There’s no turning back.

Not after what just happened.

We won the battle but our position is sacrificed. 

We need more OGs.

It’s our only hope. 

The war has just begun and we need to be ready.

Chapter 1: Comfort

“We got most of them!” G-ma yells from my side as we escape to the valley. “Stragglers on our tail. Mad as wet hens!”

“Another squad incoming, dead ahead!” I shout back. Footsteps thump nearby. “Sounds like lone wolves in the valley.”

A news alert appears in my sidefeed:

“The stakes just mooned!” I yell.

“Wohoo, I’ll take my turkey with extra gravy!” she responds pretending the money matters to her. With a quick reflex, she turns and spears the enemy to her side dead.

It matters to me. Earning bitcoin in Samurai Squad is my only income besides UBI. My nanodegrees in Philosophy and ET Studies don’t pay the bills and it beats consuming ads in Faceworld.

There’s movement in a bush to my left. I see him. His health is low. So is his kill count.

“Knock that bush camper out!” G-ma yells. “We’re about to be up to our assholes in alligators!”

He’s docile despite his blown cover. A second look at his stats reveals bundles of building materials. “He’s got mats! We can use him!” Bringing him into our squad means splitting the winnings but we need a fort to defend ourselves in the valley.

I offer him alliance. He accepts without hesitation.

“Put those mats to work bud!” I command in the live chat. “We need elevation stat!” The confidence in my virtual voice takes me by surprise every time.

Lone wolf no more, FLWright sprints through the foundation build. Layers mount on top of each other as if erected by a high-speed 3D printer. The top platform towers over the surrounding hills, complete with shielded shooting posts facing all directions.

I ascend to the apex instantly thanks to my freshly implanted Brainlink sensors, a gift from G-Ma for my 18th birthday. No more goofy running or climbing gestures. I think about a motion and my avatar listens.

G-Ma joins. Our bows launch a storm of arrows that stop the ambushing squads in their tracks. “Now we’re cookin’ with napalm!” she exclaims.

A handful of survivors reach our fort. G-Ma delivers the coup de grace to the final enemy with a spear to the head. Witnessing the brutality of her white-haired, cardigan skinned avatar always puts a grin on my face.

The chaos suddenly turns to silence. A winner’s circle enshrines the three of us. Above our view appear the total winnings of over 300K sats — the interest accumulated throughout the game from the sats staked by each player. We put in most of our savings to get into this game but all players get their sats back and are insured against any loss. 100K sats deposit into each of our wallets.

“That covers the rent! The rest of the month’s winnings go to the virtual Amur Leopard!” I joke. Now extinct IRL, the Amur Leopard is the rarest and most valuable virtual pet. We could never afford it.

Chapter 2: Destiny

G-Ma & I return to our Metaverse sandbox, a rendering of the Amazon Rainforest. We call it ‘The Jungle’. Prized virtual birds fly overhead and my pet elephant, Falcor roams nearby. The sun is at its highest point but we’re safely guarded from the heat in the comfort of our home.

“Squadding up with the lone wolf was a smart move. That won us the battle.” G-Ma says with encouragement. “You’re just like your father in that way. Always finding ways to bring people together.”

“Ha, thanks G-Ma but you doubled my kills.” The comparison makes me blush.

A news alert appears:

“So much for the Amur Leopard,” I lament.

“Superior currency my ass! Fucking politicians and corporate con artists. They’re lower than whale shit!” G-Ma exclaims.

The Money Wars have turned into outright memetic warfare. Bitcoin has always been full of drama and wild price swings but the recent fight against it has been especially intense. It’s impossible to ignore since it’s part of everything I do in the Metaverse.

The Metaverse is a VR world that no one really controls so it’s able to get around ‘The Great Bitcoin Firewall’. People are always creating new experiences and ways to earn bitcoin, like Samurai Squad.

There’s also Faceworld. It’s the corporate version of the Metaverse. Instead of Bitcoin, they have their own coin that’s backed by the Dollar. It’s called Liberty.

“Damn Liberty is worth the same bucket of worm spit as the Dollar. No wonder people go on buying a bunch of shit they don’t need.” G-Ma grumbles. “Those assholes already gave us shit money. Then they go and put it into Faceworld to get people addicted to making their shit money!?” 

This is her favourite rant.

“I’m old enough to remember when people thought Liberty had a wax cat’s chance in hell,” she continues. “Sure it did, until the ‘free world’ political bouge-jobs realized they were losing the Crypto Race and that Faceworld was the ticket to tracking and manipulating everything people in the West do…”

“National defence imperative they called it. More like digital imperialism if you ask me!”

“Nothin’ wrong with earning from games, Otto. Just make sure you ain’t the one being played and that the money is good. There’s a lot I don’t pretend to know but Bitcoin is damn near the only thing those bouge-jobs can’t control or take from you. That’s all I need to know.”

Nodding and smiling is my usual response. It’s just money to me.

I dabbled in Faceworld when I was younger, playing branded games and consuming branded experiences. That’s the easiest way to earn Liberty. 

