HuntingTime

Bitcoin All Time High. The resistance grows. Hunting Time: Genesis TWO WEEKS. https://blossom.primal.net/e2612a8acd5301bec67cdc70be9e37f1d31031e7c6a15941da60489c5a55b531.mp4

A fragment of what’s coming. - Chapter One: Parting Waves In the waters of a small tropical island nestled in the Caribbean Sea, far from the reaches of outsiders, a large luxurious yacht named “Victory” ploughed slowly through the crystal-clear water. The elegant boat thrust itself forwards through the crisp aquamarine sea, leaving foamy white trails in its wake. It’s owner, the notorious Viktor, or “Viktor10us” as he was more commonly known online, stood on the top deck, surveying the group of people partying on his grand yacht. He was an extremely wealthy man, who had hacked his way to a fortune in the early days of the crypto boom, and now spent his time travelling the world in between trips to his island home in order to host lavish parties and relax among the crypto elite. His dark aviator sunglasses hid his wide eyes as he gazed across his guests dancing below him on the decking. The music blasted from speakers as people relaxed and celebrated in the late afternoon sun. Several well-dressed women reclined on the catamaran’s expansive deck, absorbing the powerful rays of sunshine, which descended from above, their expensive designer bikinis colorful and contrasting against the immaculate wooden deck that stretched across the yacht’s stern. They poured expensive champagne and clinked their glasses happily as the faint thump of bass coursed through the deck. Another group chatted and laughed under the shade of the boat’s rear canopy, toasting their success with rounds of drinks at having moved to this ocean-ringed paradise in the sun. It was a very wealthy crowd, the mixture of colorful shirts and swimwear subtly accented by expensive jewelry and designer sunglasses. Most of the crowd were wealthy elites, descendants of the dynasties of western tech entrepreneurs who were spending more and more time in paradise as the world descended further and further into chaos. A number of those on board were now residents of the luxury island the boat was navigating, self-made crypto millionaires who had invested their way to fortune with early investments in Bitcoin in the mid 2010’s. A handful on board were the sheepish beneficiaries of unethical “pump and dump” schemes, which had netted them huge sums of cash during the earliest phases of Bitcoin adoption. The price for their greed was having to accept anonymity for the rest of their lives after stealing millions of dollars from unwitting investors. Other social groups on board were the bankers, lawyers, and accountants who made a living facilitating the evasion of taxes by major corporations, and in their spare time set-up the expansive fund and trust structures that shrouded and protected the private wealth of high-net worth families and individuals. The groups were subtly consolidated into their respective professions and level of wealth, yet would mingle for brief periods whilst navigating the sprawling yacht for drinks or dancing. For these professionals, the island was a cash-cow. Corporations were increasingly turning to offshore solutions, since this greatly increased profit margins for the major companies, however this was often achieved at the expense of the societies in which they actually operated in. Extraction of wealth was a professional business, and the island was the headquarters of the global operation, the dark side of a globalization driven world, supported by a debt-based, fiat financial system. Finally, and most care-free of all amongst the party-goers was an array of independently wealthy individuals who had worked on various tech projects including the new Total platform, which had recently taken the world by storm. This group were the new rich, the emerging elites, an up-and-coming group of virtual reality moguls who were charismatic, creative, and hungry to grow the dominance of Total, the widely adopted virtual reality platform talked about everywhere. Despite the mixture of characters and occupations on board, they all shared wealth and a zest for life, onto which they hung with fervor as the rest of the world seemed to wrestle with the chaos of geopolitical tensions and increasing inequality. The common view they shared was that if the world were about to descend into global conflict and climate catastrophe, then why not enjoy their fortunes while they could? Nihilism filled the warm salty sea breeze as the super yacht forced its way defiantly through the turquoise waters surrounding the island paradise. One man stood out from the crowd while he browsed the island’s features from the top deck. He checked his watch for the time and cast his eyes over his friends below as he caught some time alone. Luxury surrounded him, but he couldn’t shake the hollowness it carried. Looking out over the crowd, an emptiness filled his core. A loneliness which ran deep now that his mother had left him. Until now he’d told himself that he had everything he needed. That he had no need to entangle it with relationships. There was no need for ties or complications. But now that he was in his thirties, he could understand the difference between hardship and good fortune. Years in the Army and contracts overseas had taught him that. His memories of that life were a window into a time when things were so different. His life now was incomparable to those days, and he often wondered how he had ended up amongst these sandy shores and affluent socialites. A sense of guilt rose up from within him like the tide, never truly subsiding, and ever present. It was always there, hidden just below the surface. Overseas operations and the exposure to far off lands ravaged by poverty was something that left a far-reaching impact on his soul, yet it grounded him firmly in moments such as this and helped him appreciate the good times while they lasted. He thought back to those moments on patrol when he was “top cover” in the dusty desert, gripping a machine gun through his battered gloves, and watching intently for potential threats from his raised canopy position above the desolate landscape. He could remember the weight of his gear and the acrid heat while patrolling amongst the rocky formations. Unforgettable was the crisp sound of his radio echoing in the starry night sky, with the constant reports from HQ bouncing over the darkness and into the night air, the call to prayer faintly drifting across the sands of the desert. These memories were etched into his mind and provided a constant reference point for what tough times feel like. Whether he liked it or not, his previous military life was now over, and for the man who now stood on the yacht surveying the tropical waters around him, his awkward adjustment to the “real world” was taking much longer than he had expected. The crowd on the boat were as different to his old colleagues as they could get, yet he appreciated their