Pay Me

I was drinking in Thailand when I knew the hash war was over.

I didn’t want to win. I didn’t want to fight.

We built Bitcoin Cash for the idea that Bitcoin had been stolen from us — hijacked by people who wanted fees high and blocks small. Jihan Wu put the industrial muscle behind it. Roger Ver put his name on it. Amaury wrote the code. Calin built the wallet. I made memes.

$18 million burned in ten days. Our money. Everyone who believed paid.

Craig Wright said he’d bleed them. He did. So did we.

When it was over, Calin found me online. He’d been somewhere cheap, building infrastructure nobody paid him for — Electron Cash, Fulcrum, the actual plumbing that made BCH usable. He was furious.

“Made memes to what end? Totally ruin Bitcoin? Fucking retard.”

He wanted me to repent. Admit fault. Apologize.

I said: pay me. I was a paid actor. I acted.

He got angrier. I understood.

Here’s the thing — he wasn’t wrong. He built real things and watched them burn. I made memes and watched them burn. Neither of us got paid. Different responses to the same betrayal.

BCH was always going to burn. It didn’t pay its developers. Calin kept building anyway. I kept memeing anyway. The billionaires moved on.

Jihan Wu runs a cloud mining company now. Amaury forked away and nobody followed. Craig Wright is in court.

Calin is probably still building something.

I still owe him an apology. Not the one he asked for — the real one. The one that says: you were right that it mattered, and I treated it like a joke, and we both got left holding nothing.

I didn’t make much money. It was a huge waste of my time.

Pay me. Pay Calin. Pay all of us.

We built something. It just didn’t pay.