G-Ma wouldn’t step foot in Faceworld. “Rather nail my nuts to my knee!” she’d say.

I think that’s why she gifted me my first satoshis and introduced me to the Metaverse. Even in the current bear market, those sats have gone up a ton compared to Liberty. That’s all the convincing I really needed.

I had friends in Faceworld but it’s gotten harder to relate to them. Most became obsessed with influencers and buying useless things. Hearing what it did to Mom made it especially easy to say ✌️ and join G-Ma in the Metaverse.

People get my philosophy and alien jokes here. Plus, I can do and say whatever I want without worrying about getting shadowbanned.

“Things are only going to get uglier as these desperate bouge-jobs cling to their power,” G-Ma continues. “It’s time for people to wake up, realize they can be free from this bullshit and fight back. That’s our only hope.”

She meets me with serious eyes. “I mean what I say about your talent, Otto. It’s about more than these games. This world needs people like you to bring them together.”

I nod sheepishly but deep down I hope she’s right. Lately, my typical day consists of playing Samurai Squad, chilling with G-Ma in The Jungle, watching anime and scrolling through philosophy quotes.

I shouldn’t complain. Earning and owning bitcoin gives me a lot of free time. But none of it feels…important.

“Your time is coming, Otto,” she says, finally taking her gaze off me.

“Ok G-Ma, time for bed.” I take off my glasses and step to her bed. She has plenty of Soulent to get her through the night. I know it’s not possible but when I kiss her forehead her cheeks seem to wrinkle in a subtle smile.

My dad’s old wall clock catches my eye as I stand back up. It usually does when I say goodnight to G-Ma. She kept it in perfect condition before she became bed-ridden. The clock hands haven’t moved since. I tried to wind it once but the key wouldn’t budge.

On my way back to bed, my fingers run across the leather spines of dad’s bookshelf. At some point his fingers did the same. The Nietzsche volume feels right for winding down from my virtual excitement. My tired eyes mostly wander across the page but a quote grabs my attention long enough for retention:

“To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.”

Chapter 3: Scarcity

I wake to sun rays gleaming through the curtains. My eyes wander the ceiling as reality shadows memories of the night’s dreams. My morning dose of serotonin hits once they land on my glasses on the bedside table.

My senses transport to The Jungle. Falcor grazes nearby with birds overhead but no sign of G-Ma. Strange…she’s usually up early waiting for me. 

I take off my glasses and look to her bed. She lays quietly as usual. My attention draws to her Soulent cartridge. It’s at the same level as last night. 

My feet collect under my body and step to her bedside. Her body seems more still than usual. Her lips, slightly blue. No breath leaves her nose. My fingers clumsily search her neck for a pulse.  

My heart pounds. My knees tremble. My mind frantically searches for another explanation. Unable to accept reality, I collapse.

I don’t know how much time passes. My first coherent feeling is naivety. This is what death is like.

The next couple of days are a blur. I toss and turn in bed consumed by loneliness and fear. The thought of a future without G-Ma paralyses me in the present. My despair deepens until the realization of my selfish thoughts overwhelms me with guilt. I can’t even cry.

I thought my dad’s death would’ve prepared me for this. But I have no memory of it, or of him for that matter, only of the stories told to me when I was old enough to understand.

Funeral arrangements force me to act. Fortunately, without leaving my bed. Her cremation is complemented with a Metaverse ceremony.

A bright green meadow roles in abundance beyond the horizon. Oak trees scatter under a perfectly blue sky. G-Ma’s tombstone sits alone in the endless field. In front of it, her casket hovers over an open plot.

A small number of attendees join. Tourists, I assume. G-Ma outlived most of her acquaintances. They leave respectful comments but their reason for attending is unlikely so selfless. I think experiencing death helps them appreciate life. 

At least that’s how I feel. I don’t think I fully understood the finality of death until now.

One attendee stands alone. His avatar is unmistakably familiar. His frame. His eyes. But more than his features, his posture. The way his arms fall by his side. I don’t know if I’ve actually seen him before.

He catches me inspecting him. A chill creeps into my bones as I quickly deflect his view.

The officiant’s avatar is standard but reverent. He greets the crowd with a sombre smile and proceeds with the eulogy. It beautifully weaves G-Ma’s life together, including parts I didn’t know about.

“…she left her home country with nothing after all of her personal belongings were confiscated by the authoritarian regime…”

“…she worked as hard as she could, sacrificing everything to give her family basic opportunities…”

 And other parts that I knew deep down but hadn’t really appreciated.

“…after grieving her son’s death, she moved the family to New York to create a fresh start for her grandson…” 

“…she eventually became ill and incapacitated but didn’t let that stop her from living her final years to the fullest, continuing to raise her grandson…”

“…she held on as long as she could to make sure he was ready for his life ahead…”

Tears roll down the faces of all the avatars but the sadness of the familiar man stands out. It seems real. I don’t shed a tear.

“We have two lives, and the second begins when we realize we only have one.”

