Build It With Me

Thirty-One Years Later

"Alright." Noor looked up at the clock. "It's 2:57. Hang up your frames if you haven't already. We're starting on time."

Her classroom was on the fourth floor. Tall windows ran down one side, over the old University of the District of Columbia campus. Only one was cracked open, and a crisp autumn breeze came through. Afternoon light came off the almost-bare trees and lay long across the floor.

The seats ran in a horseshoe around one long, low table of worn wood. Everyone faced in. No second row. No one staring at someone else's back. The table faced a bare plaster wall. Against it, Noor's desk.

The chatter rose. Backpacks and bodies shuffled.

They filed toward the wall by the door, under the banner that read "Bring Only Yourself." Frames came off faces first, their lenses going dark. Then the smaller things. An ear-thread. A ring. A girl peeling a thin cuff off her wrist. One by one, the amber light in each cubby turned green.

The wall was taking attendance. And their distractions.

Xander had just racked his ear-thread when he knocked Janelle's frames out of her hands. They hit the floor.

"Shit. My bad." He went down to grab them.

"It's fine." She crouched too, but he already had them.

"Wow." He looked them over in his hands. "These still fold? Antiques."

"They work." She took them back, racked them, and found her seat before he could answer.

His eyes followed her to the chair across the table, facing his.

Portia was already sitting, watching her. "I saw that."

"Shut up." Janelle clutched her notebook as she slid into her seat. The smile got out anyway.

She pushed her notebook over where Portia could see. Opened it. Drew an arrow at the boy across the table. Under it she wrote: commons captain for NO KINGS.

Portia's eyebrows went up. She leaned over and wrote back. perfect. there's your in.

Janelle didn't look up. Shook her head once.

Portia again. you hate whole coiners.

Janelle crossed out hate, hard. Added: no, I think no CEO should earn a whole coin.

Then. the boycott takes it too far.

Portia underlined 'takes it too far.' Circled the arrow Janelle first drew. Winked at her.

Janelle closed the notebook on her. "Can we focus."

She faced the front. Portia still smirking.

Down the table sat scuffed notebooks. Pens. Dented thermoses and bottles. On Noor's desk, a glass of water beside a pitcher.

Noor laid a sheet over the glass plate in her desk and switched it on. A low hum. A square of light climbed the wall behind her. It read:

THE FALL OF GATEKEEPERS Ten Years After the Passage of the Bill of Digital Rights

She nudged it straight with one finger. Sat back on the edge of her desk.

3:00. All fourteen of them seated.

"Welcome back. It's the third session of our fall seminar." Noor projected her voice. "We've covered what it took to win Title I of the Digital Sovereignty Act in 2055."

She changed the sheet. "Last week, we learned these rights were born from the ideas on a single page written seventy years ago." She pointed up. The wall read: The Cypherpunk Manifesto.

"It was a moment where people decided they would build things that protect their freedoms. Instead of waiting for the government to hand them over. It inspired people all over the world to stop waiting for permission." The light went off. "It gave us Bitcoin. It gave us Nostr. And the Attention Protocol."

"One of those is not like the other, Ms. Cruz." Xander sat low in his chair. Hadn't raised his hand. "The cypherpunks cared about privacy. Selling your attention is public."

Noor swapped the sheet on the overhead. "So can anyone tell us why attention is listed first in the Bill of Digital Rights, before privacy?"

The wall now read:

Title I, Article 1. Attention Sovereignty. A person's attention is their own. It may not be taken, sold, or compelled without their consent. It may be given. It may be earned. It may never be stolen.

Xander rubbed his fingers together. "'Cause money always comes first."

"I never watch promos." Portia sat back in her chair. "I don't need the money."

"Proving my point." He gestured at Portia. "The only people selling their attention are the ones who can't afford not to."

"True. But Portia is exaggerating." She turned to Portia. "You watch them on shows you like."

"Yeah," Portia said. "To support them. How else will they keep making them?"

Janelle put it back to the room. "I think it's about having the choice. To sell. And protect your attention from being stolen."

Xander sat up. "But that's still not freedom."

"It's consent and a paycheck." Janelle shrugged. "That sounds like a job to me."

"But I guess..." Portia was thinking out loud. "Getting people to opt in was easy back then. They were already addicted to their phones."

"No one was forcing them." Kareem spun his bottle on the table. "Wasn't it like seven or eight hours of screen time a day for most people?"

