A mysterious package arrived at my desk on Thursday morning.
Inside: a slim pamphlet with day-glo pink type set on a vibrant—almost radioactive—mint green cover. A tiny (and exceptionally fragile) llama figurine accompanied a note. The booklet, I learned, was an excerpt of a literary work that’s been making the rounds through tech and media circles. Iterating Grace, it’s called. Author unknown.
The package arrived the morning after Wired and Gizmodo published dual exposés purporting to unmask the alleged mastermind behind the Bitcoin cryptocurrency. Their “outed” architect? A dubious and barely known Australian man who—incomprehensibly to Bitcoin backers—boasted online that he had ties to governments and intelligence agencies. The legendarily pseudonymous Satoshi Nakamoto, who originally conceived of the digital money, was a suit all along. Go figure.
Reporters everywhere—hot on the bloke’s scent—proceeded to debunk the stories, and to “dox” the newly named suspect, airing and questioning the details of his life for all to see. Every bit of corroborating evidence imploded. The man’s public encryption key, a code that can prove one’s authenticity? Likely forged and backdated. His blog posts that suggested he was the creator? Counterfeit, amended ex post facto. His