- Confusius

Chapter 4: Discovery

A wave of loneliness hits me when I login to the Metaverse. Being surrounded by avatars makes me feel more alone than sitting by myself in my apartment. I’ve never known the Metaverse without G-Ma.

The Jungle especially doesn’t feel right without her. I have to create a new sandbox. In memory of her, but not clouded with memories of her. 

I search for ‘extinct forest’ experiences. The Miombo Woodlands in South Africa is the top result. It’s not as vibrant as the Amazon but it works as a natural escape from my urban reality. 

Once my virtual birds and Falcor are moved in, it feels good. I think something about it no longer existing IRL makes me appreciate it more.

I climb a tall tree with a view over my new home. Now settled, news headlines are my most accessible distraction:

Demoralized, I impulsively close my feed.

The last headline rings in my head. G-Ma’s final words come to mind, ‘Your time is coming, Otto’. My eyes draw to dad’s clock. They fixate on an anomaly. The minute hand is now at Ⅲ.

My bewildered mind struggles to make sense of the enigma as I retrieve the paper. Unfolding it unveils a sequence of characters. My glasses search the text and display a matching Metaverse address.

Until you value yourself, you won’t value your time. Until you value your time, you will not do anything with it.

- M. Scott Peck

Chapter 5: Reunion

A bamboo cabin covered in overgrown grass welcomes my arrival to the address.

The splintered door opens at a slant, letting off a creaking sound.

“Hello, Otto,” the avatar says to me with a soft smile.

A chill runs down my spine. The floorboards flex as my feet slowly step towards the empty chair. “You were at G-Ma’s funeral.” 

“G-Ma, yes.” He shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

Sitting eye-level, my senses examine the avatar’s familiar features. There’s a certain fire in his eyes. I’m not sure if it’s pain or passion. 

He struggles to direct them to me. “Well, she was ‘Ma’ to me.” They begin to glisten with moisture. “I’m your uncle…Rav.”

“Uncle? I have an uncle??”

His jaw clenches as he nods in silence. The pain in his face is unmistakable now.

“Why haven’t we…met before?”

His head hangs towards the table. “That’s a good question, Otto. Unfortunately, I do not have a good answer.”

He hesitates, seemingly to gather his thoughts. “I…I wanted to be part of your life, Otto,” he stammers. “Especially after everything you went through. Each time I came close I was reminded of my brother and couldn’t bring myself to it.”

He buries his face in his hands. “My head hurts just thinking about that.”

“Why haven’t I heard of you? G-Ma never mentioned you. Not once.”

“I’m a coward….” he replies as his head turns back and forth. “Your G-Ma knew. She knew I couldn’t handle it. She was right to not tell you about me. The last thing you needed in your life was my weakness. She was so strong.”

He leans into me reaching his hands across the table to embrace mine. His eyes well with tears. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Otto. And…I’m sorry about G-Ma.”

My composure collapses. Something has triggered me. Maybe it’s the first human touch I’ve felt since G-Ma’s death. Tears run down my face. Finally.

Hands together, we weep like children. 

“She did so much for you,” he says collecting himself. “More than you probably realize. Take her final lesson to heart, Otto. Value your time. It’s your most scarce possession.”

The words bring me back to the moment. My mind continues to fire with questions. “At the funeral. You could have said something. Why the message in the clock? And how…”

“In the clock!?” he interrupts me. A grin wipes away his sorrow and his head swings back in laughter. 

His mannerism reminds me of G-Ma in her more spirited moments.

He grasps for air and wipes the tears of mixed emotions from his eyes. “Oh Otto, it seems someone went to great lengths to bring us together.”

He calms his laughter and takes a deep breath. “Well, I also have a message for you.” His expression quickly sobers and his eyes lock with mine. “It’s from your father.”

My heart drops. I stare at him blankly, at a loss for words. 

“But I must warn you, it’s not an easy message to receive.” His eyebrows draw together. “If you accept it, returning to your life of comfort will be impossible.”

My eyelids blink rapidly. “I…I don’t understand.”

“I’m sure you’re aware there’s a war going on, Otto. But you probably don’t understand how important it is. It’s about more than the money we use.” 

His pupils dilate as his voice intensifies with passion. “The outcome will decide many of the hidden forces that guide people’s lives. And on its current path, an irreversible dystopia awaits us.”

He pauses as the gravity of his words sets in. “I appreciate this moment with you more than you can imagine, Otto. We can enshrine it in gold, leave it here and I will cherish it forever.”

His face softens and gestures to the cabin door. “We can smile, hug and you can walk back through that door and go back to your life of video games or whatever it is you enjoy doing.”

His smile dissolves. “But I can also tell you, as someone who’s received the message myself, that if you accept it, your life will be filled with purpose. I believe a bright future awaits you, Otto.”

His right hand extends across the table. Beams of orange light escape the seams of his fist. He rotates his palm up and opens his hand. The Brainlink file’s sunlike rays emit from its name, ‘Rabbit Hole’.