A guy stopped, thermos halfway to his mouth. "Seven hours? That's insane."

"We have to remember, the feeds were designed to trap them. Every minute sold to advertisers." Noor set her glass down. "Yes, seven hours a day. Actually, eight if you were a teenager."

"But how was that legal?" A kid two seats down had stopped peeling his orange.

"Because the internet was new. And very centralized," Noor continued. "No one had caught up to what it was doing to people. Everyone got lonelier and angrier by the year, and the algorithm fed on both."

Someone mumbled "iPad babies" under their breath. A laugh went around the table.

"Careful." Noor raised a finger. "It's easy to vilify that generation. Their parents thought they were giving them a leg up. They didn't understand how dangerous it was."

"Ms. Cruz, wasn't it like, mandatory?" Portia had her chin in her hand. "They were handing out tablets in kindergarten."

"Yes. Thankfully, now we know classrooms should be a screen-free space." Noor's hand waved over the "Bring Only Yourself" banner.

"Kids, fine. Why were adults on tech that was so bad for them?" Kareem turned a palm up. "People need to take personal responsibility."

"Are you aware how aggressive surveillance capitalism was in the '20s?" Janelle tilted her head at him. "They were constantly listening to people through their phones." "That's actually not true." Xander leaned forward. "They weren't listening. Instead, they had every tap, everything you paused on, and what you typed and deleted before you even sent it. People were convinced their phones were listening because the guesses were that good."

"Right, so you could even say that's worse." Janelle turned back to him. "It was data theft."

Xander pointed at her. "Exactly."

Seven miles south of campus, a rocket was coming down at the old airport. A few seconds later the boom rolled through the cracked window. A double crack, half a beat apart. The water in Noor's glass rippled and went still.

Nobody looked up.

"So why are we judging them?" Portia rolled her bottle between her palms. "My dad says a minute of attention used to go for a thousand sats on NextBlock."

"Imagine watching three promos for that today," Kareem said. "I could take us all out tonight."

The room laughed.

"That's right. But it wasn't much back in the '20s," Noor said. "Attention was always being sold. NextBlock made it yours to sell in an open market."

Xander shook his head. "Why are we romanticizing what they did? They made people verify themselves. Data the government could reach."

"Are you serious?" Janelle huffed a laugh. "Every single app was doing that already. None of those people were anonymous cypherpunks. They barely understood Bitcoin. How else would they have figured it out, without getting paid to watch promos?"

"So we should idolize corporate tech?" Xander waved a hand from Janelle to Noor. "Ms. Cruz, come on."

"I think the NextBlock founders would agree with you, Xander." She sat up. "Actually, I know they would. Some of you may know I grew up very close to them. They're like an aunt and uncle to me."

"No way." A couple of them said it at once. "Wait, you're serious?"

"My mom went to college with Maya Reis. They were roommates back in the '20s when she met Shayan Yousefi." Noor almost laughed. "NextBlock started in my mom's living room."

A kid near the front sat up. "Wait, they're from DC?"

"I thought they moved to Iran after the revolution?" another student asked.

"They come and go," Noor answered. "Back in the '40s they bought a whole block by Logan Circle, to help rebuild their old neighborhood after the collapse."

"The only place on that block they don't own is the Corner Cafe." Noor nodded toward the windows. "One of the oldest cafes in the city. Forty years ago, Maya talked the owner's son into buying Bitcoin. He held on, and never had to sell."

"Before they launched NextBlock, she sat in that booth every Saturday giving away Bitcoin advice. Usually no one showed up."

"That's wild." A girl down the table twisted her hair up off her neck. "Can you imagine her just sitting in a booth, waiting for someone to ask about Bitcoin?"

Xander tipped his chair back. "All she did was help make more kings."

Janelle set down her pen. "Her work actually helped fix the first thing your cypherpunks cared about."

Xander opened his mouth. Closed it.

"She's right." Noor tipped her head at Janelle. "The cypherpunks wanted to kill email spam. Back when anyone could email anyone. They wanted to do it with proof of work. Make every sender pay a tiny cost. It just never caught on. Not until people started controlling access to their attention on the protocol."

Someone's head came up. "Pay to Message uses the Attention Protocol?"

"Yup." Janelle turned to Xander. "Pay to message, call, email. Before it, there were more bots than people online with no real way to block them."

Xander lifted both hands off the table. "Thank you, founders."

Everyone chuckled. Even Janelle.