company all the same. Despite this, the feeling that he should be somewhere else, doing something different was growing. A persistent force was pulling him away from everything around him, and it was getting stronger. With his adventurous spirit, he could not help but feel disassociated from his reality, yet here he was, and life is for living. His mother used to remind him of it constantly. His hair fluttered in the wind in unison with his blue linen shirt, as he thought about the pirates that once roamed these waters. Lost at sea and guided only by the stars, they may have stumbled across this place and thought they had won the jackpot, a paradise island of the Caribbean Sea. The swarms of mosquitos they found on land would have given them a nasty surprise. While imagining the nightmare of living on a tropical island without air conditioning and mosquito repellent in the Sixteenth Century, he realized that despite being somewhat conflicted and confused by his new life, surrounded by the trappings of wealth, he ultimately yearned for a fresh challenge and a new adventure. The yacht lurched onto a new heading. Owen drained his beer and rose, heading back below deck for another, his head beginning to clear of his nagging thoughts. “Owen!” said the woman. He broke from his wandering imagination and jumped at the sight of her calling up to him from the lower deck. Her gold-rimmed glasses hid her eyes from view, but he knew they were wide with excitement behind the polarized lenses. The bright pink of her swimming costume gently illuminated the crisp white stairwell with its fluorescence. “You were a million miles away,” she laughed. Owen shrugged. He had been up late working on a new project, and the fatigue was being carefully masked by his dark sunglasses. “We’re doing shots! Come on!” She tugged at his shirt. He smiled and nodded reluctantly as she darted away in a flash of bright pink and delight, leaving Owen standing at the top of the stairs alone. He looked up at the shoreline once more as it stretched along the coast towards the far reaches of the island and took in a deep breath of fresh sea air. Life was good right now, and he should treasure every moment. A jagged silhouette on the horizon appeared, dark against the blue swell, its bow turning in a deliberate course towards the yacht. It was moving fast, growing larger with every passing second. A bold white “T”, the logo of “Total Defense”, the island’s coastal security contractor, was clearly printed on the hull. For a moment, he was certain the drone vessel had changed course just for him. The intercom speakers on deck crackled to life as the dark vessel approached. “Attention all passengers, attention all passengers.” The music died mid-beat. Conversations faltered. “This is your captain. Drone ship inbound. Please remove all headwear and glasses and proceed to the top deck for compliance screening.” Compliance screening? Owen had never heard of such a thing. The drone ships were a frequent sight in these waters, tasked with defending and protecting the coast, however this was something new. The drones would regularly check ocean traffic and issue warnings to stray ships, but this was different. This was far more intrusive. He sighed and reluctantly removed his sunglasses. He’d kept his identity hidden as best he could since moving back to the island, but now he had no choice. Passengers shuffled towards the top deck, while beyond them the drone ship slowed to a menacing crawl. Two aerial drones detached, skimming low above the waves before rising high as they approached the yacht. The air buzzed with the rising whine of their rotors, a sound that set Owen’s teeth on edge. The two drones neared with ferocious speed and efficiency, ascending from the waves high above the yacht to survey the gathered guests. They waited nervously, obediently, unprotected from the fierce sunlight. They then hovered above the crowd, one at each end of the deck. For a brief moment, only the sound of the wind and the rotors could be heard, then a crisp female voice with an English accent cut through the salty air: “Attention all passengers. This is a mandatory compliance survey. Please remain still while your details are verified.” The drones drifted in, cameras locking on each face in turn. Owen watched as the drones moved across the crowd, registering each passenger one by one. The scent of spilt champagne mixed through the colorful crowd as the downwash of the drones blasted against the hard wooden deck. His jaw clenched as the pair drew near. Please don’t come for me. One fixed on Owen, his stomach tightened. A red light pulsed once, then steadied. It hovered closer. Three meters, then two, until the deep black lens of a high-definition camera filled his vision. He felt the heat of the sun on his neck, the thud of his pulse in his ears. The drone hung there, scanning, calculating. It’s rotors blasting the desk with their thrust and filling the air with a deafening buzz. The speaker on the drone barked through the din: “Survey complete. Thank you for your ongoing support and cooperation.” The voice was polite. The departure was not. Owen stiffened as drone ascended and darted back towards the mothership alongside its accomplice. They shot away across the waves towards the dark vessel, which quickly pivoted and slid away across the horizon as quickly as it had appeared. Noise slowly returned as the crowd dispersed. Music restarted, glasses clinked, conversations swelled, as if the interruption had never happened. He stood for a moment as his heartrate calmed, and passengers began to descend back towards the bar. Owen gripped the chrome rail, watching the drones disappear, the hum of their rotors still ringing in his ears. Noticing him alone at the rear of the yacht, Viktor approached. “You should join them my friend. Life is too short.” Not having seen Viktor on the top deck, Owen flinched. Viktor joined Owen at the top of the stairs and put his hand on his shoulder. “I know you’ve been through a lot, but your mother would have wanted you to live your life to the fullest.” Owen managed to smile. “You’re right.” Yet as he descended to join the others, the thought gnawed at him; fortunes can turn quickly, he knew he needed to protect what he had. Behind him, Viktor lingered, staring out at drone vessel in the distance, unreadable. His eyes lingered on the ship, as though he could see through it into something invisible to everyone else on board. As the rest of the group partied on the yacht in the bright blue sea, dancing into the sunset, the drones quickly became just a distant memory on an otherwise perfect day. Owen tried his best to bury his growing unease, but he knew, that out there on the ocean inside that black hull, a permanent record of him existed, and records had a way of re-surfacing. He couldn’t know it yet, but he was being watched by more than just machines. HUNTING TIME: GENESIS - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FK7RBDFL