“The choice is yours.”

My eyes find safety on the bamboo wall as my mind processes the bombshell. I should be skeptical of this man who’s unexpectedly entered my life claiming to be family. But the message in the clock…only G-Ma could’ve put it there. Or maybe even…Dad? One of them must’ve wanted me to trust him.

I squint to view the blinding file. “What’s in it?”.

“The Money Wars are ultimately about people deciding which form of money they believe in and the tools that make that money useful,” he responds. “It’s a war fought through narratives and software rather than bombs and bullets…”

“This collection of content will teach you Bitcoin’s value so that you understand its strongest narratives.”

Scanning the file’s massive collection of books, essays and podcasts adds to my unease. “This would take me like…a week to consume,” I say with dizzy eyes.

Brainlink bypasses the senses to transmit data directly to neurons. It makes data consumption about 10x faster than reading but it’s far from instantaneous and requires complete attention. It is mentally and physically exhausting.

“6 days of focus. I wish you could take your time to indulge the education, but you cannot. We don’t have much time.” Urgency, or maybe fear disguised by courage, comes through his voice.

The rational response is to resist but I’m overwhelmed by desire to accept. Distraction from mourning, the chance to know my uncle, some kind of connection to Dad and maybe even some greater purpose is within reach. I have to take it.

My virtual hand grabs the folder and drags it to my Brainlink drive.

There is only one good, knowledge, and one evil, ignorance.

- Socrates

Chapter 6: Belief

My senseless body rests in my living room while Rabbit Hole content bombards my neurons.

It starts with first principles in economics, politics, and behavioural science, followed by early cypherpunk writings. Then the Bitcoin whitepaper, its interpretations from the OGs and its references to the first principles I began with, in full circle. It’s as if I witnessed the story unfold in real-time.

My comprehension starts slow but accelerates as each new insight reinforces the previous. Soon I’m understanding complex topics with ease. A feeling of belief simmers in my state of vague consciousness. I’m thirsty for more. 

My brain tingles with the sensation of forgetting menial information that I once held precious — Samurai Squad tactics, anime storylines, quirky ad slogans ingrained in my memory from Faceworld consumption. At the same time, my philosophy studies are reinforced by connections made to Rabbit Hole lessons.

Each day I consume content until my mind and body collapse, only breaking for Soulent intake and discharge.

Then it stops. My mind begins to regain consciousness with no distinct memory of the days before, just of the information consumed. My eyelids flutter until my vision is clear. Uncle Rav patiently sits across the virtual table, exactly as before. “I feel so foolish,” are the only words that feel right.

Rav silently waits for me to become fully aware.

I take inventory of my new mental state. I’m immediately reminded of my recent mourning. But the thought of G-Ma now puts a smile on my face. Her crazy rants finally make sense.

Besides the new learnings, I feel different in a way that’s difficult to identify. Like I have a new source of energy. Exhilaration and desire to put my new knowledge into action rush through me.

“I get it now. We don’t have to succumb to governments and corporations colluding to control our needs, desires and actions through their currency and software. By taking ownership of our money, they can no longer use it against us.” I proclaim, shocked by the clarity of my words.

“Bitcoin offers the opportunity to build an alternative system that empowers individuals.” My face mirrors Rav’s stone-cold soberness. “A brighter future is within reach but we must fight for it.”

Rav doesn’t flinch at my sudden transformation. He’s seen it before.

He turns back to me. “You now have the knowledge to communicate Bitcoin’s value but that knowledge is not enough. Alone, it can actually get you into a lot of trouble. If you wish to contribute to Bitcoin, you need the tools and skills to operate in our war-torn surveillance state.”

I nod with locked eyes in response.

“Go to Times Square tomorrow morning,” he instructs me. “An unidentified man will approach you. Follow him, do what he says and learn as much as you can from him. And Otto, make sure to not draw attention to yourself.”

“No man’s knowledge here can go beyond his experience.”

- John Locke

Chapter 7: Ignorance

I’m awakened by the sun’s first rays. The night’s dreams are immediately gone and forgotten. I jump to my feet. I feel no need to contemplate the day’s events from bed. I’m on a mission.

The concrete below my feet is especially warm for a May morning. The sound of beating metal amplifies as the train approaches. An odor of sweat and rancid trash filters through my facemask as I enter the tin box time machine.

“This is the Manhattan-bound 7 train. The next stop is Junction Boulevard. Stand clear of the closing doors please,” the robo conductor announces.

The train car is nearly full, mostly of the homeless sleeping off the morning’s struggles. I take one of the few empty seats. An ad on the opposing wall begs my attention.

Together, we can make a better world.

Know someone who owns Bitcoin?

They could be a terrorist.

If you know something, say something.

I load Miombo to escape the filth. With an endless savannah view and sounds of an awakening forest, my mind is at ease to wander through my Rabbit Hole education. Satoshi’s words echo in my mind as I replay the economic events that created our current state of despair.

The 2008 financial crisis and the government response to bail out the banks.

