Table of Contents
Artificial Intelligence Translates the Language of Animals
Kim Kyung-jin, Attorney at Law
The Story of AI Learning to Listen to Whales, Dolphins, Birds, and Bees
Twelve chapters on how AI listens to dolphins, sperm whales, humpback whales, birds, and bees to find rules in their sounds, and what this technology means for its risks and for animal rights. Written in simple sentences a child can read, with verified sources in every section.
Table of Contents
AI Deciphers Ancient Scripts
Kim Kyung-jin, Attorney at Law
Ancient Records Revived by AI
In twelve chapters, this book explains how AI revives records once unreadable, from burned scrolls and wooden slips buried in mud to broken clay tablets. It covers virtual unrolling at Herculaneum, virtual collation of oracle-bone texts, reading Silla wooden tablets, computational analysis of undeciphered scripts, and multispectral archives, with verified references for each chapter.
Table of Contents
Artificial Intelligence for New Materials Design and Rocket Propulsion Engineering
Kim Kyung-jin, Attorney at Law
AI Potentials, Self-Driving Laboratories, and Physics-Informed Machine Learning (PIML)
Ten chapters on how artificial intelligence is changing new materials and rocket propulsion: atomic simulation, generative models, self-driving labs, high-temperature alloys, metal 3D printing, combustion, cooling design, and engine diagnosis and control. Written without equations, with verified sources in every chapter.
AI Library
The Age of Autonomous Scientific Discovery
Kim Kyung-jin, Attorney at Law
AI Scientists and Self-Driving Labs
This book follows how AI scientists and self-driving labs are changing the way science generates and verifies claims. It covers literature-based discovery, natural-language protocols translated into robot commands, multi-agent research systems, closed-loop laboratories, materials search, the verification gap, chains of evidence, research harnesses, journal ethics, and legal responsibility.
AI Library
A New Era of Life Sciences Opened by Artificial Intelligence
Structural Proteomics, Genomic Foundation Models, Autonomous Laboratories, and Global Governance
Kim Kyung-jin, Attorney at Law
This book is a research volume compiled with artificial intelligence. A human selected the materials and structured the work, while AI models drafted the sentences and cross-checked the facts.
AI Library
The Double Structure of Digital Sovereignty
Europe’s Departure from Palantir and the Chains of American Big Tech
Kim Kyung-jin, Attorney at Law
This is a record of 2026, when European intelligence agencies and defense ministries began removing analytics tools from America’s Palantir. It covers the replacement decisions made by France’s General Directorate for Internal Security (DGSI), Germany’s Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution (BfV), and the Netherlands Ministry of Defense; the incident in which US export controls severed an ally’s ac…
New English Edition
Artificial Intelligence in Horticulture
Kim Kyung-jin, Attorney at Law
Across five chapters and ten sections, this book examines computer vision for crop diagnosis, harvesting robots and autonomous field systems, smart greenhouses and digital twins, precision irrigation and supply-chain quality control, high-throughput phenotyping, and predictive breeding.
New English Edition
Artificial Intelligence in Food Crop Agriculture
Kim Kyung-jin, Attorney at Law
Across six chapters and eighteen sections, the book examines digital agricultural infrastructure, remote sensing, crop diagnosis, yield forecasting, precision irrigation, genomics, molecular breeding, agricultural robotics, climate-smart agriculture, and global food security.
New English Edition
The Future of Forestry and Agroforestry
Kim Kyung-jin, Attorney at Law
Driven by Artificial Intelligence and Digital Innovation
Across five chapters and fifteen sections, the book follows satellites, drones, LiDAR, digital twins, forest-specific language models, wildfire and pest forecasting, forestry robotics, agroforestry, timber traceability, and forest carbon markets.
New English Edition
Smart Livestock Farming: AI Enters the Barn
Kim Kyung-jin, Attorney at Law
Sensors listen, cameras watch, and artificial intelligence helps farmers decide.
Across five chapters and fifteen sections, the book follows precision livestock farming from animal health and reproduction to robotic milking, virtual fencing, digital twins, methane reduction, welfare, and data ownership.
Table of Contents
Han Dong-hoon, Busan Buk-gu Gap: A Record of the 100 Days Before and After the Election (Mar. 26-Jul. 3, 2026)
Kim Kyung-jin
Table of Contents and 13 sections
From March 26 to July 3, 2026, this record follows the spring after expulsion, the Busan Buk-gu Gap by-election, victory as an independent, and the first bill submitted in the National Assembly.
