Random Access - Wednesday, April 21, 1999Las Vegas: silicon fear, software loathing
The NAB '99 Conference calls up an old ghost...by Chris Gulker
The sidewalk was hotter than a Pentium III as I slid out of the 'Vegas airport and edged over to a waiting taxi. The frames of my prescription shades were hot, the cab's door handle was hot, the driver was Jamal."Where to" he growled. "NAB Convention. Sands Expo Center" I shot back. He gave me a hard look in the rear view mirror. "Traffic's gonna be bad" he said. "Nerd traffic is always bad".
I let the insult lay there, and pulled out the program for the National Association of Broadcasters' annual conference, and stopped pretending I cared what Jamal thought.
"Digital Convergence" was back in town, said the program. I stopped as if I'd been hit with a 21-inch CRT. Digital Convergence had died back in the early 90's, victim of a bunch of flim flam artists, who said everything, including TV, was going to go digital on "the information superhighway".
Only problem was, the "info superhighway" looked more like the "digital driveway". Expensive phone connections, slow modems, and slower moving government regulators made quick work out of Digital Convergence. Those losers had said we'd have small, wireless digital appliances for information, and would use the TV for stuff like banking and shopping. What a load of hypertext.
I had to get to the bottom of this. I checked the email inbox on my cel phone, just the usual spam. I checked my voice mail, nothing important. I called the office and left a message that I was going to need help on this one. Then I left a message for a certain blond in San Francisco - personal stuff, none of your business.
Jamal was busy cutting off a Microsoft bus when I spotted the clue. Right there in the program, in black white: Larry Ellison was in town, and he was going to squeal. I had to be there at 5 P.M., in a back room at the Sands.
This was the break I needed. It was only 9 A.M., so I decided to lay low. I paid Jamal, and went into the NAB multimedia pavilion, where I blended perfectly into a sea of nerds. Talk about invisible. Some of the big boys were pushing some hot goods: QuickTime 4, Microsoft Media Technologies, Real Networks G2, some fast new software called "Final Cut", but I stayed in the background, out of the action.
"Streaming" was the buzz - everybody was talking bout it. Breaking up video into packets so you could move it over the Net. Some of the big boys were flashing their heavy iron, guys like Silicon Graphics. I needed to know more.
Some of Ellison's boys had some action going. They were showing 105 simultaneous programs coming off a single server the size of a Silicon Valley mortgage payment. "Hundred and five?" I said, to one of those boys, "That pretty good?". He gave me a funny look and walked away. One of his buddies said "Wise guy, huh... better come around at 5. Upstairs. Back room. Be alone." and disappeared.
A few hours of bad conversation and worse coffee found me upstairs, in the back room, but I wasn't alone. A couple hundred other guys were standing around twitchier than so many Microsoft executives at a Department of Justice hearing.
Finally Ellison slipped into the room. He wore a black turtleneck and a $8.3 billion smile. He picked up a mike, it didn't work. He had a couple of TVs going, all on different channels , all showing strange colors. The picture was bad. The sound was bad. Typical broadcasters' show.
Ellison was mumbling something about a monster database, a really monster server, that would record 200 channels of television continuously. He said you could corner the market by letting people watch what they want when they want to. A certain blond in San Francisco came to mind. She likes to watch late night cop shows on Saturday afternoon. VCRs drive her crazy. She'd be a sucker for Ellison's gizmo.
I listened harder. Ellison was saying he gave the same digital convergence speech 10 years ago in the same joint, but this time it was real. He said his buddy Rupert Murdoch already had a racket going over in the UK called BIB, British Interactive Broadcasting. He had a guy come out and talk about it. The guy ad an American accent.
He showed the TV Guide on Murdoch's system. It was different - it went back a couple of days. You could back up and pick a program almost a week old. He picked "General Hospital". Bad choice. I hate soap operas.
Then a guy from his American operation came out. British accent. Something was weird here. Then Ellison gave us the real scoop. He said the monster database also recorded the choices of individual viewers, so you could send them targeted commercials. Sell football tickets to some guys, ballet tix to others. You catch my drift. That way you sell more stuff.
People could make their own channels, watch what they wanted, when they wanted to. You could charge 'em for that. Then someone asks Ellison about operating systems. Ellison starts to get hot, and guys move toward the doors. Time to go.
Got back to 'Frisco by nightfall. Cel phone beeps. Email from the blond: "Don't forget to pick up milk on the way home". I disappeared into the fog.
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