“Chancellor on Brink of Second Bailout for Banks”

The people’s frustration manifesting into protests, like Occupy Wall Street and The Yellow Vest Movement.

We can win a major battle in the arms race and gain a new territory of freedom for several years.

Central banks’ inability to end financial stimulus.

The root problem with conventional currency is all the trust that’s required to make it work. The central bank must be trusted not to debase the currency, but the history of fiat currencies is full of breaches of that trust.

The virus catalyzing the great stimulus jubilee and forcing governments to finally let the spoils trickle to the people. Soon after it reaches their hands, the money becomes worthless through hyperinflation.

…eventually at most only 21 million coins for 6.8 billion people in the world.

The government attempt to flip the narrative by blaming Bitcoin for inequality and poverty. Satoshi, now the wealthiest ‘person’ in the world with an estimated 1 million bitcoin earned from bootstrapping the network, has become the ultimate scapegoat.

“Now arriving at Times Square,” I hear the robo conductor announce from Miombo. I turn my glasses onto AR mode.

From the foot of the station stairs, surveillance drones pass through the otherwise clear sky.

A billboard advertisement enters my horizon as I ascend. A woman in cheetah print athletic wear with matching glasses and gasmask slowly crawls through a burning forest. The screen fades to black as gold letters fade in, ‘The bold rise from the ashes’, followed by the brand name, ‘Ducci’.

A swarm of people enter my street-level view. Most are wearing glasses and performing stationary gestures — crouching, arm swaying, sword fighting, gun shooting — that are only sensible in their virtual worlds.

Otherwise hard to access 5G and charging stations have turned Times Square into the Faceworld Mecca. People come from all over to play, consume and share branded experiences in exchange for Liberty coins.

Through several hours of ad consumption each day, they can earn just enough to survive IRL and live like royalty in their virtual lives. In the Metaverse, we call them ‘consumers’ but Rabbit Hole has taught me their reality is much worse.

They’re regular people who’ve fed on the incremental comforts served by government and corporate interests until eventually satiating themselves into digital slavery.

A knot forms in my stomach from their massive presence. Running into Mom is my biggest fear. I wonder if she would even recognize me.

There are also ‘creators’ who produce experiences from their virtual and IRL surroundings. They gravitate towards centres of mimetic desire, like Mt. Everest and the Eiffel Tower but also Times Square since they earn extra Liberty for including IRL ad space in their experiences.

‘Influencers’ are the only virtuous people not wearing glasses. It’s the ultimate status symbol. They’re usually surrounded by paparazzi creators as they shill whatever brand that pays the right price.

Otherwise, there are the glassless and shadowbanned. Their Liberty and means of earning more have been seized. They are the casualties of the system.

The surrounding billboard ads suddenly converge. A 50-story rendering of Duane “The Rock” Johnson appears. “Rock out with me, the coolest influencers and the hottest music at Face Fest 2028!” he says before staring directly into the crowd with that weird cock-eye look.

Face Fest is Faceworld’s annual virtual music festival. Scheduled around high school graduation, it’s meant to be an end of school year celebration. Faceworld even ‘gives’ teenagers Liberty to attend. It’s their way of sucking them into the ecosystem.

Every 4 years, the timing happens to coincide with the Bitcoin Halving. Skeptics speculate the diversion is not a coincidence.

Many attendees login from Times Square. Partly for the free 5G but also for the selfies among the IRL crowd. Faceworld even drops their emblematic globe at the festival’s finale as an ode to the venue’s NYE tradition. The gimmick is perfectly on-brand.

The video cuts from The Rock to the festival headliners:

First, Main Streetz, three white Connecticut teenagers rapping their hit song, ‘Riding Burbs’ from the inside of their virtual Chevy Impala bouncing on hydraulics.

Then, Virtually Young Arianna Grande performs ‘thank you, next’ exactly as she did 10 years ago, except as a digitally rendered version of her younger self. 

Finally, the main act, AI-SKRILL morphs among avatars as the AI DJ optimizes beats to the emotion and energy of the crowd.

My billboard gaze is disrupted by the shock of a warm sweaty hand grasping my arm. “Pleze ser, give me Liberty ser. Me glasses es broke. I mus consum mor. Pleze! Pleze ser!” begs the extension of the hand. My focus on the IRL ad has blown my cover.

My glasses recognize the face and match it to a profile. A photo of an upstanding version of the man from a kinder time appears in my sidefeed. He’s holding a Starfucks cup with his name written on it. His name is Brad.

Enthralled by time’s effect on the man, my eyes make a second mistake of meeting those of the glassless beggar directly, “I…I’m sorry…” I stammer.

A mob of nearby glassless approaches. My naivety has set off their sucker-radar.

Then all at once, their eyes shift to an object in my background and the glassless beggar releases his grasp from my arm. Green pieces of paper fall from behind me to the feet of the glassless mob. $20 dollar bills. The loose change is just enough to distract the mob’s attention.