Vas never asked why. The system spoke, and he listened. That was enough. Until the orders changed.

Porous borders can't stop the swarm. Nature is the only protection for the couriers below.

'Bitcoin Is Time' by nostr:nprofile1qqsxu35yyt0mwjjh8pcz4zprhxegz69t4wr9t74vk6zne58wzh0waycpg3mhxw309aukcursw35nwercdd3hzatxv56xkvnhx3cxxvnkxvmhwanr0pehvefhdfhkc7nwd9chzcmy095hvutsw9kx2vmvd9jzummwd9hkutcpzamhxue69uhkzarvv9ejumn0wd68ytnvv9hxgtcwszrsq was a big influence on my novel Hunting Time: Genesis. Have you read it? #asknostr #Bitcoin

An exclusive is coming. Some will read early, but only on NOSTR. The hunt is about to begin. #Bitcoin

The system watched. Learning. Recording. Calculating.

Subscribers are about to receive an exclusive... Should I drop it on NOSTR next? #Bitcoin #Novel

It's always darkest before the dawn. Remember that freedom is always worth fighting for. #Bitcoin gives us hope for the future

We're all hunting for more time. #Bitcoin preserves it. Stack Sats.

Borders are where resistance hides. Maps tell one story. The ground tells another. #Bitcoin is a tool for freedom. Resistance money.

Every system looks invincible. Until it meets the one person who won’t comply. Satoshi lit the match, Bitcoiners carry the flame. The resistance grows stronger every day. #Bitcoin

The world of Hunting Time isn’t science fiction. It’s the trajectory we’re already on, based on geopolitical events happening right now. Multipolar power, monetary fracture, AI dominance, collapsing states, and war. It's a glimpse into the near future 🧵 1/8

HUNTING TIME: GENESIS is now open for pre-order. Out October 21. Early access for NOSTR users... . amazon.com/dp/B0FK7RBDFL #Bitcoin #Novel

It doesn’t blink. It doesn’t sleep. Every signal. Every conversation. Recorded. The system had noticed. And it knows what it wants. #Bitcoin #Novel

AI is not your friend. Trust #Bitcoin instead. 21M is all the truth we need.