Chapter 3: The Bitcoin Prophecy
Three weeks into my new life as Stuart Bloom, I'd settled into what passed for a routine. The shop opened at ten, closed at eight, and somewhere in between I tried to balance being authentically enthusiastic about comics while carefully deploying future knowledge like a precision weapon. The gang had taken to stopping by twice a week—Wednesdays for new releases, Saturdays for what had become an unofficial gaming night.
Tonight was Saturday, and the back room of my shop had been transformed into something resembling a war zone. Pizza boxes formed defensive fortifications around the gaming table, while empty soda cans stood sentinel over character sheets and dice. Howard was explaining his latest engineering triumph at JPL with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for describing sexual conquests, while Raj nodded along despite clearly not understanding half the technical details.
"So basically," Howard concluded, adjusting his colorful belt buckle, "I've created a robotic arm that can perform microsurgery in zero gravity. I'm like the Tony Stark of NASA, except with better hair and a more modest lifestyle."
"More modest lifestyle?" Leonard raised an eyebrow. "You live with your mother."
"Hey, that's strategic resource optimization," Howard shot back. "Why waste money on rent when I could be spending it on important things? Like my vintage Star Trek communicator collection."
Sheldon looked up from his meticulously organized character sheet. "Speaking of wasteful spending, Leonard showed me the most ridiculous article yesterday. Apparently, some computer programmers think they can create 'digital money' using cryptographic algorithms. Bitcoin, they're calling it."
My Memory power stirred at the mention, sending a familiar warmth through my skull that would soon become a hammering headache. Images flashed behind my eyes: Bitcoin at $1, $100, $1,000, eventually cresting $64,000 before crashing and climbing again. Fortunes made and lost. Early adopters becoming millionaires. The Winklevoss twins, of all people, becoming Bitcoin billionaires.
"Digital money?" Howard snorted, rolling his twenty-sided die without looking at the result. "What's next, digital girlfriends? Oh wait, I already tried that. Didn't work out."
"It's essentially nerd Monopoly money," Leonard added, taking a swig of his drink. "No government backing, no physical representation, just ones and zeros pretending to have value. The whole concept violates basic economic principles."
The Memory power surged harder, and I felt the familiar spike of pain behind my left temple. But with the pain came clarity—perfect recall of articles I'd read in my original timeline about cryptocurrency adoption, blockchain technology, the revolutionary potential of decentralized currency.
"This is it," I realized. "My first real test. How much can I say without sounding insane?"
"Actually," I said carefully, setting down my own dice, "I've been doing some research on Bitcoin lately. Reading some forums, following the development. I think it might be worth keeping an eye on."
The table went quiet. Four pairs of eyes fixed on me with expressions ranging from curious to concerned.
"Research?" Sheldon's voice carried the tone of a scientist discovering a new species. "What specific research methodology did you employ? And what credentials do you possess in monetary policy or cryptographic systems?"
The temporal headache intensified, but I pushed through it. "Well, I've been reading about the underlying technology. The blockchain concept is actually pretty elegant—it's like a public ledger that can't be tampered with because it's distributed across thousands of computers. No central authority means no single point of failure."
"That's..." Leonard paused, clearly processing. "Actually not a terrible explanation. Where did you learn about distributed computing systems?"
Careful, Stuart. Don't oversell it.
"Internet forums, mostly," I said with a self-deprecating shrug. "You know how it is when you go down a rabbit hole at three AM. One minute you're looking up X-Men continuity errors, next thing you know you're reading white papers about cryptographic hash functions."
Howard laughed. "Been there. I once spent six hours researching the aerodynamics of Superman's cape because Raj made some comment about fabric physics during movie night."
"The point is," I continued, fighting through the growing pain in my skull, "I think this Bitcoin thing might actually work. There's something appealing about currency that exists outside traditional banking systems. Especially for international transactions, or for people who don't trust central authorities."
Sheldon's eyes had taken on the focused intensity that usually preceded one of his legendary interrogations. "Fascinating hypothesis. However, your confidence appears to exceed your stated research methodology. What specific indicators suggest future viability? Have you analyzed transaction volume trends? Mining difficulty adjustments? Network security metrics?"
The questions hit like hammer blows, and I realized I was walking a tightrope. Too much knowledge would expose me as impossibly informed. Too little, and I'd lose credibility completely.