"My bias aside," Noor continued. "Yes, they laid the groundwork. But adoption of all these ideas took time. When the first pay-to-message services launched, few people thought it would work."

"Why not?" Portia said. "Who'd want to keep a number a stranger could call for free?"

Noor opened her hands. "Why didn't people want to sell their dollars for Bitcoin?"

Knowing laughs went around.

Noor looked from face to face. "When you're early on a new idea, the isolation is what makes you give up."

"New ideas take years to win. And bad ideas that are better funded are there to distract us." Xander brought his chair down. "How many people lost everything in the '30s betting on AmeriCoin over Bitcoin?"

"Too many," Noor said. "The only reason my family came through it was because of my father. I'm proud to say he was the first attention broker. Putting a price on a minute of attention, with data from an open market, changed everything."

"My uncle's an attention broker, too." A guy halfway down the table laced his hands behind his head.

"My mom was, before she had me." Someone across from him.

Noor smiled. "It's honest work."

"My grandparents lost everything in the '30s." A voice down the table.

The room went quiet.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Noor looked at him. "Unfortunately, that was the story of most Americans."

"So, what are they doing now?" A student folded a gum wrapper into smaller and smaller squares. "The founders?"

"Enjoying their grandchildren." Noor sat back. "Maya's spent decades on the reclaim-your-identity movement, ever since she traced her own Native roots. Shayan stayed on digital rights. Article 1 compliance is still his fight." Portia didn't look up from her doodling. "Those tags are on everything now."

"They don't mean anything." Xander turned his hand over. "Nobody checks."

"Yeah. Tender's supposedly compliant." Janelle made air quotes. "It just leaves out that your girlfriend's whole personality is based on sponsored context."

"Who even still uses Tender?" Portia wrinkled her nose.

"Like fifty million people?" Kareem shrugged. "My cousin's first boyfriend was an AI. She called it practice."

The room groaned.

"What?" Kareem grinned. "It's a first love that'll never break her heart."

"That's not love." Xander didn't grin back. "The risk is the whole point."

Keeping the rest of herself still, Portia drove her elbow into Janelle's ribs.

Janelle blocked it, knocking her bottle off the table. It clanged off the floor.

All eyes shot to Janelle. Hers were on Xander.

He laughed under his breath. Then met her eyes. "Don't you agree?"

Janelle's mouth hung open for a moment. "Yeah... fake only feels good for so long."

"I just don't see how anyone could trust these apps." She sat tall again. "And they're funded by yet another evil hundred-coiner."

Xander pulled himself up in his chair. "The wealthy sovereigns don't care about us. We have half of Montana fenced off by a guy who already named his daughter his heir."

"But what's No Kings gonna do, seize it?" It was just the two of them now.

"Is it seizing when it was never really theirs?" He turned to Noor. "Half this city's still in court over who the land belongs to. Right, Ms. Cruz? People are paying mortgages on ground they might not own in a decade."

Eyes jumped to the window. Seven years ago, the Piscataway won this land back in court. They opted to make it a commons, ground no one could own and anyone could use.

"And if we take it back by force, what are we?" Janelle planted herself on the table and leaned in. "The next kings."

Xander didn't move. "Letting them build fiefdoms before any of it's settled is dangerous. They already say, out loud, they can do whatever they want. So forgive me if I don't trust that they care about our digital rights."

Janelle let her eyes linger on his. Then she was the one who looked away.

"Whether it's the fiat overlords or now the early-coiners, there will always be someone trying to become your gatekeeper." Noor opened a hand to the room. "Xander is naming a real threat. That fight doesn't end. It just moves."

The light had gone amber across the table. The breeze through the window had turned cold.

"Well, you can't take people's Bitcoin away." Janelle sat back, drumming a finger on the table. "But you could make them prove their compliance. Not a sticker that the app slaps on itself. Real proof."

Xander caught himself. Looked away from her mouth. "But who verifies it?"

He answered himself before she could. "Nobody. You put it on a web of trust. The people you already trust vouch for what's real, and it spreads from there. Nobody to buy off."

"And you can see the whole chain," Janelle added. "Who vouched, all the way back."

Xander grinned at her. "It could work."

Janelle looked down, then at Noor. "What do you think, Ms. Cruz? Would your aunt and uncle approve?"

"Not that you need their permission... but you can ask them yourself." Noor got up from her seat. "Next year is the 40th anniversary of the Attention Protocol. I'll be hosting a two-day seminar this spring with the founders."

