The Gold Rush

 

 Photo by Clifford Photography on Unsplash 

     Cryptocurrency had high validation standards. This put many people in the position of leaving money unclaimed when they couldn't access their wallets. The video authentication helped, but even with that technology, the problem had gotten worse over the last several years. When the coin split, it only doubled the amount of abandoned currency.    

          People tried to fight the security regulations in the courts, but they didn't stand a chance. The powers controlling the medium were too powerful to make concessions. Local governments wanted to treat the lost cryptocurrency as unclaimed property so that they could seize it. Finally, after some of the cases reached the supreme court, President Marsten offered a different solution.

          The assets would not be seized. Anyone who could hack the accounts could claim the money. Of course, hacking bitcoin was no easy task. The blockchain technology supporting the wallets was meant to keep the owners anonymous. Transactions were hacked, but the owners were not. The hacker would need to access to the owner's e-mail or cell information. The other option would be to know the owner's private security key. Unlocking security keys was a much more promising path for hackers. 

          This law created a new, virtual gold rush. This generation of prospectors didn't have overalls and axes. They had energy drinks and EDM music playing in their headphones as their eyes glazed over after staring at their screens for fifteen hours. During the Gold Rush in the 1800s, the prospectors didn't have entertainment. It caused high crime rates in Gold Rush towns. 

     These prospectors were plugged in so long that they didn't have the energy to cause trouble. They were unlikely to be successful, just like the people in the original gold rush. It wouldn't stop them. Stories of a fabled hacker who found a couple million would be enough  to give them hope. As success stories were posted all over social media, most of them untrue, the frenzy grew. It was similar to the gold rush in that most people didn't find anything.

     Thomas knew his chances were slim. He needed the money. His failed startup resulted in bankruptcy just before Jillian got sick. Insurance would cover some things, but if they wanted to try any treatments outside of the conventional, it required money. A LOT of money. She told him it would be okay, but it wasn't looking good. She was weak and had lost so much weight that if he didn't know her, he wouldn't have recognized her. Her long chestnut hair was long gone. Her luminous skin was chalky and pale. The sockets under her eyes were so dark that it almost looked like he had punched her. Despite all this, she was still sarcastic and witty. Cancer could not kill the woman he loved. He wanted her body restored to match her inner vitality.     

     He met Jillian when he was just beginning his tech startup. She was a brilliant lawyer who helped him through so many of the legal challenges he faced. Late nights had turned to romance, but not long after things were getting started, his company plummeted, She remained by his side, telling him that there would be other opportunities. Not long after that, he had taken her out to the coast and proposed to her on the beach with his mother's ring. He didn't care how many businesses he would win or lose over his lifetime, he never wanted to lose her. 

     As he looked at her shivering, tiny body wrapped up in their bed, he knew that his greatest fear might come true. When he heard about the opportunity to grab some cryptocurrency, he thought about the treatment options it might provide for Jillian. He was a programmer before he was an entrepreneur and he had the skill set to do this. He wasn't working at the moment because of his failed business and Jillian's illness. When she didn't need him for anything, he would work on this.

     The rush went on for months. At one point a large investor, also know as a whale, pulled out of the market, creating a dip in the currency's value. The hacking continued, but some people lost interest after the many value fluctuations. Thomas remained determined. Jillian was still fighting her fight, and he would fight his. He was running private key combinations. His odds weren't great because even if he found a valid key, it would need to match up with an unclaimed wallet.

     Weeks ago, Thomas had seen a news story about a successful hacker who had claimed a wallet worth the equivalent of a million dollars. He was tired of doing the same thing over and over again and not getting results. If he failed, too much was as stake. He knew it was a long shot, but somehow he believed that he could do it. 

     Thomas found a vulnerability after working on this for several months. In some cases the random number generator for the private keys was faulty. The duplicate values in the transaction scripts could allow for mathematically deriving the private key. The keys were known to be derived by an elliptical curve. Thomas hoped that once he generated the keys using mathematical software, he could use them in the unclaimed space. He wasn't going to steal, steal from others. He would just kind of steal from those who were locked out of their wallets because the government said it was legal. He looked out the window, trying to regain his focus. He couldn't be bogged down with morality arguments as he tried to hack the system. It felt wrong, but he had prioritized Jillian's care above everything. For that matter, maybe he would steal, steal to save her. Even if he went to prison, her life was worth that price. 

     Stealing wasn't necessary. As he sipped his third coffee of the morning, In one of his test wallets, Thomas saw something unusual. Money. A shitload of money. He slapped the desk and laughed. He got up to tell Jillian. 

     She was still asleep. She had been sleeping a lot lately. He couldn't see her body moving up and down as she slept. No, this wasn't going to be like one of those stupid movies where someone tragically dies at the worst moment. He shook her gently, then more roughly than he should have in her condition. 

     "Jillian!"

     His scream was met with silence. It looked like he was going to live a predictable story, after all. His wife was lifeless on their bed and all the money in the world wasn't going to change that. He called 911 and they took her away. The emptiness was smothering, but he couldn't leave the apartment until he had to make arrangements for her services. 

     "I'm so sorry."

     It was the sentence he heard over and over for months. He had lost thirty pounds over the last three months. He couldn't afford to. His bones protruded and his eyes were deeply sunken in his face. Their place hadn't been cleaned. The money hadn't been touched. He was frozen in time. He stared at the birds in the tree outside the window wondering what it would be like to be a bird. A sharp ring took him out of his avian fantasy.

     He picked up the landline. He had one because Jillian had wanted it. She thought it was quaint. It hadn't rung in a year.

     "Thomas Brickard?"

     "Speaking."

     "Your work on the currency was interesting to our organization. We want to meet you. I think you might be interested in what we have to offer."

     "See, that's where you're wrong. I don't know who you are and right now I'm not interested in anything."

     He put the phone back in the receiver and went to play games until he fell asleep.

     The next morning there was a loud knock at the door. He had paid rent, so it wasn't that. Maybe someone was lost?

     He opened the door and was punched in the face. A hood was placed over his head. The hood smelled like fresh laundry. At least they were courteous kidnappers, except for the whole face punching bit. He felt rough arms around his body as he was forced him down the stairs. He bent like an accordion as he was shoved in a vehicle. He couldn't remember anything beyond that because the laundry smell must have been a nice blend of laundry and chloroform.

     When he woke up, it was dark. The hood tousled his hair as it was lifted off. He squinted as he adjusted to the lights. He was tied to a chair. Excellent, another movie cliche. He was waiting for the crime boss to rough him up.

     Instead, a freckled redhead with a high wattage smile brought him a cup of tea.

     "Now, we can talk properly," she said in a chipper voice.