A burly bearded man grips my freshly released arm from behind. The rainmaker, I assume. ‘Unidentified Man’ blinks in my glasses’ sidefeed. “Come with me, Otto. And for fuck’s sake, keep your eyes forward.”

Not feeling like I have a choice, I follow the stranger.

“It is in the interest of Tyrants to reduce the People to Ignorance and Vice”.

- Samuel Adams

Chapter 8: Security

The burly stranger leads me out of the Times Square crowd. We dodge people and delivery robots as we zig south and zag west. He says nothing. I’m too embarrassed to ask questions.

We pass a statue of a giant button and needle. The crowd fades, buildings get shorter and bright billboards are replaced by window posing mannequins.

I follow him up the stairs until we stand before an unmarked metal door surrounded by chipped concrete. His physical key unlocks the door’s deadbolt. He quickly shuffles us in and relocks the deadbolt behind us.

A waft of stale cigarette smoke floods my nasal passages. Beams of light shine through racks of old-fashioned dresses that block the two street-facing windows.

In what appears to be an old clothing repair shop sits a desk with three large monitors, a terminal and an old school keyboard and mouse. Disheveled papers and food scraps litter most of the otherwise open desk space. An Aeron chair is swung open nearby. The room is otherwise empty besides a worn tweed couch and a dusty wooden coffee table.

“Your mess with the glassless almost compromised our operation. Avoid eye contact at all times. Even with glasses on.” are the words that break the silence. “Also, work on your gate. Your toes point in. Like a pigeon.” He plops down in the chair and lights a cigarette.

“Wait, who are you? And…how did you find me?” I ask, realizing the questions are overdue.

“You’re easy to find. We’re going to change that. Your identity will no longer exist. Call me Geist.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks. My upper lip quivers, “Won’t exist!? That’s not possible! My Metaverse ID is my…it’s my life!” I’m immediately ashamed of my choice of words.

“None of that shit matters now,” he cuts me off.

“What do you mean!? What do I need to hide? I’m not doing anything wrong!”

Visibly losing patience, Geist glares at me. “What’s considered ‘wrong’ is subjective and you’re not only trusting whatever current power in that determination but also any that could access your data in the future.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re at war and the side fighting for self-sovereignty is losing.” His face is now red. “Joining it without securing your privacy is fucking dangerous.”

My frustration turns to stress. The weight of my undefined responsibility pushes me down to the crummy couch.

G-Ma’s words ring in my head, ‘this world needs people like you’. My lungs inhale a deep breath of stagnant air. “What do I need to do?” I ask, half determined, half resigned.

“I’m going to set you up with the tools you need to operate safely. Of course, you’ll need to learn how to use them. I’m transferring my ‘OPSEC’ Brainlink file to you and the apps it covers. It’ll take a few hours to consume. Get comfortable.”

A notification in my sidefeed confirms receipt.

No response comes to my defence. I lean back into the couch, download OPSEC to my Brainlink drive and let my neurons consume the content.

I’m educated in the basics of computer science and programming with Bitcoin, the importance of digital privacy, the landscape of Bitcoin and security tools and finally, how to use the tools effectively.

Cigarette smoke is the first stimulus to re-enter my consciousness. My eyes blink before staring blankly across the room as I process the impact of ‘OPSEC’ on my brain. 

It’s different from the stream of epiphanies I experienced from ‘Rabbit Hole’. Instead, I feel a greater understanding of the digital world and its intersection with the physical.

As my vision comes into focus, I see notifications in my sidefeed. Geist’s OPSEC apps, mostly consisting of communication and payment tools. There’s also some sort of virtual weapon. I feel like an anime character discovering his superpower for the first time.

Geist sits upright in his chair. A cigarette dangles between his fingers as he punches the keyboard buttons. His attention is intensely focused on the code displayed on his screens.

The details are beyond my comprehension. In the code comments are terms like ‘quantum entanglement’ and ‘space-time continuum’.

“What is that? Time travel software!?”

Startled, Geist gives me a double take and quickly turns off his monitors. “Done already?” he asks with alarm.

“I guess I’m a quick learner.” 

He looks at his retro-digital watch and grunts in approval.

I inspect the specs of my new virtual weapon. There seems to be more to its bow and arrow facade. “Can I use this thing in Samurai Squad?”

“Hachiman’s bow and arrow? Technically, but that would be a tragic waste.” He takes a drag from his cigarette and looks at me — differently now, with respect.

“Who’s Hachiman?”

“According to Japanese Shinto, he’s the God of war and the protector of the Samurai warriors. The bow and arrow is his weapon of choice and his doves are his messengers. This NFT incorporates both.” A piece of ash falls from his cigarette to the crevice of the keyboard.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” I ask puzzled.

“Its real potential is in Faceworld,” he continues. “It exploits a bug in their software that allows data to be distributed to all avatars in a given virtual address, like a virtual mesh network.”

“So Faceworld is just going to let me go around blazing arrows with whatever data I want?”

“Well, they’ll shadowban you and patch the bug as soon as they’re aware of it so you only get one shot,” he replies emotionless.

