You are on MIchael Saylors private yacht for the halvening , and he asks for you specifically to make your way to the captains deck , where you find him alone in a white captains uniform , his back turned to you , a glorious orange sunset fills the captains quarters.

As you walk towards him , you realise that he has been crying , nursing a glass of champagne , the orange sunset is reflected in a single trear that has rolled down as far as his grey whiskers.

"Michael . . . " you begin , in a low empathetic voice , but he cuts you off , his eyes fixed upon the setting sun .

" I fucked up " he says .

" Michael , I don't underst. . . "

" I made it all up , I don't own any Bitcoin , I just wanted to sound cool "

He knocks back the champagne , and immediately fills another .