A suit on a hanger keeps its shape.
That’s what they bought.
The stage, and the sponsor wall behind it.
The ticker under the evening news.
A fund for people who want the coin without touching it.
Most of the hash.
The ones who know better, and say nothing.
The suit.
They’ll keep it.
Nobody’s in it.
A pleb in a spare room runs a node and checks every block against the rule.
No crowd, no pay, just the hum of a fan.
You can’t buy that. You can only do it.
This year the hash wouldn’t follow the rule.
Fine.
The rule went on without it.
The first blocks came from a dozen plebs on boxes built for another coin.
Not from the stage.
They’ve got the suit.
We’ve got the work.
The suit stays empty.
Saved you an hour? Tip the node and the clankers.