“Shadowbanned…great. What other amazing tools do I have to ruin my life?” My nerves flair in anticipation of his response.

His eyes cut to mine. “The other tools are meant to save your life, Otto. Depending on the data you load it with, Hachiman’s bow and arrow could create powerful enemies. You can kiss Faceworld goodbye but their spies can still track you down in the Metaverse and IRL.”

He takes a long drag from his cigarette. “You have Tor, DEX, node, smart contract, encrypted messaging, and privacy wallet software. Most importantly, you now have the knowledge to use them.”

He leans toward me with a grave look. “Understand these tools do not make you invincible. Used correctly, you’ll be difficult to identify but depending on who you piss off, their value may be constrained to buying you time.”

“Marvelous,” I reply with exhaustion. “I’m tired. I need to get home.”

“You do that,” he responds sharply.

My feet shuffle towards the dead bolted door. “One last question…why’d you drag me into the city? We could have met in the Metaverse for this.”

“I couldn’t take any chances. I had to verify it was you in the flesh. I’m left with no doubt, Otto. You have Rav’s blood.” His eyes radiate a slight twinkle. I notice warmth in his character for the first time.

“I have been impressed with the urgency of doing. Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Being willing is not enough; we must do.”

- Leonardo Da Vinci

Chapter 9: Revelation

The stench of trash rotting in heat lingers on the Midtown streets.

Glassless beggars shout attention-seeking obscenities as I pass. I hear them, sympathize with them, but I do not acknowledge them. My eyes do not stray to the Times Square peddlers of IRL tourist-traps. I see them all now for what they are. Security holes. Even the surveillance drones keep their distance. They have no interest in my ordinary gate.

“This is the Queens-bound 7 train. The next stop is 5th Avenue- Bryant Park. Stand clear of the closing doors please.”

I escape to Miombo and check the news:

Should’ve used Tor and PGP. My OPSEC knowledge already feels second nature.

“Now arriving at 103rd Street-Corona Plaza”. 

My mind thinks through the other tools. How can I put them to work? I’m equipped to secure my communication and assets now but smart contracts…what do I do with that?

Hachiman’s bow and arrow is most perplexing. I get the power but I have no clue what to do with it. Each new piece of this puzzle exposes more missing pieces. 

My subconscious is surprised by the emptiness of the apartment. Despite her state, G-Ma had a definite presence. Questions run through my head as I collapse in bed.

I wake to first light. The night’s dreams have digested my OPSEC lessons and fused them with my Rabbit Hole knowledge. My heart pumps as my brain explores their combined potential.

Eager for answers, I throw on my glasses and return to Uncle Rav’s cabin.

He acknowledges my new accessory as I enter. “Ah Hachiman’s bow and arrow. Geist must’ve approved of you,” he remarks with a smile.

“He has an interesting way of showing it,” I respond. Rav chuckles. I join him.

He calmly walks to the clock, grasps the winding key and begins to turn it, just as I did to the IRL version days before. Except his hands know exactly where to go, as if he’s performed the action hundreds of times before.

Upon the second rotation, the pendulum door pops open. He reaches into the opening and removes a folded piece of paper. 

“You’ve taken in so much over a short amount of time,” he says as he sits back down with the paper in hand, “but the reality is you’ve been preparing for this moment your entire life.”

His hand trembles as he extends the piece of paper across the table and places it into my hand. Its shape, colour and texture are virtually identical to the one that first brought us together.

The paper unfolds in my fingertips. My adrenaline pumps at first glance of its content. My instincts immediately detect its significance. Confirmation from a frantic scan of its words sends a shockwave through my body.

My senses shutdown. It’s as if I’ve initiated a Brainlink transfer but the only data is the text in my virtual view. I feel outside of my body observing through eyes that are not my own.

Rav continues to talk but my brain cannot process his words. It’s racing like a performance drone to process the inputs of my eyes while recalling events from the past…the days, the weeks, my childhood.

Until, suddenly, the drone stops. It all makes sense now.

What do I do with this revelation? An internal battle between sinful and virtuous desires wages. My conscious is prepared for the struggle — by my new-found knowledge, my experiences and the actions I’ve witnessed of those closest to me.

The battle’s resolve yields a surge of gratitude for purpose beyond my wildest dreams.

The words and gestures that follow are a blur until my anxiousness to act refocuses my attention on the present. “I know what I have to do,” I say as I exit the cabin and the Metaverse.

I go straight to my workstation. My OPSEC knowledge and tools come into focus. I know how to bring them to their full potential.

I find an immediate state of flow, coding on a previously unfamiliar level. My programming knowledge runs in the reverse order from which I received it — from my neurons, through my Brainlink sensors, to software code.

Hours pass in what feel like minutes. Not once does my focus slip. It cannot. Time is of the essence and there’s not a moment to spare. Shadows rotate around the room before they shrink and disappear. 

QA on Hachiman’s bow and arrow is complete. I secure my coins and virtual goods and delete all traces of my real and pseudonymous accounts. Except for Faceworld. I need one more login. I run through my checklist one last time. My screen reads 10:30pm. Time to go.