She walked over to the wall. "You're all going to have ideas the world isn't ready for. Most people won't follow you to them."

She looked at the room. "But the ones who do? Those are your people. Build with them."

"So what does that kind of conviction sound like?" She hit a switch and the lights came down. "Let's go back in time, before you were all born. 2034. The fiat years."

A few of them smiled at that.

"This is the first time the people who created the Attention Protocol had to defend it, in front of a Congress that wanted it gone. Everything you're about to hear them say was radical for that time."

The students leaned back in their chairs. Closed their eyes to listen.

"We'll adjourn when it's finished." Noor started the audio.

Everyone's minds went back thirty-one years. A gavel. Shuffling paper. A senator's voice climbing, more ridiculous with every question.

Eventually the recording narrowed to two voices.

By then, the room had gone still. Maya and Shayan.

Xander let his head rest in his hand. His eyes had fallen on Janelle.

Hers stayed closed the whole recording. But her smile was getting wider.

Now Maya was speaking. They could hear the gallery loud behind her.

"The heist is over," Maya declared. "You cannot steal our attention anymore."

The applause started. Noor switched on the lights.

Everyone stretched and shuffled to the wall for their things.

"See everyone after the Day of Mourning." Noor raised a fist. "Thank you for sharing your attention here today."

The room emptied around them. Chairs scraped. The door swung open and shut.

Janelle crossed to her cubby. It was empty.

She turned and saw Xander leaning against the wall. Her frames in his hand. He was folding them slowly.

She walked up to him. "Getting nostalgic?"

He pushed himself off the wall. Close enough now that she had to look up at him.

"So." He held them out to her. "That idea. Wanna build it with me?"

Thirty-Nine Years Earlier

The city had gone almost still. It had been pouring for two days. Rain the forecast missed. Memorial Day weekend, washed out up and down the coast.

Shayan's apartment was in motion. He had a wall half cleared. Maya's books rose in towers against the bookshelf. Their plants now crowded his windowsill. Her eight by six whiteboard leaned against the back of the couch. Boxes and bags everywhere.

Maya stood at the refrigerator. Six months of them now on display. A beach in Costa Rica. The volcano in El Salvador. Cherry blossoms at the Tidal Basin. A trail in the Shenandoah. The two of them squinting into one sun after another.

Maya picked up a save-the-date magnet. A photo of Leyla and Nima with tomorrow's date. "I still can't believe this is happening. Where's the fire?" Shayan held a drill, a nail clamped between his teeth. "People say the same thing about us."

She turned to dig through another box on the kitchen counter. "Finally." She held it up for him to see. The Conrer Cafe mug, misprint stamped across it. "Where's yours?"

He came around the island, his hand skimming her waist. At the fridge he stopped to touch the photos she'd added, then opened the cabinet for his mug.

He pulled her into his side and lifted his phone. They smiled at themselves on the screen, and he kissed her cheek.

He took the photo and pulled away. "I have something for you."

Shayan disappeared down the hall.

"It's not dinner, is it? I'm starving." Maya called after him.

He reappeared with something behind his back.

He walked slowly towards her. "You know it always rains on Memorial Day?"

She leaned back against the counter. "Oh, is that right?"

He came a step closer. "It's why I spent last Memorial Day in Vegas."

She rolled her eyes. Grinned.

"Exactly a year ago, I walked into my first Bitcoin conference." He kept one hand behind his back. The other slid around her waist.

She looped her arms behind his neck. "I think I remember seeing you there."

She felt the laugh go through him. "Well, that's the thing. There's no proof of that. We never took a photo."

Maya poked his nose. "My ghost."

"But it was worth the wait." He brought his hidden hand around and pressed a framed photo into hers. "The first one we eventually took is still my favorite."

She looked down at it. The selfie from right before the fight. The two of them crammed into their booth at the Cafe.

She laughed. "You're lucky I hadn't deleted it!"

"I know." He pressed his lips hard against hers. Let go. "I am very lucky."

He set the frame on the counter and lifted her onto the edge of it. Stepped between her knees. One hand spread at the small of her back, the other pushed into her hair as he kissed her.

The door buzzed.

His hands slid off her, slow. "And there's dinner."

"You always know I'm hungry before I do." Maya gave him a quick peck and let him go.

She hopped off the counter. And grabbed her phone.