Table of Contents
Artificial Intelligence and Medicine
Kim Kyung-jin, Attorney at Law
AI in clinical care, hospitals, education, and research
AI in medical imaging, risk prediction, treatment planning, hospital operations, education, and research, with patient safety, privacy, and accountability.
[AI Library] Chapter 1. The Wandering Boy
The Jensen Huang Story
Part 1. Building an Empire
Chapter 1. The Wandering Boy
Kim Kyung-jin
History is not the record of winners. It is the record of those who rose after defeat. Jensen Huang's life proves this.
Under the Tainan Sun
When Augustus, the first emperor of the Roman Empire, was born, no one imagined this frail child would one day command the entire Mediterranean. Jensen Huang's birth was much the same. On February 17, 1963, a baby boy let out his first cry in Taipei, the capital of Taiwan. His Chinese name was Huang Jen-Hsun (黃仁勳). The boy who the world would come to know as Jensen Huang was the second son of an ordinary middle-class family.
His father, Huang Shing-Tai, was a chemical engineer working at an oil refinery. His mother, Luo Tsai-Hsiu, was a schoolteacher at a local elementary school. Both spoke Minnan, the traditional language of Taiwan, as their mother tongue. They built a household typical of Taiwanese families, one anchored in hard work and education. Shortly after the boy was born, the family moved south to Tainan, the ancient capital of Taiwan.
Tainan was an old city. Temples of red brick stood on every corner, and the scent of incense seeped through every alley. Street vendors called out their wares, bicycles streamed past in long lines, and people's lives were modest yet full of energy. To young Jensen, Tainan was the entire world, warm with sunshine and his family's love.
But the calm did not last. The year Jensen turned five, his father's work forced the family to leave Taiwan. Their destination was Bangkok, the capital of Thailand. His father had joined an oil refinery construction project there. Jensen and his older brother followed their father into unfamiliar tropical land.
Life in Bangkok was nothing like Tainan. The air was humid and scorching. The language, the food, the culture, all of it was foreign. Jensen attended Ruamrudee International School, where he slowly adjusted to English and his new surroundings. The family spent roughly four years in Bangkok. But the wheel of history would not leave this small family in peace.
In the late 1960s, the shadow of the Vietnam War stretched across all of Southeast Asia. The fighting crept closer and closer to the Thai border. American bombers flew over Cambodia and Laos, and inside Thailand itself, political turmoil and military coups followed one after another. Soldiers patrolled the streets. Anxiety hung in the air.
Jensen's father sensed it. This was no place to raise children. A few years earlier, he had traveled to the United States for professional training at Carrier, the air-conditioning manufacturer, at their New York plant. The America he saw then was a land of possibility. A vast continent, an atmosphere of freedom, and opportunity open to anyone. He made a quiet vow to himself: someday, I will send my children there.
His mother, too, was preparing for her sons' future. She could not speak a word of English. Yet she knew instinctively that her children would need the language to survive in America. She opened a thick English dictionary. Every day, she picked ten words at random and made her boys read them, memorize them, and explain their meanings.
She herself did not know the correct pronunciation of those words. She probably did not fully understand the definitions either. But she watched her children study, and she encouraged them never to give up. It was less a language lesson than an act of love. Years later, Jensen recalled those days.
"My mother didn't know any English at all. And yet she taught me English."
How was that even possible?
Jensen says the secret was his mother's persistence and devotion. She told her young son, over and over, "You can do it," and "You are going to do well on the test." Those words were not baseless encouragement. They were seeds of confidence planted in a child's heart. When Jensen Huang later faced countless impossible challenges, repeating to himself, "How hard can it be?", it was because of the belief his mother instilled during those years.
Nine Years Old, Crossing the Pacific
As the flames of war closed in on the Thai border, Jensen's parents made a momentous decision. The children, at least, had to be sent somewhere safe. But the family was not yet in a position to move together. They lacked the money, the visas, and the foundation to resettle.
The parents made a wrenching choice. They would send their two sons to America first. Jensen was nine; his brother was ten. Two young boys who could barely speak English had to cross the Pacific Ocean without a guardian.
In 1973, Jensen and his brother boarded a plane. As the boy stared out the window at the endless expanse of clouds and ocean, what could he have been thinking? He must have been afraid. He must have felt lost. And yet, perhaps somewhere in his chest, the seed of hope his parents had planted was already beginning to sprout.
