Alias and Buba sat at a shaded table on the terrace, a cool breeze from the sea offering some relief. A coffee sat untouched in front of Alias, while Buba stirred his lemonade absentmindedly, watching the man across from him with his usual mix of curiosity and skepticism.

Buba leaned forward. “Alright, Alias, explain this to me again. You say these lotteries aren’t just a gimmick—they’re essential to making $PEG work. How?”

Alias exhaled, tapping his fingers against the table. “Because they create flow, Buba. The worst thing that can happen to a currency—any currency—is stagnation. If people only hold it, if they don’t use it, it has no velocity, no life. And this is what ultimately caused the capture of bitcoin. The lotteries keep the system moving. But more importantly, they ensure that as $PEG adoption grows, its value proposition improves.”

Buba frowned. “And that’s because...?”

Alias pulled a small notebook from his jacket pocket, flipping to a page where he had scrawled rough figures. He placed it on the table between them. “Think of the lottery as a function of the $PEG liquidity pool. In the beginning, when $PEG is still small, the pay-out ratio—the percentage of money that goes back to the players—will be modest. Maybe 60%, maybe 70%. Enough to be better than state-run lotteries, but nothing extraordinary.”

Buba smirked. “And people are supposed to get excited about that?”

Alias’s eyes glinted. “That’s just the starting point. As $PEG grows, as more people use it for transactions, the lottery pools expand. The larger the reserve pool backing $PEG, the more flexible we can be with payouts. Eventually, we’re talking about pay-out ratios of 80%, 90%—maybe even more. Suddenly, you don’t just have a lottery; you have the best lottery in existence, with odds no traditional system could ever match and a continuous currency flow.”

Buba blinked, absorbing this. “And you think that’s enough to make people switch?”

Alias chuckled. “People don’t need ideology to switch, Buba. They need better odds. The moment people realize they get a better return playing with $PEG than they do with the state-run scams, the shift happens naturally. It’s not about convincing them. It’s about offering them something better.”

Buba nodded slowly, rubbing his chin. “So you’re saying that as $PEG gets used more in transactions, the lottery improves. But where does the money actually come from?”

Alias pointed at the notebook again. “From transactional flow, from people using $PEG for everyday exchanges. Every time someone transacts with $PEG, a small portion is directed into the lottery pools. Not as a tax, not as a fee, but as an automatic mechanism that strengthens the system. The more it circulates, the more money is available for winnings. The more winnings, the more attractive it becomes.”

Buba leaned back, whistling softly. “So instead of a centralized jackpot, the whole ecosystem feeds itself.”

Alias nodded. “Exactly. Traditional lotteries rely on centralized accumulation. This one relies on distributed momentum. It’s the difference between hoarding wealth and letting it flow back to the people.”

Buba chuckled, shaking his head. “You really believe in this, don’t you?”

Alias took a sip of his now-cold coffee. “I believe in the mechanics, Buba. I believe in systems that don’t need trust, that don’t need a benevolent administrator to function. This works because it doesn’t need me or anyone else to oversee it. The math takes care of itself.”

Buba exhaled. “Alright. I see how it could work. But what happens if people just sit on their $PEG instead of using it?”

Alias smirked. “Then they’re just holding tickets to the best lottery ever designed and not realizing it. Sooner or later, they’ll see the numbers, and they’ll move.”

Buba stared at the notebook for a long moment, then reached for his drink. “Alright, Alias. Let’s see if your math is as good as you say it is.”