“Libations?”
Q rolls in holding a jug of dark-colored liquid. The bottle has a picture of a turtle that says “meltdown brandy” on it. Thankfully, pants are now a part of her daily attire. I snag two metal cups as she unleashes a bag of pigeon sandwiches, and we dig in.
A few shots in, laughter fills the air. Q launches into a physical comedy routine she recently saw. The mood is relaxing. That's when I blurt out the question that's been nagging me since we began working on Xeltithi.
“Why are you obsessed with creating this crypto?”
Q furrows her brow. I gesture towards the half-empty jug and the growing pile of sandwich wrappers.
“You're obviously fine with spending USD, so why change?”
She refills her cup before answering.
“History only cares about revolutionaries, so let's revolutionize finance! Think about it. If lockdown never lets up, and you're stuck here on Eden, what are your friends and family going to remember about you?”
My response is immediate.
“Nothing. It's part of being a nomad.”
She's thrown off by my answer. Her face reddens as she throws back another cup of brandy before retorting.
“Come on. It should be in your DNA to care!”
It takes a moment to decipher her implication. My reply is flat.
“That's sexist.”
The silence stretches as we finish the brandy. Neither of us can find the words to spark up a new convo. After eating the last sandwich, Q rolls out of my window without saying a word. The act left a bad taste in my mouth, not hearing her come up with an excuse to stay the night. She had a pretty good reason: being plastered.
That night, I dream of my life in fast-forward. My friends and family take the form of fuzzy blobs. It has been a while since I've last seen them. Their features have faded from memory. The dream cuts to famous landmarks I've visited: the Colosseum, Tokyo Tower, and Big Ben. The sights and my family swirl together before solidifying into a memorial plaque. A simple inscription on it reads in cursive: “Here lies Romulus.”
Q is a no-show in the morning. She just sends email notes of what bugs to fix. Odd since we're so close to launching. Maybe she's just hungover, I tell myself. But emailing becomes the norm for the next few days. I spend the final weeks before launch in a silence that quickly became oppressive.
To make matters worse, the dream keeps repeating. Each night the plaque haunts me. It conveys a simple truth: I exist, I live, and I am dead. Just like any other man. Its sights begin to irate me, but why? Am I not satisfied with the notion I existed?
Tonight, the dream changes. A little extra note was added under my name. “Co-founder of Xeltithi.” The scene zooms out to show an old man. His weathered face holds a deep tan, and his gray hair is unkempt, flowing in an invisible breeze. It takes me a while to recognize that it was an older version of me. There's a sparkle in his aged green eyes as he stares at the plaque. A smile finds its way on his face, and I feel a sense of peace wash over me.
I jolt awake from the dream. The silence presses in on me as I try to unpack the change when I hear a familiar voice.
“Couldn't sleep?”
Q perches on the windowsill. A beat of silence hangs in the air before she speaks again.
“Sorry about disappearing.”
I open my mouth to respond, but she plows on.
“Are you honestly okay with it? Being stuck in an age when everything meaningful has already been created? The only thing we can do is help change finance. Connect the world in a way USD can't. The ultimate capitalist dream!”
Tears well up in her eyes, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“I thought since you decided to help, there was a part of you that felt the same.”
My mind races back to our first meeting - her wild grin as she roped me into helping after getting kicked out of Plumeria's. Then, the image of the plaque intrudes. I leap out of bed and reach for her.
“The rest of the Xeltithi code? Do you have it?”
She fishes a flash drive out of her pajama shorts.
“Let's launch it now.”
Q shakes her head.
“No. It shouldn't launch like this. It should go live while we're chugging meltdown brandy. Having a feast at Plumeria's! This is too in...”
She trails off. I finish her sentence.
“Significant?”
A laugh escapes her, wiping away the tears.
“Exactly.”
There's only one thing I could counter with.
“Some of the best stories have trivial beginnings.”
Pulling her towards the table, I fire up my laptop. Q hands over the flash drive, and I copy the files. My finger hovers over the enter key. I glance at Q, seeking confirmation. She leans in, placing her finger over mine and murmuring.
“In the beginning,”
And together, we press down.