Alias sat hunched over his laptop, eyes flickering across the screen, the glow of late-night research reflecting off his glasses. The desk was cluttered with notebooks, sketches, and hastily scrawled formulas—his own attempt at architecting something beyond himself.
Pegged had to work without him. That was the point. That was the only way it could survive.
But how the hell did you launch something like this alone—without being a sophisticated programmer, without a team, without leaving a trace?
For months, he had done nothing else. No distractions. No detours. Just this.
First, he explored no-code platforms—online tools that claimed to let anyone deploy smart contracts without writing a single line of code.
He tried OpenZeppelin’s wizard, tinkered with Remix IDE, experimented with ThirdWeb. The interfaces were clean, simple, promising.
Deploy a token? Done in minutes.
Write a basic smart contract? A few clicks.
Generate a DAO structure? They even had templates.
At first, it was exhilarating—almost too easy.
But then he read the fine print.
Who controls the contracts?
He dug deeper. Most of these services still required upgradeable contracts, meaning there was always an admin key somewhere, an escape hatch in case of errors.
Alias had no interest in escape hatches. The whole point of Pegged was irrevocability.
Who deploys the contracts?
Most of these tools ran their own infrastructure.
Which meant that even if he built the contracts, the actual deployment was handled by their backend servers—centralized, traceable.
Alias shut his laptop, exhaling through his nose. Not good enough.
Fine. If no-code solutions weren’t trustless, maybe he could write the contracts himself—without actually knowing how to code.
He turned to AI coding assistants.
GitHub Copilot
ChatGPT’s coding model
Auto-generated Solidity scripts
He fed them prompts:
Write a non-upgradable ERC-20 stablecoin smart contract.
Create a lottery contract that interacts with a liquidity pool.
Generate a DAO framework that requires zero governance intervention.
The results? Surprisingly decent.
Copilot could generate basic contracts. ChatGPT could explain Solidity step by step. He even got some test deployments running on local blockchain simulators.
For a moment, he felt hopeful.
Then reality set in.
AI didn’t catch edge cases.
The code worked in theory, but when he dug deeper, vulnerabilities emerged.
Who audits the AI’s output?
One exploit, one overlooked loophole, and Pegged could be drained before it even started.
Deploying required cloud infrastructure.
Infura. Alchemy. QuickNode.
All major RPC providers—meaning transactions passed through their servers.
Censorship risks. Metadata logging. Tracking.
Alias could write the code, but the moment he deployed it, the infrastructure was not his own.
He leaned back, rubbing his eyes.
Still too centralized.
He wasn’t ready to give up.
If cloud providers were a problem, what about self-hosting?
He set up a local Ethereum full node, syncing the entire blockchain. It took days. The drive space ballooned, the bandwidth throttled, but eventually, it was up and running.
He looked into:
Running his own RPC provider.
Interacting with contracts without third-party APIs.
Deploying directly from cold wallets.
It was possible, but…
Slow. Unreliable. Constant maintenance.
If his node went down, he’d need backups.
Backups required servers. Servers needed locations.
And most damning of all: He was still human.
He would still need to press the button to deploy.
He would still need to register domains, to host interfaces.
And that meant he could still be traced.
It wasn’t enough to be pseudonymous.
He needed to disappear.
Alias began thinking differently.
What if he didn’t deploy Pegged at all?
What if he only created the blueprint?
What if he seeded the code into decentralized storage?
What if Pegged’s launch was triggered by someone else—without them even knowing?
He tested:
IPFS (InterPlanetary File System)—to store smart contract blueprints permanently.
Arweave—to store critical documents with no deletion possible.
Sneaker net deployment—using burner laptops, disposable USBs, air-gapped environments.
Each step removed him further from the process.
But still, it wasn’t enough.
Someone, somewhere, would still have to press the button.
Alias stared at his screen, the cursor blinking. Was it even possible to launch something truly trustless?
A system so irrevocable that even he could never stop it?
His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
The frustration burned in his chest.
For months, he had searched. Tested. Failed.
And yet, he was closer than ever.
Pegged could not have an operator.
Pegged could not have a controller.
Pegged had to be a virus.
Not one that infected computers.
One that infected minds.
He reached for his notebook and began to write.
If he couldn’t launch Pegged…
He would make sure the world did it for him.
