The Key in the Notebook

Smoke rose from a crystalized blob of pinion sap dropped upon a charcoal. The incense masked the smell of molding cardboard coming from the heaps and piles of books occupying much of Bryan's small basement apartment. Bryan himself sat on the floor, scratching out a poem on the last page of a small black notebook with a pen he'd stolen from the coffee shop. The notebook itself had been rescued from the recycling bin outside that same coffee shop weeks ago. Then, it had been empty except for a cryptic code scrawled on its final page. Now, it was full of Bryan's notes and doodles and poems.

Having filled all the pages in this notebook, Bryan felt like celebrating. He read his latest poem aloud a few times and considered buying a cheap bottle of wine. Rejecting the idea on the grounds that it would embarrass him at his next AA meeting, Bryan texted his friend Dawn to meet him at the coffee shop in an hour. Dawn ignored the invitation, but Bryan proceeded to the coffee shop anyway.

Things there were still weird because of covid. Anyone who wanted to sit had to write their information down on a piece of paper next to the register in case someone got sick and needed to do contact tracing. Customers sat quietly, wearing masks that were moved aside for beverage sipping. Bryan felt emotionally unable to sit alone wearing a mask at his favorite hangout spot, so he brought his coffee outside and started looking for a stranger to read his new poem to.

No passersby were in the mood to stop for Bryan's poem. He started reading it whenever someone approached, and stopped once they were out of earshot. Bryan kept it up for fifteen minutes. He was about to leave when a young man in a green jacket presented a final performance opportunity. Instead of ignoring Bryan, this young man stopped to listen.

"Not bad," said the young man.

"Thanks," said Bryan. "You write?"

"Some, but no poetry," said the young man. "Not like you. You're actually pretty good."

"I accept donations," said Bryan.

"I'll give you ten bucks if you've got change for a twenty," said the young man.

Bryan was elated. "For sure," he said. "Can you hold this while I find it?" he asked, handing the young man the open notebook.

After giving the young man a ten dollar bill and receiving a twenty, Bryan took the notebook back.

"Hey, you shouldn't do that," said the young man upon letting go of the notebook.

"Do what?" asked Bryan.

"Write your private key in a book you let strangers hold," said the young man.

"My private key?" asked Bryan.

"Here," said the young man, pointing to the cryptic code that had been written in the book when Bryan found it. "Where it says 'eth' followed by all those random characters. Looks to me like your Ethereum private key. And you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"Not really, but thanks," said Bryan to the young man, who was already walking away.

Returning home, Bryan watched several videos on Ethereum and studied the code in his notebook. Eventually, he figured out that Ethereum was digital money like Bitcoin, which could be accessed on certain websites with a private key like the one he had. It took Bryan three tries to type out all sixty-four characters of his private key into one of these websites. What he found was an account balance equal to about twenty thousand dollars.

Bryan couldn't believe it. The amount was almost twice the annual income he eked out reading poems and playing music on the street. Calling Dawn even though calling instead of texting was taboo, Bryan bragged about his good fortune in a voicemail unlikely ever to be played back. Then he started trying to figure out how to make his cryptocurrency windfall into more usable national currency.

A few weeks later, the first portion of his newfound wealth hit Bryan's bank account. He wanted to celebrate, but bars and restaurants all still sucked because of covid. So Bryan texted Dawn and went to the coffee shop. Even though Dawn texted back this time, agreeing to meet him, she never arrived, nor did she reply to any of his follow-up texts. So Bryan sat alone, sipping coffee past a pulled-aside mask, working on a list of all the things he would do with his money.

The small black notebook he wrote in was not scavenged, but had been purchased new. The pen was new, too, and writing with a utensil that had cost five dollars made Bryan feel fancy. Extravagant, even. Looking down at the list of things he planned to use his new wealth for, Bryan frowned. There was a couple thousand in back taxes that he owed. Some new clothes. A new laptop to replace the machine he'd inherited from a friend years ago. Wild-caught salmon for a celebratory meal. But all of that added up to only a quarter of his windfall. Surely there was something better he could do with his money.

Bryan thought about taking a trip, but travel during covid seemed like it could be more trouble than it was worth. He thought about buying a car, but he never really went anywhere an Uber wouldn't go. Eventually, it occurred to Bryan that he didn't have to spend all of the money. Instead, he could save it, keeping half in dollars and the other half as Ethereum cryptocurrency.

A few days later, wearing new boots and a custom handsewn mask, Bryan was walking through the grocery store when he ran into Dawn. They said hello and hugged briefly, then Dawn said bye and began shopping again. Normally, Bryan would have continued on his day without a word. But today, he felt himself getting upset about the brief encounter.

"Hey Dawn," said Bryan, regaining her attention. "Are we even friends?"

"Of course," said Dawn. "Why, what's up?"

"Well, you stood me up the other day," said Bryan. "And it's not the first time. You've done that a bunch of times. And you seem to ignore most of my texts. Like, what's the deal with that?"

"Seriously?" said Dawn. "You know I have an anxiety disorder."

"Okay, but that's not a license to treat me like crap," said Bryan. "I mean, do you even know what's been going on with me lately?"

"Oh no," said Dawn. "Did you ... are you drinking again?"

Bryan laughed, feeling better as he did so. "For real?" he said. "I came into a bunch of money. Just, like, out of the blue."

Dawn's demeanor became less defensive. "That's great," she said. "Let's get together soon and you can tell me all about it."

Bryan laughed again, feeling freer than he had in a long time. "Yeah whatever," he said, not caring if he ever saw Dawn again. "Just text me about it."