“I suppose it would have been better if I’d never been born at all,” said Satoshi, looking out into the snowy night.
“What did you say?” said the angel investor, perking up his ears.
“I said I wish I’d never been born,” repeated Satoshi, “So many people hate me. Elizabeth Warren won’t stop introducing bills against me. The average person thinks I’m a scammer or a fraud.”
“Wait a minute,” said the angel investor, thinking to himself. “Wait a minute. That’s an idea…”
The cool breeze that had been numbing Satoshi’s fingers suddenly stopped. The lights shining from the city nearby dimmed, and for a moment, it seemed the entire world had changed. But they were still standing there, the Bitcoin inventor and the investor, staring at numbers on a screen… no, not quite.
The screen was still there. The technology was the same. But all the data Satoshi had expected to see was missing. Everything back to 2009… gone.
“You’ve got your wish, Satoshi,” said the angel investor sullenly. “You’ve never been born. You don’t exist. You haven’t a care in the world. No worries, no obligations, no $69,000 all-time high. No Peter Schiff insulting you on Twitter.”
Satoshi scoffed at the remarks but couldn’t ignore the display. His portfolio, once flush with coins, was now empty — no Bitcoin. A Google search for “Ethereum” revealed nothing. There was no sign of Doge. Elon Musk had less than a million followers. Everyone on the forums was complaining about wire transfer fees and wait times. It didn’t make any sense to him.
“Why am I seeing all these strange things?” said Satoshi, almost yelling now.
“You’ve been given a great gift,” said the investor in response to his query. “A chance to see what the world would be like without you.”
“You’re crazy!” said Satoshi. “That’s what I think. You’re spreading FUD, and you’re driving me crazy, too. I’m seeing things here. Why does the news say the economy is so bad globally?”
“The economy? It died years ago.” said the investor with a grave look. “An alternative wasn’t there to save people because you weren’t there to create Bitcoin.”
The reality began to sink in, and Satoshi couldn’t help but look at the dystopia his absence had left. Donald Trump was still running for president but selling used socks to his supporters. Nayib Bukele was a nobody, cast out of his party and left to fend for himself. Craig Wright had several lawsuits pending, claiming he was Ronald McDonald and had invented the hamburger.
“You see, Satoshi, you really made a wonderful coin. Don’t you see what a mistake it would be to throw it away?”
“Help me, please,” pleaded the Bitcoin inventor. “Please! No one can live like this! I want to trade again. I want to mine again. I want to hodl!”
Satoshi blinked, and in an instant, the angel investor was gone. A calmness overtook him seeing more than a million coins in his wallets and a price of more than $43,000. Everything was as it should be.