Jensen's uncle lived in Tacoma, Washington. His parents had contacted this relative, a man the boys had never met, and asked him to take care of them. The uncle and his wife were recent immigrants, still finding their footing. Their means were limited, and they were hardly in a position to look after two young nephews.
The uncle searched for a school the boys could attend. He needed a boarding school that would accept foreign students. The tuition the parents could afford was tight. They had sold nearly everything they owned to send their children to America.
One school caught his eye. Oneida Baptist Institute in Kentucky. The photographs and descriptions in the pamphlet looked respectable enough. The uncle assumed it was a prestigious boarding school, something comparable to the well-known prep schools on the East Coast.
The reality was nothing of the sort. Oneida Baptist Institute was not a prep school. It was a place that took in boys who had dropped out of the regular American education system, troubled teenagers, young men with nowhere else to go. In today's terms, it sat somewhere between a juvenile detention center and an alternative school. Located in Clay County, Kentucky, one of the poorest areas in the country at the time.
When Jensen arrived, what greeted him was a rough dormitory. The rooms had no doors and no locks. Many had no dressers at all. Most of the students smoked. Each one carried a knife in his pocket.
Jensen was assigned to the dormitory with his brother. There was a problem: Jensen was too young. He was not old enough for the school's regular classes. So instead of attending the main campus, he had to go to a nearby elementary school, Oneida Elementary. His small frame, his long hair, his heavily accented English, and his Asian appearance. All of it made him stand out, and all of it made him an easy target for bullying.
Lessons from a Kentucky Boarding School
On his first night at Oneida, Jensen met his roommate. A seventeen-year-old white teenager. The age gap between them was eight years. The older boy lay on his bunk, his body covered in tattoos and lined with scars from knife wounds. He rolled up his shirt and showed Jensen every one of them.
To a nine-year-old boy, the sight must have been pure terror. It might have been the same dread Roman soldiers felt when they first came face to face with the barbarian tribes of Gaul. But Jensen had nowhere to run. His parents were on the other side of the Pacific, and international phone calls cost more than a child could imagine. He could not cry and beg them to come get him.
Oneida Baptist Institute had rules. Every student was required to perform manual labor each day. The school employed no custodians. Cleaning, maintenance, and farmwork all fell to the students. Jensen's brother was assigned to work at a nearby tobacco farm. And the younger Jensen? His job was cleaning the toilets.
Every day, Jensen had to clean the bathrooms in the boys' dormitory. He scrubbed toilets used by over a hundred rough boys, swept the floors, and cleared away foul-smelling waste. For a nine-year-old, it could have been a humiliating experience. But Jensen didn't complain. He did the work assigned to him without a word. Years later, he looked back on it this way.
"I probably cleaned more toilets than just about anyone."
Those years left Jensen with a lesson that stuck. No task is beneath you. If you give your best to even the lowliest job, that itself becomes a way of keeping your dignity. When he later became the head of a $3 trillion company, he never lost that attitude. He ate in the cafeteria alongside his employees, and if a restroom was dirty, he didn't hesitate to clean it himself.
Life in the dormitory was pure survival. Jensen was bullied often and sometimes beaten. The kids hurled racial slurs, and a small, slight Asian boy made an easy target. In a 2012 interview with NPR, Jensen described those days.
"The kids were really rough. Everybody carried a knife in their pocket, and when fights broke out, things got bad. Kids got hurt."
But Jensen didn't break. He learned to adapt. During his first week, he tried smoking to fit in with the other kids. Before long, though, he made a calculation that was perfectly sensible for a nine-year-old: the money spent on cigarettes was better spent on snacks and ice cream at the school store. So he quit.
Jensen found his own way to survive. It started with his roommate, a boy covered in tattoos. Jensen discovered something startling. The big, intimidating older boy couldn't read. A seventeen-year-old who was illiterate. Jensen made him an offer.
"I'll teach you how to read."
What did Jensen want in return? Protection. The older boy agreed to shield Jensen from the kids who picked on him. It wasn't a simple transaction. It was a partnership where each filled a gap the other had. Every night, Jensen taught his roommate the alphabet and read to him. In return, the older boy showed Jensen how to bench press and watched over him in the dormitory.
Through this experience, Jensen came to understand something. Even people with a rough exterior carry a desire to learn inside them. If you approach someone sincerely and offer what they need, you can become friends with a person from a completely different background. This became a real asset later, when he ran a company and had to work alongside all kinds of people.
