This new scene continues the story of a radical idea and the people willing to risk everything for it. Feedback and beta readers are warmly welcome.

The kitchen table had disappeared beneath paper.

Threat models.

Flow diagrams.

Lists.

Annotations.

Sofia had spent most of the afternoon organizing them into categories.

Amara observed: "You've started a war."

Sofia glanced up.

"It's called preparation."

"That's what generals always say."

Sofia accepted a mug of tea.

"Thank you."

Amara sat beside her. Not opposite. Beside. The distinction mattered. For several minutes they worked quietly. Eventually Amara pointed at one of the lists.

"You've mixed two different problems."

Sofia frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Amara took a pencil.

She drew a line across the page.

Above it she wrote:

‘Threats to Pegged’

Below it:

‘Uses of Pegged’

Sofia stared at it. Then nodded slowly. "That's actually useful."

"I know."

The answer was pure Amara. Sofia smiled despite herself. They reviewed the first category.

Oracle manipulation.

Sybil attacks.

Hostile forks.

Fraudulent distributors.

Node concentration.

Exchange pressure.

Reputational attacks.

This part felt familiar. Technical. Manageable. Every threat suggested a possible response. Not necessarily a good one. But something.

Eventually Sofia tapped the second category.

Money laundering.

Bribery.

Black-market transactions.

Sanctions evasion.

Criminal organizations.

Contract killings.

She grimaced. "This is the part I hate."

Amara nodded.

"Me too."

The answer surprised her.

"You do?"

"Of course."

Sofia looked down at the list. For some reason she had expected resistance. Not agreement.

"Good."

Amara smiled.

"Good?"

"At least we're starting from the same place."

Sofia tapped the paper.

"These people will use Pegged."

"Yes."

"They'll use it effectively."

"Probably."

"They'll benefit from it."

"Possibly."

The silence stretched.

Finally Sofia said:

"I don't like that."

Neither do I."

Another pause.

Then Amara added: "But I don't think we're talking about the same thing."

Sofia turned toward her.

"What do you mean?"

Amara pointed at the list.

"You dislike the fact that criminals will use Pegged."

"Yes."

"I dislike the fact that criminals exist."

Sofia laughed. A short laugh. But genuine.

"That's not very helpful."

"No."

Amara smiled. "But it's accurate."

For a while both women stared at the paper.

Eventually Sofia spoke again.

"The protocol doesn't distinguish."

"No."

"It treats all users equally."

"Yes."

"It doesn't care whether someone is sending money to their family or paying a hitman."

Amara nodded.

"Correct."

The answer irritated Sofia. Not because it was wrong. Because it was correct.

"That bothers me."

"I know."

"It should bother you too."

"It does."

Sofia looked at her.

"Then why do you sound so calm?"

Amara thought for a moment.

"When I was in Myanmar..."

Sofia smiled.

"There it is."

"What?"

"The Myanmar story."

Amara laughed.

"I have a limited repertoire."

"You really don't."

Amara stirred her tea.

"When I was in Myanmar, people used informal networks for almost everything."

Sofia nodded. She had seen similar reports.

"Medicine."

"Food."

"Remittances."

"Transportation."

"Bribes."

Sofia grimaced. "Exactly."

Amara continued. "Sometimes the same network handled all of them."

The room became quiet.

"That's awful."

"Yes."

"That's my point."

"No."

Amara shook her head. “My point is that reality rarely separates itself into clean categories."

Sofia stared at the table. She knew that. Of course she knew that. She had spent years inside development institutions. Years watching aid programs collide with local realities. Years watching good intentions produce strange outcomes.

Her problem was not ignorance.

Her problem was acceptance.

Finally she said:

"I still think we should try."

Amara looked up.

"Try what?"

The answer came immediately.

"To distinguish."

Silence.

Not hostile.

Thoughtful.

Amara waited.

Sofia continued.

"Not perfectly."

"Not universally."

"But at least try."

She searched for the words.

"Once we know the problem exists, I don't understand how we can simply step back."

The sentence lingered.

Amara nodded slowly.

Now they had arrived at the real disagreement.

Not criminals.

Not corruption.

Not money laundering.

Responsibility.

After a moment Amara asked:

"How?"

Sofia opened her mouth.

Closed it again.

The question was fair.

Identity?

Pegged rejected identity.

Governance?

Alias would never allow it.

Monitoring?

By whom?

Reputation systems?

Manipulable.

Every answer seemed to recreate the very structures Pegged was attempting to avoid.

Amara watched her think. Not triumphantly. Patiently.

Finally Sofia sighed.

"I don't know."

A rare admission.

Amara nodded.

"I know."

The answer contained no mockery. Only recognition.

For a while neither woman spoke.

Then Sofia said quietly: "Maybe we can't solve it."

Amara remained silent.

"Maybe we can't even reduce it."

Still silence.

"But once we know it's there..."

She looked down at the lists.

"...I don't understand how we can pretend it's none of our business."

The words hung in the room.

Amara considered them carefully.

Then shook her head.

"I don't think Alias believes it's none of our business."

Sofia looked up.

"No?"

"No."

Amara thought for a moment.

"I think he believes the moment we start deciding for everyone else, it becomes too much our business."

The distinction lingered.

Subtle.

Uncomfortable.

Very Alias.

Neither woman spoke.

Finally Amara asked: "Can I ask you something?"

Sofia nodded.

"If a migrant worker uses Pegged to send money home..."

"Yes."

"And a smuggler uses Pegged to move money across a border..."

"Yes."

"Who decides which one matters more?"

Sofia stared at the lists.

The concerns remained.

Every one of them.

Pegged would be attacked.

Pegged would be abused.

Pegged would help people.

Pegged would help the wrong people.

She had known all that before entering the kitchen.

What troubled her now was something else.

Most systems claimed the right to become involved.

To intervene.

To distinguish.

To decide.

Pegged did not.

The protocol treated the distinction as somebody else's responsibility.

Sofia was not yet sure whether that was wisdom, abdication, or merely a different form of arrogance.

And for the first time since arriving at the chalet, she found herself confronting a possibility she deeply disliked:

The question might be legitimate.

And the answer might not exist.

They continued working in silence.