"Look," I said, rubbing my temples where the headache was building to migraine levels, "I can't give you a dissertation here. It's more of a gut feeling based on what I've read. The technology seems sound, there's growing interest in the tech community, and the economic conditions are right for people to start questioning traditional monetary systems."
"Gut feeling?" Leonard leaned forward. "Stuart, you're talking about investing real money based on intuition?"
"Sometimes," Raj spoke up quietly, "the universe sends us signals that logic can't explain. In Hindu philosophy, we believe in dharma—the natural order that guides us toward right action. Maybe Stuart's instincts are picking up on something the rational mind hasn't processed yet."
I shot Raj a grateful look. Trust him to find a spiritual explanation for my impossible knowledge.
Howard, however, was having none of it. "Oh please. Next you'll be telling us to invest in Beanie Babies or Pokemon cards. Digital money is a scam, and anyone who falls for it deserves to lose their shirt."
If you only knew, I thought, watching Howard dismiss what would become one of the most significant financial innovations of the century. In ten years, people will be buying Lamborghinis with Bitcoin profits.
But the temporal headache was becoming unbearable now, a spike of agony that felt like someone driving hot needles through my brain. I recognized the sensation from my earlier power experiments—this was what happened when I tried to push too hard, to reveal too much future knowledge too quickly.
"You know what," I said, pressing my palms against my closed eyes, "maybe you guys are right. Could just be late-night internet rabbit holes making me overthink things. Anyone want to get back to the game? I think my character is about to get eaten by that dragon."
The conversation moved on, but I noticed Sheldon continued to watch me throughout the rest of the evening. Leonard too seemed thoughtful, occasionally glancing my way when he thought I wasn't looking. I'd planted the seed—now I had to hope it would grow without exposing the impossible garden it came from.
Two hours later, after the gang had left and I'd locked up the shop, I sat alone in my cramped apartment with my laptop open to a cryptocurrency exchange website. The interface looked sketchy as hell—all poorly designed buttons and dubious security certificates—but it was one of the few places where you could actually buy Bitcoin in 2007.
My bank account showed $247.83. After rent, utilities, and basic living expenses, I could maybe afford to invest $200 without risking immediate financial disaster. Two hundred dollars that could theoretically become millions if I held long enough and sold at the right peaks.
But as I stared at the transaction form, my hands trembling slightly over the keyboard, the full weight of my situation crashed down on me.
"I'm about to bet nearly everything I have on knowledge I can never explain or prove. If I'm wrong—if the void memories are somehow false or the timeline has already changed—I'll be broke within a month. Stuart's dreams will die because Marcus Webb's ghost got cocky."
The Memory power stirred again, showing me flashes of Bitcoin's journey: the first real-world transaction (10,000 BTC for two Papa John's pizzas), the first major exchange opening, the gradual mainstream adoption, the regulatory struggles, the explosive growth cycles. I could see it all with perfect clarity, but that certainty felt like both a blessing and a curse.
How could I ever have normal relationships when I knew the future? How could I make genuine connections when every conversation was tainted by my impossible advantages? The gang treated me like a friend, but I was lying to them every day simply by existing in this timeline.
I thought about Sheldon's methodical questioning, Leonard's growing curiosity, the way they were already starting to notice patterns in my behavior. How long before someone smart enough to unravel the mystery? How long before my secret knowledge became a weight I couldn't carry?
But as I sat there drowning in existential doubt, I remembered something else—Stuart's original memories of failure, depression, the slow death of dreams under the weight of reality. The void had given me a chance to save not just his life, but his potential. I could build something meaningful here, create a space where people who shared genuine passion could find community and purpose.
Two hundred dollars wasn't just a Bitcoin investment. It was a vote of confidence in the future I was trying to build.
I completed the transaction before I could second-guess myself further. The confirmation email arrived thirty seconds later, informing me that I now owned 10.5 Bitcoin at roughly $19 each.
"There," I thought, closing the laptop. "First real bet on the future. Now I wait and see if I'm a prophet or just another delusional dreamer with access to the internet."
Outside my window, Pasadena settled into another quiet Saturday night, unaware that somewhere in the digital void, a comic shop owner had just placed one of the most prescient investments in financial history.
The temporal headache was finally fading, but the isolation remained. I was the only person in the world who knew what was coming, and that knowledge was becoming heavier with each passing day.
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