(8 of 10)
At this point, big brother Joe feels the need to slam himself down on a park bench, which must feel roughly like sitting on a block of dry ice. But he doesn't care. He's beyond physical pain. I sort of expected to feel triumphant at this point, but I don't. So I let him off the hook. ``I just came from your accounting firm,'' I say. ``I told them I had discovered an error in my calculations -- that my set-top box had a faulty chip. I supplied them with 27 new numbers, which I worked out by hand, with pencil and paper, in a conference room in their offices, far from the prying eye of the cable company. I personally sealed them in an envelope and placed them in their vault.''
``So the sweepstakes will come off as planned,'' he exhales.
``Thank God!''
``Yeah -- and while you're at it, thank me and the panarchists,'' I shoot back. ``I also called Mom and Dad, and told them that they should sell their stock -- just in case the government finds some new way to sabotage your contest.''
``That's probably wise,'' he says sourly, ``but they're going to get hammered on taxes. They'll lose 40% of their net worth to the government, just like that.''
``No, they won't,'' I say. ``They aren't paying any taxes.''
``Say what?'' He lifts his chin off his mittens for the first time in a while, reinvigorated by the chance to tell me how wrong I am. ``Their cash basis is only $10,000 -- you think the IRS won't notice $20 million in capital gains?''
``We didn't invite the IRS,'' I tell him. ``It's none of the IRS's damn business.''
``They have ways to make it their business.''
``Not any more. Mom and Dad aren't selling their stock for dollars, Joe.''
``Simoleons? It's the same deal with Simoleons -- everything gets reported to the government.''
``Forget Simoleons. Think CryptoCredits.''
``CryptoCredits? What the hell is a CryptoCredit?'' He stands up and starts pacing back and forth. Now he's convinced I've traded the family cow for a handful of magic beans.
``It's what Simoleons ought to be: E-money that is totally private from the eyes of government.''
``How do you know? Isn't any code crackable?''
``Any kind of E-money consists of numbers moving around on wires,'' I say. ``If you know how to keep your numbers secret, your currency is safe. If you don't, it's not. Keeping numbers secret is a problem of cryptography -- a branch of mathematics. Well, Joe, the crypto-anarchists showed me their math. And it's good math. It's better than the math the government uses. Better than Simoleons' math too. No one can mess with CryptoCredits.''
He heaves a big sigh. ``O.K., O.K. -- you want me to say it? I'll say it. You were right. I was wrong. You studied the right thing in college after all.''
``I'm not worthless scum?''
``Not worthless scum. So. What do these crypto-anarchists want, anyway?''
For some reason I can't lie to my parents, but Joe's easy. ``Nothing,'' I say. ``They just wanted to do us a favor, as a way of gaining some goodwill with us.''
``And furthering the righteous cause of World Panarchy?'' ``Something like that.''