Excerpt
PROLOGUE BEFORE THE INTERNET had a face, it had a frame. Before computers had charm, they had cold, blinking cursors. Before tech billionaires were rockstars, they were weirdos in garages, hunched over motherboards and dreaming of world domination through code. And at the center of that evolution, that mutation, sat a skinny, sharp-eyed Harvard dropout who never stopped calculating. Bill Gates didn’t just ride the digital wave. He designed the plumbing. He didn’t build the most beautiful machines. He built the ones people couldn’t escape. If Jobs was the artist, Gates was the architect. If Bezos delivered the world, Gates uploaded it. Not with charisma, but with contracts. Not with a smile,...