"Ken said he'll come tomorrow morning to help hang the board." Shayan walked back with two stuffed bags of Thai delivery. "I'm officially done for the night."

"Me too." She tried to grab one of the bags.

He swung the bags out of reach. "Go sit."

She was already back to typing.

"That doesn't look like done." He set the bags down and cracked the lids. Green curry. Jasmine rice. Basil and lime. The smell reached her, and she looked up.

"It's the agent." She sank to the floor. Phone still in her hand. "I can talk to it from my phone now. I'll set it up for you tomorrow."

"When I tell you, you're my dream girl..." He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. Sat down and started building her a plate. She waved him off. Eyes back down to the screen. "It's working so well. I think I worked out the structure we'd want. For when we start taking investors."

He stopped. "Investors?"

"Just so we're ready." She shrugged. "For when we need it."

"Since when will we need investors?"

She set the phone face down. "Just being responsible. It's taking longer to launch than I thought."

He waited.

"It's a shitstorm out there. We haven't earned anything, and I'm about to hit a year since I quit." Her hand cut the air. "I'd sleep better with a cushion."

"Maya."

"I don't mean let's fly to California and meet with VCs." She looked right at him. "Just offering it to family. Friends."

A breath punched out of him, and his face stopped her. "What? We have a good idea."

"We've got enough in savings, and you know it." He set the plates down.

She gestured at the whiteboard. "But this might be what finally gets them to take it seriously. And maybe realize why they need Bitcoin."

"So is it the money we need?" He reached over and squeezed her knee. "Or them saying you're right?"

She pressed her hands to her face. "I'm so sick of all of them looking at me like I'm reckless."

"Going all in on Bitcoin." He counted them off on his fingers. "Quitting your job. Moving in with a man you met in Vegas."

"Can you blame me?" She stole a spring roll off his plate. "He was so hot."

He grinned. Let her steal another.

"Maya." He reached for her hand. Kissed the palm. "We knew this part of the cycle would be brutal. And we know it's temporary. But nothing we say at that party tomorrow will convince anyone that Bitcoin isn't dead."

She blew out a breath. "Everyone's going to be so careful with me."

"My love. I say this with love." He said it around a mouthful. "No one will give a fuck about us tomorrow."

"Thanks?" She popped a piece of his chicken in her mouth.

He laughed. "It's Nima and Leyla's day. You know they've spent weeks going back and forth about canceling. They can't reach anyone in Iran."

The smile left her.

"Ken was laid off three months ago, and still hasn't told anyone but you and me." He spooned more curry over his rice. "Salma and Gabriel will be in their own world. And Aisha is about to pop."

Her eyes went to the ceiling. "I know, but they're gonna ask. And I'll spend so long trying to explain..."

"Then don't. Let them be worried." He pushed his plate aside. "We do sound crazy."

He spread out his arms. "Social media reimagined."

She added jazz hands. "As a city where everyone gets their own block!"

Shayan had gotten her to laugh.

She set her fork down. "I'm just ready for people to see it."

"People close to the problem get it. Look at Gabriel and Rafael." He pointed his fork at her.

"So all our hope hinges on two people?" She drew her knees up to her chest.

He shook his head. "My conviction comes from you."

She tilted her head. Held his eyes. "I love you."

He set his fork across the container. "Even if this whole thing fails." He looked around the room. Her things already blended with his. "We've already made it."

Her knees came down.

"We've got my mortgage locked in at a pandemic rate." He held a chicken skewer up to her mouth. "Your brain." He turned it on himself. "My charm."

She swatted his hand away.

He ate it. "If we need them, we'll have a hundred more ideas."

He tossed the stick aside and leaned in. "But this one's going to work. One day kids are going to ask their grandparents how people ever watched ads for free."

"Yeah?" Maya bent her neck back to meet his eyes.

He nodded. Slowly. "But." He brought his lips down to hers. "If the world isn't ready for it yet? I don't care. I already got everything I need."

She pushed up and kissed him again. Then climbed into his lap. Her legs wrapped around his waist.

He stood, lifting her with him, and headed towards the hallway.

"Wait." She hung from the side. Reached for the framed photo on the kitchen counter. "This one should go in the bedroom."

He grabbed the drill on his way past. Squeezed the trigger until it whirred. "Let's go."

Maya threw her head back and laughed. "When I tell you, you're my dream man."

He carried her the whole way to their bedroom.

The door swung shut behind them.