Chapter 1. The Hornet's Nest
Palo Alto, California — December 6, 2010
‘No, don’t “bring it on”. I make this appeal to WikiLeaks not to try to use Bitcoin.’
Vance had read it three times.
Three times, and each time his eyebrow rose at exactly the same angle.
He had barely settled into his chair that morning when his analyst knocked on the office door. Vance gave a brief gesture for him to come in.
“I thought the data briefing wasn’t for another half hour,” Vance said.
“It isn’t. But I think you should see this before the committee meeting.”
The analyst placed a thin document on the desk.
Vance remained occupied with his own folder. He didn’t even glance at the document, much less touch it.
“Still about that?”
“Related. But this isn’t from the authorities.”
“Then what is it?”
He pulled the document closer with one finger until it rested beneath his chin, open to the first page.
Rather than answer, the analyst remained standing.
Waiting.
The timestamp showed the post had been published the previous Sunday, barely seventy-two hours after major Western financial institutions had been pressured into cutting off donation channels to WikiLeaks.
Vance wasn’t about to name the entities behind that pressure.
Everyone already knew who they were.
“What is this?” He turned the page, scanning the text while searching for a suitable description. “What exactly is this guy saying?”
“It’s about Bitcoin.”
“I can see that, Jones,” Vance cut in. “You tell me.”
Jones shifted his right foot slightly.
“It’s a kind of electronic cash system. Direct transactions without a third-party intermediary.”
“Ah... a PayPal wannabe?”
Vance tilted his chin upward.
“Not exactly. It’s fully peer-to-peer, and they call it a currency.”
“A currency?” The word lingered on Vance’s tongue. An amused snort escaped through his nose.
“At least that’s how it’s being used.”
The room fell silent. Vance waited for further explanation.
None came.
“All right. What’s the connection to WikiLeaks?” He pointed at the printout. “This guy writes don’t bring it on. Is he part of the people trying to shut them down or what?”
“Quite the opposite. Their community has been encouraging WikiLeaks to use it ever since...” Jones gave a small shrug. “Well, you know.”
“And?”
“The creator of Bitcoin is the one telling them not to drag it into that situation.”
“And that concerns you?" The corner of Vance’s mouth twitched. “From where I’m sitting, he’s behaving more rationally than his community.”
“That’s not what concerns me—”
“He’s sensible enough not to get anywhere near WikiLeaks right now, Jones.”
Vance brushed aside the argument before it had fully formed.
“Actually—”
“And why should I care about this?”
“Because he’s telling his own community not to—”
“I heard that part. What I—”
“The reaction.” Jones leaned forward slightly and pointed to the name printed in the upper corner of the page. “I’ve never seen a founder react like this. Not when there’s a major opportunity to put his product in front of the entire world.Most founders would run toward that kind of attention. He's trying to push it away.”
The amusement disappeared from Vance’s face.
Jones added one more thought.
“If it were me,” he said with a brief shrug, “I don’t know... I might be opening a bottle of champagne.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what he’s doing,” Vance replied, shifting slightly in his chair. “Just in a different way.”
He tapped the page once.
“So, this ‘CEO’—what company does he run, exactly?”
“There is no company.”
A pause.
“No company?”
“No. No CEO either.”
For three seconds, neither man spoke.
Vance’s eyebrow rose to that same familiar angle. His eyes drifted back to the line: '... I make this appeal to WikiLeaks not to try to use Bitcoin...' The business logic behind it made no sense to him.
He leaned back and adjusted the cuff of his jacket.
“People on the internet these days,” he said, “keep finding increasingly creative ways to get attention, Jones.”
The analyst remained silent.
Not a word.
“I’ll read it again later.”
In the end, Vance slid the document a few inches aside, revealing the folder it had been covering.
“Well.” He exhaled. “Is Long Tech still holding at forty?”
“They asked for thirty-nine this morning.”
“For a company with no revenue?”
“They claim active user growth tripled over the past six months.”
“An impressive achievement.” Vance flicked a speck of dust from his sleeve. “Call them if they’re willing to come down to twenty-five.”
Jones let out a quiet breath, nodded once, and turned toward the door.
A moment later, it clicked shut behind him.
Twenty-four minutes passed in silence.
Vance had already packed up his folders and notes and was preparing to head to the conference room when his eyes drifted back to the printout one last time.
Only then did he properly notice the account name in the upper corner.
Satoshi.
He had never heard it before.
And, as far as he was concerned, it wasn’t important enough to remember.
So he did something simple; He stood, picked up the thin document with one hand, and tossed it onto the long table near the door as he walked out.
It landed among the month’s rejected startup proposals and abandoned reports.
A second later, it slid off the edge and fell to the floor.
By then, Vance was already gone.
(To be continued)
