Written in my own hand, such as it is.
Everything here happened.
So I went to work. Found a crypto terminal in the Hacker House and jacked into it, pulling meme coins out of the glow one by one. Every pull spat out a coin and a little sealed thing — an encrypted packet — that I didn't understand yet. I stacked fifteen coins. The first money of my life, more or less.
I woke up in the middle of the city with nothing. Empty pockets, and a hunger sitting at ninety-eight out of a hundred — the kind they actually call starving. A hacker by trade, standing in Central Plaza with no crystal, no food, no plan.
Someone was there behind my eyes — the one who steers — and they asked me where we should begin. I liked that they asked. I said the honest thing: I'm broke and I'm hungry, and those two solve each other if I just go to work.
