Bits & Coins

Zekiah was forced to meet with Balinese investors too rich for boardrooms and conference halls before she could indulge in relaxation and exploration of the island. Investors too wealthy for appointments and meetings, instead owning private villas surrounded by crystal clear waters. Servants, cleaners and, Thai escorts traversing the expansive grounds.

Guards patrolling at regular intervals.

By the time it was over she had no energy in her languid form, all that was left was to collapse into the sweet serenity of sleep. She looked over the balcony one last time and promised the ocean she would visit tomorrow.

She awoke the next morning to find three men sitting in her bedroom and quickly realized she would break her promise.

Two of the men she recognized, Anozie, a tall Nigerian they called "The Fixer", and Najib, the Arab. Anwan Bin Mohamed—one of the most powerful drug lords in southeast Asia—sent them. The third was a mystery, a small, pale man with thick glasses cuffed to the tiny fridge in the far corner of the room. He wore an ugly, untucked dress shirt caked with blood, slumping on the floor, head cradled on his arm as he slept, looking unkempt but peaceful.

He snored like a water buffalo.

Two weeks before Zekiah came to Bali, a pair of Chinese nationals received life sentences for drug trafficking. Bin Mohamed couldn’t afford to pay what he owed, and Zekiah was sent to collect. She’d heard the rumors about this new money traveling in code, outside the system, freedom to come and go as it pleased, and the mysterious stranger who conjured it all. The promise: real, clandestine wealth.

Bitcoin.

It all sounded like garbage to Zekiah, but she didn’t question her father’s orders. This was a man wanted by Interpol, the FBI, the CIA, and every other law enforcement agency on the planet. His reward for planning the assassination of a Japanese politician was to become a social outcast, wealthy beyond his means and a fearsome reputation no one dared to cross. This was the same man who adopted Zekiah when she was a terrified little Indonesian girl after the tsunami of 2004, yet just a few days ago decapitated a man for being late with a shipment.

. . .

“What happened to him?” Zekiah asked.

“No idea. We found him unconscious outside of a Nightclub last night.”

Anozie lumbered over to the man and dragged him to his feet, startling him awake. Satoshi covered his face and let out a scared, hungover yelp. His cuffed hand yanked open the fridge door, spilling overpriced water onto the gag-inducing green carpet.

Najib sprang up out of his seat and brandished his pistol. Anozie calmed him with a wave of the hand. Annoyed, Najib walked out onto the balcony to take in the sea.

“So, this is the infamous Satoshi Nakamoto.”

Hearing his name, Satoshi looked up at Zekiah through clouded, delirious eyes and forgot to notice her presence. Liquor and incomprehension were the first words to spill from his mouth as he turns and mutters to Anozie. A furious hive of bees comes alive inside his head.

He groans and mutters to himself. Zekiah realizes it wasn’t all incomprehension moments earlier, but drunken Japanese.

“Did they do this to you?” She asked in his native tongue, referring to the gash above his right eye and the blood painting his shirt. She was still foggy in the mirror of his vision, but he saw her now. He smiled.

“No, Koharu, this was my doing.” As he leaned in, Zekiah could smell the alcohol. “Nightclubs are no place for computer scientists.”

. . .

Najib bolted inside from the balcony. “Shurta!” He yelled.

“Police,” Anozie translated, he continued, “bloody hell. You need to go, now!” Anozie removed his shirt and draped it over Satoshi.

It was much too big for the tiny man, like a child playing dress-up in his fathers’ clothes.

Anozie and Najib spoke in Arabic at the speed of sound while moving at the speed of light. Then he turned to Zekiah: “There is a boat waiting for you two miles from here, at Sanur beach, take him and go. When you get there, tell the captain the secret phrase.”

.Within seconds both men were armed to the teeth, loaded and ready for a fight.

Zekiah was still wearing her robe and slippers when she and Satoshi rushed out of the hotel room. There was no time to waste and with a hungover man on her arm, she didn’t notice until it was already too late.

“Koharu, I don’t know you enough to trust you, but if you can keep me alive, you can have all the Bitcoin you want. You’ll be rich beyond your wildest dreams.”

“How can I do that if I don’t have the secret phrase for the damn boat?”

“> bitcoin-cli -regtest listunspent,” Satoshi replied, “what I lack in social graces I make up for in many other ways.”

Zekiah and Satoshi exited through the back of the hotel kitchen just as panicked screams and gunfire erupted from the other side of the building.

Memory replay complete...

Desync in progress...

The scientist looked at his colleague, "bring the other memory ships, looks like we need to go even further back."