Although Ethan Jones couldn't quite figure out how California's "nonsense law" had come about, on the way home his sister Evelyn Johnson gave him an explanation.
The United States may not have been founded entirely on science and technology, but its strength had certainly been built on them.
During World War II, Vannevar Bush's Office of Scientific Research and Development had demonstrated immense power, producing enormous gains for the U.S. As the war was drawing to a close in 1944, those who had witnessed the impact of scientific progress asked Vannevar Bush four crucial questions.
The first question was: How can we bring wartime technology into civilian life as quickly as possible while still ensuring military security?
In response, Dr. Bush gathered the opinions of other scientists and wrote the report Science: The Endless Frontier. In it, he argued that scientists should enjoy freedom in their research and development, and that they should have greater rights to decide in which fields their inventions would be applied.
Leaning against the passenger seat with her chin propped on one hand, Evelyn smiled. "In Dr. Vannevar's view, the personal freedom of technical researchers must not be restricted. If a scientist wants to work in a university, then let him do research there. If he wants to join a government agency, that agency must provide a supportive environment. And since the researchers themselves understand their technology best, they should also have the right to decide whether their inventions remain secret."
Although such ideas are difficult to fully realize in practice, California's choice to legislate in the spirit of this freedom becomes understandable. After all, if California wanted real growth, it needed breakthroughs in science and technology.
Relying solely on agriculture or traditional manufacturing would only bring steady, incremental gains—never a true leap forward.
At this point, Evelyn paused, her tone turning wry. "Of course, so far we don't really know what kind of change technology will bring. Right now, the only famous names are HP, Intel, and Fairchild, aren't they? These companies have certainly brought California some changes, but a qualitative leap? To be honest, even we haven't seen it yet."
Ethan raised his eyebrows at her words. He knew the truth she couldn't see yet: that the real leap would come from the popularization of computers.
When computers entered ordinary households, Silicon Valley's technology would finally unleash its power.
And as for the key to unlock that door. Still keeping his eyes on the road, Ethan glanced at his sister. The delicate profile of her face in the passenger seat made him smile. "The qualitative leap is coming soon," he thought.
Because the key to that future was the 6502. Maybe the world wouldn't remember his name, but within the circle, everyone would remember his role in bringing it forward.
"Because it was you who woke me up and asked me to help Chuck Peddle and the others solve their legal problems. The scientists who profit from this will thank you."
"Oh—Ethan—" Evelyn burst out laughing, She turned away from the passing scenery to look at her brother.
"Why do you make yourself sound like a villain?"
"No choice," Ethan shot back with a smirk. "Just trying to highlight your greatness. Behind every successful Superman, there's always a bastard trying to destroy the world. And if that bastard happens to be Superman's own family, then Superman is even greater—because he chooses righteousness over family loyalty."
"Hahaha!" Ethan's words made Evelyn laugh so hard she kept slapping the car door with her hand. It took her a long moment to regain her composure.
To prevent his sister from laughing himself, Ethan changed the subject. "Alright, enough joking. Evelyn, tell me—why does California think this way? Why do they believe they'll lead technological transformation? Don't other states have the same idea?"
This had been puzzling him for a while. If Stanford's rise, and by extension the birth of Silicon Valley, was tied to embracing Fred Terman, what about California itself? As a state with its own legislative power, why was it so convinced it would become the world's next core?
If outdated laws had been revised in response to results, Ethan could understand. But this—creating laws ahead of time to promote innovation? That kind of foresight was extraordinary.
Ethan's question made Evelyn stretch lazily before replying.
"Ethan, of course other states have that idea. But Dr. Vannevar only had so many students. Every university wants to hire his students for research. But only Stanford could guarantee Fred Terman would teach—because Fred Terman's father, Lewis Terman, was a professor here."
"WTF?!" Ethan almost choked on his own breath. Had he heard correctly? The greatest president in Stanford's history had been raised by Stanford itself?
"Damn! What the hell? You don't waste a lottery ticket that lucky!"
His incredulous reaction made Evelyn giggle again. "Surprised, huh? I was too, on my first day at Stanford. Our professors told us straight up that the School of Engineering is the most exceptional part of Stanford. Not just because HP is here, but because President Fred Terman would never leave. Other researchers might get poached, but not him—he grew up on this campus. He was running around Stanford when he was ten years old, back in 1910, when his father Lewis Terman had just joined as professor of educational psychology. Later, his father even became chair of the department.
Fred practically grew up breathing Stanford air. That kind of bond can't be shaken.
Some media say his teaching at Stanford was an accident—that he originally had an offer from MIT, but when he came home to visit his father he caught tuberculosis, so he stayed."
Evelyn smiled knowingly. "But the truth is, before he even came back, Stanford—knowing he had studied under Dr. Vannevar—had already prepared a professorship in radio engineering for him, and even made him director of the Electronics Communications Laboratory.
You think other schools didn't try to steal him? Of course they did. They just couldn't. And more importantly—Fred was only twenty-five when he became director."
At this, Evelyn fixed Ethan with a steady look. Feeling the weight of her gaze, Ethan instinctively glanced at the rearview mirror. Evelyn caught him and pursed her lips into a smile.
"So now you see why California thinks it can lead technological change, right? Because Stanford gave them hope. And reality proved that everyone's predictions were correct.
Even before Dr. Vannevar Bush presented Science: The Endless Frontier, President Fred Terman had already learned from his mentor the importance of vigorously promoting university-based scientific research. He brought this idea back to Stanford, and right around the time the report was published, he was promoted to vice president of the university. In that role, he began actively communicating with scientists from the Office of Scientific Research and Development.
At Harvard, under Dr. Vannevar's leadership, Terman had managed a wartime research project involving more than 800 people. When the war was nearing its end, he told those scientists that Stanford wanted to invite them to continue their research there.
What were they supposed to think? Many assumed that Terman was carrying out Vannevar's will. As a result, a great number of researchers—especially those who trusted Vannevar—followed Terman to Stanford.
The very next year, the Stanford Research Institute was established."
"Okay!"
Hearing his sister's story left Ethan deeply moved. If California's permissive environment was born from the influx of postwar scientists, then those outrageous legal provisions suddenly made sense. After all, those laws protected the very people who had become California's greatest economic resource—scientists forged in the crucible of war.
They were the foundation of America's success. If these people had no control over their inventions, where would their motivation for research come from? And if a patent's original inventor re-used their own ideas, how could that be called plagiarism? Obviously, it was a continuation—a re-exploration of past scientific results.
And as for those capitalists holding the patent rights? Without the breakthroughs made by scientists, there would be no patents for capitalists to profit from in the first place.
Note:
① Fred Terman's father, Lewis Terman, is famous for conducting the oldest and longest-running longitudinal study in psychology—the Terman Giftedness Study. He also standardized the Binet Intelligence Scale, which became the modern IQ test.
② Fred Terman's recruitment efforts at Stanford were legendary. He openly poached scientists from Harvard, telling them they would receive better support and opportunities at Stanford. If he hadn't been Vannevar's student, he probably would have been thrown out.
③ The Stanford Research Institute was not born overnight. Stanford had attempted to establish such an institute as early as 1920, led by trustee Herbert Hoover, but it failed due to a lack of academic resources. In 1945, Lockheed tried again, pulling in the Illinois Institute of Technology to support Stanford, but that effort also fell short.
The third attempt succeeded only because Fred Terman—raised at Stanford and backed by Vannevar—took charge. Building a technological hub in the Bay Area was never a one-day dream; it took over 20 years to achieve. Of course, no one expected Stanford would ultimately embrace such powerful allies.