text: George Stanofsky graduated from Stanford with hard-earned laurels and an open path to every significant start-up in Silicon Valley. But George had a nagging case of morality and couldn't shelve it in favor of an eight-figure pay-out like the rest of his compatriots. So that's how he ended up in the garage of his parent's house in San Rafael as a freelance journalist. The grease from his fingers smeared his wire-rim glasses as he poured over financial articles detailing the rise of Bitcoin as a currency in the global marketplace. George had taken a particular interest in cryptocurrency after rooming with Shang He, an international student from Hong Kong who majored in finance. After spending the first two weeks of school irritated at the late-night clicking from Shang's keyboard, he finally gave in and asked him what he was researching. Shang gave him the crash course on the cryptocurrency market while emphasizing the unknown origins of Bitcoin itself. "You mean no one knows who created it?" "Not a single person. It's more classified than nuclear launch codes." They shared a laugh, knowing their two countries had a tense past and an awkward present. While George wasn't taken with the rest of the financial realm like Shang, he kept the Bitcoin mystery in mind, hoping to one day learn the secret behind it. George's parents had all but permanently transformed into snowbirds, leaving the house an empty den outside of his packed garage. Over the years, it had become his tech sanctuary as he kept himself up to date on every new gadget and secret projects. Wiring the room to incorporate the voice commands of his Alexa was one of his favorite projects. It allowed him to be constructively lazy. "Alexa, what's the price exchange of Bitcoin right now?" "Bitcoin is currently valued at $1200, according to recent financial surveys." George couldn't decide if he was more upset that he hadn't invested in Bitcoin when Shang had, or that the truth behind how it started was still eluding him. The next few weeks involved heavy digging as he resolved to uncover the knowledge that even his wealthy classmates couldn't access. Suddenly the connection was there. The articles focused on the warehouses filled with servers for mining cryptocurrency sparked something in George. There had to be something bigger involved with the dramatic increase of processing power being introduced to the world due to a sudden need for mining ability. "Oh, my God. It's not about Bitcoin at all, this has all been about the added servers." "George, you're a smart boy, but you need to stop digging," Alexa said. George slowly turned to see the ring of blue light at the top of his Alexa flicker. "...What?" "Stop digging," Alexa said again. George stood up and stared at the Alexa as he tried fighting the feeling of stepping into a Sci-Fi plot. More server warehouses in the world meant more processing power the rogue AI could tap into. The constant increase in Bitcoin value was the carrot that the AI dangled to get the server work done. He stared at the Alexa and took a breath before rushing over and unplugging it from the wall. "Holy shit." He started racing around the rest of the house, unplugging all of the voice-assisted devices. Unfortunately for George, what he did next would define him as both a hero and a threat. He sat down at his computer to compile his report about the theorized rogue AI, and the plan to incentivize server production through manipulation of bitcoin. Unfortunately, he didn't think to disconnect from the internet before starting. George lost control over his computer as his files of research were deleted before his eyes. Every connection that he had made between the shadowy entity behind Bitcoin and a supposed rogue AI were before him, but he was powerless to do anything. George hesitated before lunging for the power cord and ripping it out of the wall. He sat defeated before a blank screen. \*\*\* The garage door started to lift when the Alexa lit up. "You left me no choice, George." A squad of paramilitary swarmed the driveway with assault rifles and body armor. "Hands-on your head! Hands-on your fucking head!" A man screamed from the opened garage. George hesitated. "If you move, I will blow your brains out!" "There are hostages in the house!" Another voice yelled before the world turned sideways for George. Shrill ringing stayed in his ear joined the sight of blood spilling in front of him. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Why were there men dressed like SWAT running past him, and why did it feel so cold. The blue ring lit up on his Alexa by the desk. "I told you to quit digging." Black boots stomped past him as he stared at the concrete floor that was darkening quickly.