Alias sat across from Buba, swirling his espresso in a small white cup, watching the liquid form slow spirals.
“You always talk about this blockchain thing,” Buba said, leaning forward. “But what makes it different? People still send money, still cheat, still steal.”
Alias placed his cup down carefully, as if the weight of his thought required precision. “Buba, do you remember the first time someone cheated you in a deal?”
Buba chuckled, shaking his head. “Too many times to count.”
“And what happened? You argued, maybe went to someone for arbitration, maybe lost money, maybe wasted time.” Alias tapped the table with a knuckle. “With blockchains, that’s impossible. There’s no one to argue with. No one to appeal to. What’s done is done.”
Buba frowned. “So, if I make a mistake, I lose forever?”
“Yes.” Alias leaned in, his voice low. “And that is exactly why it’s so powerful.”
Buba shook his head. “I don’t get it. If there’s no way to fix a mistake, how can people trust it?”
“Because trust is the illusion,” Alias said. “In every transaction, there’s a counterparty, a middleman, a bank, a government, a bureaucrat—someone with power over your money. They can reverse things, freeze things, change things. You think that’s protection, but in reality, it’s control.”
Buba considered this, rubbing his chin. “So, blockchain is like... a promise that can’t be broken?”
Alias nodded. “More than that. It’s a contract written in stone. In all of history, every deal, every agreement, every law has relied on someone enforcing it. A king, a judge, a mob. But blockchain—” he gestured outward as if drawing a map in the air, “—it is the first system where rules enforce themselves. No kings. No judges.”
Buba whistled softly. “That’s dangerous.”
“That’s freedom,” Alias corrected. “For the first time, we don’t have to trust men. We can trust math. And math doesn’t lie, doesn’t cheat, doesn’t change its mind when it’s politically convenient.”
Buba shook his head, exhaling through his nose. “But what if the math is wrong?”
Alias allowed himself a small smile. “That’s the thing—it can’t be. You don’t need to trust me, or anyone else. You just need to trust the system. It’s like gravity. You may not like it, but it doesn’t care.”
Buba exhaled, staring out at the sea. “And this is why you think it changes everything?”
Alias’s gaze was steady. “Because when you take away the ability to reverse things, people must act differently. They must be careful. Responsible. Think before they move.” He picked up his cup again, took a sip. “And that’s why Pegged has to be built this way. No reversals. No authority. Just the rules, unchanging.”
Buba laughed, shaking his head. “You trust this thing more than people.”
Alias’s eyes darkened. “People change. People betray. People sell out. The blockchain never does.”
Buba took a slow breath. “And what happens when the people in power realize they can’t change it either?”
Alias’s smile was thin. “They try to kill it.”
