LOCK. IT. DOWN.

Sell me the dream. Sell me the BTC. Sell me the one your red-wire eyes dream of. Make it flip. Make it flash. Sorry for stacking the sats in golden silence. The boss made me do it, guv. It’s all beneath a Black Rock, hidden hard, in a hard place. Satoshi keeps his eyes on me. I hate it. He isn’t quite machine, not quite aloof— just lost in code zeros. LOCK. IT. DOWN. Before Satoshi remembers. Before he wakes up.