Our Story

The charts danced on our screens, green spikes like electric dreams, red crashes like fate’s slow suffocation. Bitcoin soared. Then fell. Then soared again.

Satoshi, ever the zealot, slammed his fist against the table. "Brother," he hissed, eyes ablaze, "money is a hallucination! A shared delusion! We must harness the dream!"

And I, weary, bankrupt in all but spirit, nodded. "Yes, but what does one sell to dreamers?"

The silence was a revelation. A whisper from the abyss.

"Boba," Satoshi muttered. "A bubble for a bubble. Sweet, fleeting—like all things man believes to be eternal."

We sold everything. The last of our Ethereum, the watch my father left me, Satoshi’s beloved, half-broken car… We bought a shop.

The first customer came. A programmer, trembling from too much coffee and too little sleep. He asked for the Bitcoin Brown Sugar Tea. Satoshi handed him the cup, eyes wide with something between madness and salvation.

"Drink, brother," he said. "Taste the future."

And so they came. The speculators, the believers, the lost souls who thought they could drink eternity from a plastic straw.

But what is eternity but another bubble, waiting to pop?