The scent of roasted chicken and buttered vegetables filled the sunlit kitchen as the Calloway family settled around the long oak dining table, plates clinking and casual laughter rippling through the air. Jack wriggled in his seat, struggling to pour himself a glass of apple juice without spilling it, while Oliver babbled happily from his high chair, tiny fists pounding the tray.
Eleanor moved gracefully around the table, topping off wine glasses, smoothing Jack's cowlick with a practiced hand, while Charles carved thick slices of chicken with mechanical precision. Lillian was already spearing roasted potatoes onto her plate, making a face at the abundance of peas.
"So," she said lightly, "anyone want to place bets on how long before Oliver figures out how to escape that high chair?"
James chuckled, settling back in his seat, content for the moment to just soak in the warmth of it all. After the chaos of his mind over the past few days, this — this moment — felt grounding.
Lunch began in earnest, the conversation flitting from harmless family gossip to news headlines to jokes about Jack's dream of world domination.
But then, as the plates began to clear, the conversation shifted.
Charles leaned back, swirling his wine lazily. His gaze flickered to Thomas Calloway, the patriarch of the family, who sat at the head of the table — imposing even when relaxed, his sharp eyes missing nothing.
"Father," Charles began, "is it true that during the latest DNC meetings, Bill Clinton made it clear he wants to continue supporting internet-related policies and tech growth?"
Thomas set down his fork with a thoughtful clink. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, pausing as if choosing his words carefully.
"Yes," he said finally, his voice steady, measured. "It all started back when Al Gore pushed for the National Information Infrastructure initiative. Since then, the party's largely thrown its weight behind technology. Now, the Internet is the new buzzword. Every ambitious young politician wants to be seen as 'pro-tech.'"
James straightened a little in his seat, instinctively tuning in. This was important.
Thomas continued, his tone a mixture of approval and wariness. "With companies like Cisco, Netscape, and even tiny upstarts beginning to show promise, the political machine is seeing technology as an engine of growth. There's even talk among some members about introducing broader policies to boost internet expansion."
Lillian, tapping her fork against her plate thoughtfully, chimed in. "Isn't that a good thing? Didn't the tech sector — and Clinton's welfare reforms — help the party beat George H. W. Bush in '92?"
Thomas nodded slowly. "Yes, it helped. No question. That's why I support technological expansion, to a degree. Infrastructure, information flow — those will strengthen the nation."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep around the table.
"But as for the commercial future of the Internet?" Thomas shook his head, chuckling softly. "I don't have much faith. Beyond building a digital backbone for communication, I don't see the Internet becoming a dominant force in commerce. It's a tool for academics and government workers, not the next industrial revolution."
James said nothing, keeping his face carefully neutral, though his mind was already racing.
Lillian laughed lightly, reaching for another roll. "You might want to tell that to Charles' friend, then. What's his name again? Jim Clark? His company's about to go public, right? Something with 'Net'... Netscape?"
Charles nodded, setting his wine glass down. "Netscape Communications. They're set to go public next week — August 9th. Clark and his team developed the Netscape Navigator browser, which basically makes the Internet usable for regular people, not just tech nerds. Their plan is to sell the Navigator directly to consumers, then make bigger money selling enterprise solutions — web server software, technical support packages, and custom-built systems for businesses."
Thomas gave a small grunt of acknowledgment but didn't look impressed. "A good vision, maybe. But it's still narrow. Selling a web browser? That kind of income stream isn't exactly diversified. If a competitor comes along, or if customers lose interest, the company is exposed. Highly exposed."
He reached for his water glass, shaking his head slightly. "Wall Street and the party members might love the idea on IPO day. But without sustainable, multiple revenue models, these Internet companies are a house of cards."
Charles tapped his fingers against the table thoughtfully. "That's the crux of the problem. Right now, aside from software sales — like Microsoft and Oracle — no one's proven they can make serious, ongoing money online. Most internet-related businesses don't even have proper monetization models yet. It's all speculation."
Thomas leaned forward, his presence filling the space.
"The United Network Committee of America defines the Internet as a global information system. They're projecting user growth at around 23% annually — huge numbers, in theory. And yes, if enough users come online, the market will exist."
He smiled, a little coldly.
"But growth without profit is a fool's game. Without a way to generate reliable revenue, the Internet could just as easily become a grand Wall Street scam — a way to separate greedy investors from their money."
The table fell into a thoughtful silence.
Thomas's voice dropped slightly, almost conspiratorially. "Remember — right now, the internet software industry survives by selling software licenses, just like traditional tech. Microsoft. Oracle. They're irreplaceable because they own their niches."
He leaned back, a shadow crossing his face. "But tell me — how many Microsofts and Oracles can the Internet truly support?"
Across the table, James stared at his plate, half-forgotten fork in hand.
His heart was beating harder now. Faster.
The words swirled around him — growth, software sales, commercialization, speculation.
They were all looking at the wrong problem.
James squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment, steadying his breathing. A vague idea — something half-formed and dangerous and thrilling — shimmered at the edges of his mind.
The Internet wasn't just a network for sending emails or selling software.
It was a media platform.
And media platforms didn't survive on selling gadgets or subscription fees. They thrived — exploded — through advertising.
It was so obvious once he saw it.
Just like television had exploded in the '50s and '60s, not because people loved soap operas, but because advertisers paid fortunes for air time.
Advertising didn't just subsidize TV — it built the industry.
James gripped his fork so tightly his knuckles whitened.
Internet advertising.
Banner ads. Sponsored placements. Data-driven marketing. These would become the lifeblood of the online economy.
Without advertising, the internet would be a curiosity.
With it? It would reshape the world.
He barely noticed when Lillian teased Charles about buying stock in Netscape, or when Jack started loudly arguing that chicken was "yucky."
James was somewhere else entirely.
In his mind, he could already see it: targeted ads, marketplaces, whole businesses built around eyeballs, not products.
Companies that understood this would dominate the future.
He could be the one to build it — to get there first.
Across the table, Charles said something — maybe even asked him a question — but James didn't hear it.
His eyes had locked onto the small TV screen mounted in the kitchen corner, where a muted news broadcast showed a quick stock ticker, flashing companies he'd barely even registered before.
He stared, mind racing, heart thundering.
The Internet wasn't just a network.
It was a frontier.
And he, James Calloway, knew where the gold was buried.
But knowledge alone wasn't enough.He needed a plan.He needed allies.He needed capital.
A key had been placed right in front of him.
All he had to do now was figure out how to turn it.