Deep$ETH
At 3 AM, the candlestick chart on my screen looked like the ECG of a dying patient. Bitcoin plummeted another 15%, and the community wailed; some shared screenshots of their liquidations with captions like "Goodbye, this world."
Then I received that message.
"Want to see the truth?" A stranger account sent a coordinate, with a note: "Don't bring your phone, don't tell anyone."
Curiosity kills the cat, but it can revive the numb leeks. I drove to the outskirts, where an abandoned warehouse only had an old CRT TV flickering with snowflakes.
The screen suddenly became clear, revealing a line of text: "Welcome to the universe's largest casino."
The scene switched, revealing a suffocating sight: our familiar crypto trading market was actually just a holographic projection of a giant casino. Those glamorous founders, exchange tycoons, and whale investors were merely front-stage actors. The real big players were alien civilizations light-years away.
They feed on human emotions.
"Volatility is the appetizer, FOMO is the main course, and liquidation despair is the top dessert." The voice on the TV explained emotionlessly, "You think you're trading, but in fact, you're providing us with emotional fuel."
I remember the palpitations and frenzy during market fluctuations; it turns out that it was not just adrenaline, but the harvested spiritual energy.
Even more astonishing, this system has a loophole.
"Emotional backlash." The TV screen flickered, "What if what they tasted was false emotion?"
So we began a secret operation—a group of leeks who saw through the truth.
The next time Bitcoin surges, the media shouts "The bull market returns," while we crazily refresh our social media, but all we express is performed joy. When the market crashes, we pretend to panic, but inside we are as calm as water.
The alien casino began experiencing "food poisoning." They were consuming false emotions, and the system became chaotic. The candlestick charts began to draw Van Gogh's starry night, trading volumes showed the digits of pi, and at one moment, the Bitcoin price precisely stopped at $31415.92.
The big players finally couldn't sit still.
That morning, every crypto person's device received a message: "Let's negotiate."
Now we sit at the negotiation table. On the human side are retail investors, developers, and occasionally awake whales; on the other side are the holographic projections of alien big players.
They proposed an agreement: to no longer feed on human emotions, but to collaborate on developing new types of energy—"sincere fluctuation energy," collecting only real and voluntary emotional output.
The crypto world is still the same crypto world, but there is no more manipulation, no more behind-the-scenes operations. The wild fluctuations still exist, but everyone knows clearly what they are participating in.
Finally, I asked that alien representative: "Why choose to expose yourself?"
The holographic projection flickered: "Because you have discovered the ultimate truth of the crypto world—"
"True decentralization begins with acknowledging that you are controlled by centralization."
As I walked out of the warehouse, the morning sun was just right. I opened my phone, and the Bitcoin price was still fluctuating, but I knew that some things had changed forever.
In this universe's largest casino, the leeks finally learned the big players' way of thinking but chose to use this knowledge to redefine the rules.
But how do you, sitting in front of the screen, determine that this article you see is not another form of emotional nourishment?
Unless you have already begun to doubt everything.