I awoke at 7 am on a rainy day in August. A lot of rain was preparing to fall that day. But something felt unusual, and the air was thick with something other than humid rain water. Then I noticed, nobody was on the streets. What was happening! I went to my own TV. “Breaking News : More people are refusing to sell their Bitcoin… Exchanges and the Banks they had built are panicked … the President of…”. Hoho, it was happening.

I didn't know if I should go to work or stay indoors. Luckily, nobody near me at the time knew I was a Bitcoiner. In the 22nd century, that was risky. No, fatal. Especially if you didn't live in Bitcoin Countries. Which was most people. I had my ears pressed to B FM, awaiting to be told of the order from our gods on Olympus - the hodlers who were so powerful they could not be touched. Because a lot of people would be hurt. Like, global supply chains would crankle up into an entangled mess. Like tonnes of unwashed laundry.

“Fantastic Hodlers” we called them. They had seed phrases of seed phrases of multiple corporate, private, and individual stashes in webs of trust so complex few people could even envision it. They didn't use media reports anymore. No company earnings calls, no secret encrypted safes. It was said everything was in cerebrums and in the handshakes they gave to the people they had to, who gave handshakes to other people, who gave to my mentor - a 1 BTC owner called Rick.

It was Rick I was listening to on B FM.

“Ok folks. The clouds are charged and lightning is ready to strike. Which defunct trash cans should be destroyed first so we can actually move on… This is it, and you're here for it…”. I was hearing someone run across the street so I wasn't focussed. ‘Shit. These guys actually have power!’ I looked and I saw a wolf of Wall Street running in his suit like a thief escaping from the police. It was a very difficult time we had entered into, and knew I had to work that day. Otherwise people would suspect I had a nice little stash. I got back to the broadcast. Now's not the time to plan a long vacation. “ … will not sell you BTC until the entire country has been littered with BTC nodes in place of Fed trash cans full of worthless paper”.

That week, there was a lot of movement of military equipment and multiple global meetings left, right and centre. The running big-arc narrative was that some terrorists had stolen many powerful countries' nukes. And a lot of money was needed to catch these terrorists. A tale so well crafted I supposed whoever had spun it was working busiest of them all. To keep the runway ahead of the whole thing. People suddenly didn't know who to trust even more, and since they already didn't trust Bitcoiners aka monkian-know-it-alls, they doubled down to trusting governments some more. People were just stupid over trusting governments. Perhaps it stemmed from the family unit, trusting Dad and Mom. So it wasn't their fault but human psychology.

State mum and state dad however were really hanging onto their custody of the kids. But the thread was breaking. The hand of monetary justice, in tandem with lady justice herself, was working hard to get people new foster parents.

The dark clouds were now perpetually maintained by the burning of tires and other plastics, useless clothes, and old fiat paper in ghettos around NYC. Whatever people were keeping as mementos, but now wanted to purge. As if to help speed up the cleansing process that was trying to go on around the world, albeit to immense friction. The nuclear angle had frozen so much movement. Everybody was now tense, especially Bitcoiners. I'd never hated nukes more in my life. But Rick gave me hope.

“We have nothing to do with nukes and if this threat is real, then now is the time to hodl harder. The old guard should accept they have lost and leave this problem to us. We know what we want. They have forgotten even why they are clinging on so hard. Nobody is getting jailed. And nobody is going to hold nobody at ransom. All moth ridden debt records will be wiped clean…Hammurabi records … ”

A month later, a new Bitcoin president of the United States of America was announced. I had never seen the guy before. Which is how I knew he must be the best at keeping seed phrase relationships locked tight inside his cerebrum. He had a normal looking head though.

1 year later… The USA, EU, China, Japan, Russia and India all jointly declared a state of financial emergency and all transactions were to be done in BTC until further notice. “In Hodlers we Trust” declared President B. Maximus. “Now let's hope they decide to let go of their grip even a little”, he ended his canonical speech. It was a psychological rollercoaster like no other, and it was just warming up. Was President Maximus daring hodlers to keep their vibranium hands even more locked! Wtf.

I didn't know, but I felt he had just revealed, somewhat slightly, that the psychological mind-game of fiat was still in play. Fiat was a President's playbook anyway. Order, Decree. He might be a Bitcoiner, but he was first and foremost a politician. At the very top, you had to speak a language more convincing than facts, figures, and 12 word seeds. You had to create a Shakespearean drama.

Then one night, on the radio, Rick said “you can sell 1% now. Let's see if Maximus abuses it or appreciates that little gold nugget and never ever debases against it”.

And that’s when I knew, it was now time to go live in a Bitcoin Country. I would be royalty through the airport paying in sats. Nobody but OGs had sats, everyone believed.