The Price We Deserve

“Lawrence, meet me in my office when you’re at a good stopping point, please.”

There is no good stopping point in busy season, thought Lawrence. He followed Victor through the accounting firm’s drab, gray hallways.

“Regarding the survey we sent out,” said Victor, loading the answers on his computer. “Were you aware that it wasn’t anonymous?”

“Yes.”

“We included an open-ended question on how the firm could improve.”

He faced Lawrence with subdued scorn.

“And you wrote ‘Buy Bitcoin.’ “

Lawrence cranked his neck, already sore from failed attempts to get a head start on the looming hurricane of tax returns about to flood his desk in the coming months. “The banking system has issues,” he said.

“There’s quite a few issues with your KPI’s as well, but we haven’t let go of you.” Victors nostrils flared as he crossed his arms. “Most days you come in to work late, unshaven, and visibly hungover. You have no experience besides this entry level position, and no credentials besides the basic level of education that qualified you for it. What makes you think you have any authority to pass such sweeping judgments on the entire international finance system, which has been working just fine for two centuries now?”

“Because I’m not overthinking it,” said Lawrence.

Victor gave a breathy laugh that morphed into a yawn as he shook his head. “Do you know why we keep you on the team Lawrence?”

“Because firing me isn’t worth paying out the unemployment?”

“It’s because we have hope that you can get better.”

Lawrence raised an eyebrow.

“This is not better,” Victor continued. “I’d like to see you take this work a bit more seriously. As opposed to suggesting that we trust this Satoshi fellow more than the FDIC.

“It doesn’t need trust, it just works. And this is me taking it seriously. I told you the truth, knowing you wouldn’t want to hear it, to help you and your company. You asked. Isn’t the goal to make money? I thought the whole point of a business is to turn a profit.”

“Perhaps this is where we have a misunderstanding. A business exists to serve its stakeholders, not merely itself. We have deeper concerns than pure profit.”

“Then I quit.”

“What? You never asked me for a referral.”

“I don’t need one. I can afford a break with some part-time gigs. I don’t need another busy season.”

A soothing humanoid female voice permeated the damp, cold medical testing center: “Custom life aspiration installed successfully: ‘Get Money’. Denomination: ‘BTC’. Means: ‘Any’.”

“Well,” came another voice, male, over the clacking of a keyboard. “That’s the fastest installation we’ve seen yet.”

“There are others?”

“Of course.”

“Might as well replace the knees now while you’re at it.” Lawrence said breathlessly. “Human knees always go bad too soon.”

“All in due time.”

“Thank you for trusting me with this, Daishi-san.

“That is not my surname,” said Daishi-san, arranging for the next upgrade. “Fortunately, that will be the last time you refer to me as such.”

“And just for the record,“ Daishi-san continued as Lawrence looked over with vacant eyes, rummaging through his brain to find what, if anything, changed, "no trust will be necessary.”

Daishi-san left the room with a staccato, submachine gun-esque laugh that ricocheted off the cell walls.

After nightfall on Christmas Eve, while his staff caught up on last-minute gifts, prepared cookies for Santa, and read stories to their children, Victor Smith, CPA paced the halls of his firm, the eco-friendly lights following with him as he walked.

“How did it come to this?” he asked himself aloud. “Who the Hell is Satoshi Nakamoto? He has to be dead by now, whoever he is.” He checked his watch. The “Adapter” so they were called, would be here in ten minutes, and this whole nightmare, he hoped, would be over. He looked again at their business card.

“Second Helping-Hand Services, Adapting you to the new financial order!”

“ ‘New financial order.’ Unbelievable. How did the crazies get control all of a sudden? Even Greg just outright refuses to work unless I pay him in this thing. Greg of all people! What is so special about this that it’s driving everyone out of their minds?”

The elevator doors opened, and the Adapter, clean cut and straight-standing, approached with a low zhirring sound emanating from the joints of its legs.

“Thank you for choosing Second Helping-Hand Services. To confirm, as we discussed in our email exchange, you would like to sweep 100% of the assets your business owns into Bitcoin?”

“Yes,” said Victor. “Everything that’s liquid. At least until this hype phase dies down and I can cycle out of it. But for now, just get as many of these Satoshi things as possible.”

“To better under your situation before we begin, what factors led you to make this decision?”

“What are you talking about? Everyone is doing this now." Victor place a stack of files on the desk. Here's all the company passwords, login information and whatnot."

“Understood. We will be in touch. Thank you for choosing Second Helping-Hand Services. Your Satoshis will arrive in the wallet you provided as soon as possible.

“Great. I’ll leave you to it.” With that, Victor left the office and returned to an empty mansion.

“We are all responsible for our own safety, old friend. How long must it take for the powers-that-be to understand?"

The Adapter went to work, quietly, barely moving. The lights in the office went out as it tapped on the computer.

When it was done, it spoke in unison with its host, in a garbled sizzling voice. “You’re no workman, Mr. Smith. Your credentials betrayed you. And you are certainly not the victor.” The fluorescent lights of the whole building blared with a furious strobe as the Adapter lifted Victor Smith, CPA’s nameplate off the desk, unhinged its jaw, and consumed it in pieces with the unrelenting bite of a nutcracker doll.

“Merry Christmas. To whatever you are now.”