For some reason you can’t possibly comprehend, you’ve traveled back in time. But your memories—the last 15 years—are still intact, untouched, and as clear as can be.
Not many people know about Bitcoin at this point. You’re not even sure where to look yourself. What was that website? you ponder. The exchange, yes, the scandal, the one that almost killed Bitcoin in its crib. Mount Gox?
It’s trading at 30 cents right now. Using a dial-up connection and a Netscape browser, you find yourself searching on Yahoo for the first forums.
How did people even buy BTC back then? you ask yourself. Were they even buying? Then it hits you. Yes, you used to be able to mine these things with the crappiest hardware. A Raspberry Pi could do it, right?
Where do I buy that? There’s no Amazon yet, is there?
You’re confused, frustrated. Everything is slow—painfully slow.
There’s no way our computer was this slow, you think. But then you realize there’s no reason it wouldn’t be.
I’ve been trying to open a forum for five minutes, and it won’t load. What in the hell is going on?
Truth is, you never learned how to mine Bitcoin. By the time you got involved, mining made no financial sense. It was better to just buy it with cash or a card.
Then you notice a countdown appear in front of your eyes. Your mother walks by, but she can’t see it.
“Mom… what is that?” you ask, bewildered.
“What is what, son? Are you okay?”
It dawns on you: this is a two-way ticket, and the plane’s about to leave. You’ve got thirty minutes. Can it be done? Can you do anything at all? It’s only thirty minutes!
In desperation, you run outside. Your father’s there, working on the car.
“Dad… Dad… listen to me!”
“What is it, Jake? I’m busy right now.”
“Dad, wait, listen. You have to find a way to buy Bitcoin.”
“Bitcoin?” he replies. “What in the world is that?”
“Dad, listen… soon I’m going to forget this conversation we’re having. You need to remember. Tell me about it later… don’t let me forget. We need to buy Bitcoin.”
Your dad sits up, totally confused. His face shifts from annoyance to deep worry.
You glance at the ticker—only 10 seconds left.
“Dad… trust me, please.”
“I trust you, son, but I don’t know what you mean by Bitcoin.”
“Dad, if you don’t let me forget, we’ll be rich, we’ll—”
Everything goes dark. The clock finally hits zero.
You wake up. It’s 2025. You’re sitting in your apartment, the same one you remember. Everything seems normal.
The phone rings. The display says: Dad.
“Dad?”
“Hey, son… I was just watching the news. Turns out the Trumps are doing that Bitcoin thing…”
“Remember you mentioned Bitcoin to me a long time ago?”
“What is this thing? Can you explain?”