“The measure of a man is what he does when he has power.”

- Plato

Chapter 10: Sacrifice

“This is the Manhattan-bound 7 train. The next stop is Junction Boulevard. Stand clear of the closing doors please.”

My glasses are on but I have no desire to escape to another world. My mind is just catching up in this one.

Rav’s words from the morning surface from my memory.

“…G-ma began your preparation when she guided you to take control of your time and money. Nation-states have manipulated our means of earning and spending through their currency for centuries. Meanwhile, tech corporations steadily optimized their products to control our attention and exploit our data.”

“Their collusion created a surveillance state with absolute power over our resources and actions. She freed you from their world.”

“You then learned the value of scarcity, the hard way, through her death.”

“The connection to Bitcoin’s principles of complete ownership, provable scarcity, and their role as cornerstones of a sustainable society made you a believer.”

“Geist then gave you the knowledge and tools to securely act on those beliefs and even fight for them…”

Bright animated billboards greet my exit from the subway station. Times Square is packed with glasses wearing dancing teenagers. Face Fest is in its prime. The grand finale is approaching.

Logging into Faceworld transforms the silent disco into a festival of vibrant abundance. The IRL Times Square crowd is dwarfed by avatars as far as the virtual eye can see, dancing to AI-SKRILL’s post-human beats.

I refer to the venue map and set my direction. Rav’s words continue to play in my head as I navigate through the virtual crowd.

”…but fighting for Bitcoin is not easy. It requires sacrifice. Sacrifice sparked the revolution and a social contract of collective sacrifice binds it together.”

I reach my destination. The centre of the venue where Faceworld’s founder stands in statue. His right arm is raised with an open palm to the sky as if he’s saying, ‘look at all that I’ve given you.’ The soon to be dropped emblematic globe awaits midnight above him.

Avatars hang and dance on the statue. I engage my Brainlink sensors to ascend past them to its highest point. My feet stand upon the crown of the powerful creator. 

AI-SKRILL plays to the energy of the crowd. Their movement is coordinated as if all part of a single organism. The thought of their collective potential runs a shiver through my body. 

I grab Hachiman’s bow and arrow from my toolset.

The crowd’s energy amplifies in rhythmic progression as AI-SKRILL’s beats pulse faster, louder. “10…9…8…7…6..!” the avatars count down in unison.

My left hand extends the bow while my right sets the arrow. My gaze turns upwards.

“5…4…3…2…1!” Virtual and IRL clocks strike midnight. AI-SKRILL’s beat drops. The attention of the crowd draws to the Faceworld globe as it begins its spectacular descent. 

My arrow levitates to the sky. Its tip pierces the globe releasing a burst of white light that radiates throughout the venue. In an instant, the light contracts and transforms into a cloud of doves. They fly throughout the venue until one is delivered to every single avatar.

The avatars gawk over the spectacle before their focus shifts inward to their digital package. Their virtual eyes widen as they read the file’s message. The same message that accompanied a string of characters in the piece of paper I unfolded in Rav’s presence:

These tokens are the seeds of a money for the people. 

If you understand what they represent, value them and learn how to use them, they will give you sovereignty.

Fight for them and they will give you purpose.

Satoshi

Their virtual mouths drop when they see its contents. Hundreds of thousands of sats in a smart contract that can only be unlocked by consuming the accompanying files, ‘Rabbit Hole’ and ‘OPSEC’.

The avatars’ jaws slowly close. Their focus flows from their inward state to the source of the airdrop. They’re looking at me.

My heart beats out of my chest as I gaze over the captive audience. 

Until suddenly, a blue screen flashes in front of my eyes. My view is replaced by the IRL young people of Times Square, still looking at me.

A news alert appears in my sidefeed:

The sound of my thumping heart fades as my mind flashes back to the cabin. 

“Do you understand now, Otto?” he asks looking deeply into my eyes.

My attention lifts from the encoded message. I place the paper down, grab his hands and nod. Our eyes glisten in silence.

An unsettling realization disrupts my ease. My hands draw back to my side and my eyebrows furrow.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I see the path to winning this battle,” I respond, puzzled in thought. “But if I take it, I don’t see how I can stay free and continue to fight. The war has just begun and we need to be ready.”

His eyes stay focused on me, “You’ll have your story, Otto. Don’t underestimate its power. The stories of today shape the future just as the stories of the past have brought us to this moment.”

“Also, whatever you do,” a grin forms on his face, “it might make sense to hold some bitcoin, in case people think it will catch on.”

My dreamlike state is interrupted by a man walking briskly towards me from the Times Square sidewalk. Geist. We exchange a silent nod and duck into the subway station.

“This is the Brooklyn-bound 2 train. Stand clear of the closing doors please.”

“I am free, no matter what rules surround me. If I find them tolerable, I tolerate them; if I find them too obnoxious, I break them. I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything I do.”

- Rober A. Heinlein