A puzzling package arrived during my table on Thursday morning.
Inside: a slim poster with day-glo pinkish form set on a vibrant—almost radioactive—mint immature cover. A little (and unusually fragile) llama figurine accompanied a note. The booklet, we learned, was an mention of a literary work that’s been creation a rounds by tech and media circles. Iterating Grace, it’s called. Author unknown.
The package arrived a morning after Wired and Gizmodo published dual exposés purporting to expose a purported designer behind a Bitcoin cryptocurrency. Their “outed” architect? A indeterminate and hardly famous Australian male who—incomprehensibly to Bitcoin backers—boasted online that he had ties to governments and comprehension agencies. The legendarily pseudonymous Satoshi Nakamoto, who creatively recognised of a digital money, was a fit all along. Go figure.
Reporters everywhere—hot on a bloke’s scent—proceeded to debunk a stories, and to “dox” a newly named suspect, airing and doubt a sum of his life for all to see. Every bit of corroborating justification imploded. The man’s open encryption key, a formula that can infer one’s authenticity? Likely forged and backdated. His blog posts that suggested he was a creator? Counterfeit, nice ex post facto. His