jim” Marc tapped his shoulder while pointing his finger towards the screen.
The amber texts flickered when Marc saw them but when Jim looked at them, he didn’t just see flickering texts, he saw the realization of a dream, countless nights of sacrifice that finally paid off.
“You’re the man Marc” he hugged Marc as tears rolled down his cheeks.
While this merriment went on, an unexpected phone call rang. They heard the phone ring but didn’t want to answer; it kept on ringing until Marc picked up the phone.
“Congratulations Marc, the news is everywhere” a shrill small voice spoke at the other end.
“Thanks a lot. Please who’s this?” Marc asked, as everyone in the room now suddenly fixed their gaze on him.
“It’s Bill” the person replied
“Bill? As in Bill Gates?” Marc asked again but this time in a defiant manner.
“Yes it’s me Bill and I have a proposal for you”
“What proposal Bill?” Marc asked
“You have a great product, we should work together. We can reshape the world” Bill replied
“No” Marc replied.
“Remember we could give the Internet Explorer for free with Windows” Bill replied laughing while dropping the phone.
“What a clown!” Marc shouted at the top of his voice before hanging up.
“You want competition? Then let the battle begin” he added while looking out of the window panting with drops of sweat running down his face.
Marc slammed the receiver back onto its cradle with a violent crack that echoed through the quiet room.
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating the last remnants of the celebration. The bubbles in the half-poured champagne glasses died down. Jim Clark set his glass on the edge of a desk, the joy completely drained from his face. He knew exactly what a phone call from Bill meant.
“What did he say, Marc?” Jim asked his voice tight.
Marc didn’t answer right away. He walked slowly toward the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the sun-drenched asphalt of Mountain View. Sweat tracked through the dust and grease on his forehead. Gates wasn’t bluffing. Microsoft owned ninety percent of the operating system market. If they bundled their own browser for free, hidden inside the code of every new computer sold on Earth, Netscape’s $75 stock price wouldn’t mean a thing. They would be choked out before the public even understood what a browser was.
“He offered a partnership,” Marc said, his back still turned to the room. He let out a sharp, cynical laugh. “A partnership, where they hold the knife and we offer our throats.”
“And you told him no,” Jim stated. It wasn’t a question.
“I told him no.” Marc turned around, his eyes locking onto the room of twenty-something engineers who were looking at him like a savior. The exhaustion of the last three sleepless days was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp adrenaline. He stepped away from the window, his towering six-foot-five frame suddenly looking less like a hacker and more like a General.
“The party is over,” Marc announced, his voice slicing through the room. “Drink your glass, pour the rest out. Microsoft is coming for us. If we aren’t shipping the 2.0 beta by midnight, we’re already dead back to the monitors.”
The engineers didn’t complain. They didn’t ask questions. The raw, defiant energy radiating from Marc infected them. Within seconds, the sound of popping corks was replaced by the aggressive, rhythmic clacking of mechanical keyboards.
Marc sat back down at his desk. The green and amber text of the stock market ticker continued to climb, but he was no longer looking at the numbers. He opened his compiler, his fingers hovering over the keys. He had just declared war on the richest man in the world, and he had exactly one weapon: his code.