Another treasure Jensen found at Oneida was sports. He picked up table tennis and joined the swim team. He was small, but at the ping-pong table, physical size didn't matter. Table tennis wasn't a game the strongest player won. It was a game for whoever could think fast and move with precision.
Jensen threw himself into table tennis. He learned to read his opponent's movements, calculate the spin of the ball, and control the momentum of a match. He stood out in swimming, too. Every night he did push-ups and sit-ups to build his strength. By the time he was fourteen, he was good enough to be featured in Sports Illustrated.
Communication with his parents happened through cassette tapes. International phone calls were too expensive. His parents bought cheap cassette recorders and sent them to the boys. Jensen and his brother recorded everything that had happened over the past month onto a tape
and mailed it to Bangkok. Their parents recorded their own voices over the same tape and sent it back to Kentucky. A single cassette traveled back and forth across the Pacific, keeping the family connected.
One day, Jensen's school took the students to a nearby restaurant. It was a McDonald's. To a nine-year-old's eyes, McDonald's was a world of wonder. Gleaming lights, food served in boxes, and a delicious hamburger. Jensen recorded a message for his parents on the tape.
"Mom, Dad, I went to the most amazing restaurant today. Everything was bright and shining. It was like the future. The food came in boxes, and the hamburger was so good."
Years later, Jensen laughed when he recalled that moment. To the boy he was then, McDonald's was not just a fast-food restaurant. It was the "taste of the future," a symbol of all the abundance and possibility that America represented.
Those two years at Oneida formed the backbone of the person Jensen Huang became. In a 2002 interview, he made this confession.
"I remember my time in Kentucky more vividly than any other period of my life."
Many of those memories were painful. But the pain made him tough. Hitting rock bottom can destroy a person, yet some people push off that bottom and spring back up. Jensen was someone who rose from the bathroom floor.
Two years later, his parents finally immigrated to the United States. The family settled in Beaverton, Oregon, and brought the brothers back from Kentucky. The family was whole again. Jensen and his brother left Oneida and enrolled at Aloha High School in Oregon.
Life in Oregon wasn't easy either. An immigrant family's means were limited. His father scoured newspaper ads looking for work, and his mother took whatever job she could find. Jensen never forgot the look of helpless dismay on his mother's face when a piece of rented furniture broke.
But the family refused to give up. Jensen threw himself into his studies, skipped two grades, and graduated from high school at sixteen. In table tennis, he climbed high enough to earn a national ranking. He joined the math, science, and computer clubs, honing his talents along the way.
The harsh winter winds of Kentucky and the cold air of the dormitory had forged a nine-year-old boy into something hard and resilient. He was no longer a wandering child. He had become a small warrior who understood that he would have to carve out his own fate. The world is unfair and rough, but he had learned this: for those who refuse to quit, who keep grinding and sharpening their skills, opportunity will come.
Years later, Jensen Huang stood before students at Stanford University and told them this.
"I wish upon you enough suffering and hardship. Greatness doesn't come from talent. It comes from enduring pain."
Those were not empty words. The boy who scrubbed toilets in Kentucky, who taught his tattooed roommate to read, who was moved by a McDonald's hamburger. All of those experiences, layered one on top of another, built the Jensen Huang who stands today.
In 2019, Jensen Huang donated $2 million to the Oneida Baptist Institute, the school he had once attended. The money funded a building named Jensen Huang Hall, a dormitory and classroom facility for girls. The boy who once cleaned toilets had become a benefactor, giving other children a chance to learn.
Augustus, the first emperor of Rome, faced countless trials in his youth. Power struggles, assassination threats, failing health. Yet he rose above every hardship to build an empire that brought peace across the Mediterranean world. Jensen Huang's story follows a similar arc. From Tainan to Bangkok, Bangkok to Kentucky, Kentucky to Oregon. The wandering boy was thrown into new surroundings each time, and each time he adapted, learned, and grew stronger.
The wandering was over. But the lessons it taught him became the compass for a grand journey just beginning. The boy knew he could survive wherever the world dropped him. And beyond surviving, he knew he could build a kingdom of his own.
From Tainan to Kentucky, what the boy crossed was not the Pacific Ocean. It was the boundary of his own limits.
Kim Kyung-jin
Attorney · Former Member of the National Assembly · AI Policy Researcher
© 2026 Kim Kyung-jin. All rights reserved.