Wednesday afternoon and the shop is actually busy. Six custors browsing. Three at the register. For the first ti since I opened, I have that satisfying feeling of running a real business instead of playing at one.
The remaining Iron Fist comics are down to twelve. I've started ordering Walking Dead back issues from other stores and reselling them at markup—people are desperate to get the series now. And I've got steady Wednesdays with Sheldon's group, plus ga nights becoming a regular thing.
Life is looking up.
Which is why I make the biggest financial decision of my second life while eating a sandwich behind the register.
"Hey Stuart." Leonard walks in with Howard, both carrying Caltech ID badges. Must be lunch break. "Got the new Spider-Man?"
"Yeah, just ca in this morning." I grab two copies from the new release stack. "You guys want anything else?"
"Actually, yeah." Howard leans on the counter. "What's your opinion on investing? Like, stocks and stuff?"
I pause mid-bite. "Why?"
"Raj inherited so money from his grandmother. He's asking everyone for advice. We told him to talk to a financial advisor but he wants to hear from normal people too."
Normal people. Right.
"I've been thinking about investnts, actually." The words co out before I can stop them. "I'm putting money into sothing called Bitcoin."
Leonard blinks. "Bitcoin? What's that?"
"Internet money." I set down my sandwich. "It's this digital currency thing. You can buy it online. Like, five cents per coin right now."
Howard's face is already twisting into a grin. "Wait. Wait. You're buying internet money?"
"It's called cryptocurrency. It's—"
"Dude. Internet money?" Howard starts laughing. "What's next, are you gonna invest in Monopoly dollars?"
"The concept has theoretical rit," Sheldon says, appearing from the back issue section. I didn't even hear him co in. "Digital currency eliminates physical production costs and enables frictionless transactions. However, without governntal backing or intrinsic value, it's essentially digital tulip bulbs."
"Tulip bulbs?" I know what he's referencing, but I ask anyway.
"The Dutch tulip mania of 1637. Speculative bubble driven by irrational belief in unlimited price increases. Eventually collapsed, causing financial ruin for many investors." Sheldon looks at with sothing almost like concern. "Stuart, I respect your business acun regarding comic inventory, but this seems financially inadvisable."
"How much did you spend on this internet money?" Leonard asks.
"Five hundred so far."
Howard literally doubles over laughing. "Five hundred dollars! On digital coins that cost five cents!"
"That's ten thousand coins," I say defensively. "And I'm planning to buy more."
"Stuart, I'm saying this as a friend." Leonard's trying not to smile. "That sounds like a scam."
"It's not a scam. It's just new. Revolutionary paynt system. Decentralized currency. No banks involved."
"No banks involved is usually a red flag, not a selling point," Howard manages between laughs.
Sheldon has pulled out his phone and is typing rapidly. "Bitcoin. Yes, I found it. Created by soone nad Satoshi Nakamoto—likely a pseudonym, as no credible information about this person exists. The white paper was published online. Anyone could have written this."
"I think it's gonna be big." The words sound weak even to .
Howard wipes his eyes. "Okay, okay. I got an idea. We need to start 'Stuart's Imaginary Money Investnt Club.' Everyone brings their fake investnts. I call dibs on Klingon Koin."
"Spock Bucks," Leonard adds, grinning. "I'm investing heavily in Spock Bucks."
"Dungeon Master Diamonds," Howard continues. "The currency of the future."
Even Sheldon joins in. "I would invest in antimatter, but it's too unstable. Unlike Stuart's internet money, which is rely nonexistent."
They're all laughing. Good-natured teasing, not an, but they're definitely making fun of .
And the thing is—I don't mind. Because in a few years, I'm going to be right. And they're going to feel really stupid about this conversation.
"Laugh now," I say, ringing up their comics. "But I'm telling you, this is going sowhere."
"Yeah. Into the void." Howard accepts his bag. "Along with your five hundred bucks."
After they leave—still making jokes about "Stuart's imaginary money empire"—I pull up my laptop and check the Bitcoin exchange rate.
$0.05 per coin.
I've been having tingles about this for weeks now. Stronger than the comic hunches. More persistent. Every ti I think about Bitcoin, I get flashes of numbers that make my hands shake. Price charts going vertical. News headlines. Sothing called a "bubble" that still ends with the price in five figures.
$60,000 . I saw it. I know I saw it.
I transfer another $1,000 from my savings account. Buy 20,000 more coins.
My total position: 30,000 Bitcoin. Cost basis: $1,500.
If I'm wrong, I just blew Stuart's ergency fund on digital nothing. If I'm right...
I don't let myself finish that thought. Instead, I open Excel and create a spreadsheet.
Stuart's Investnt Tracking
Purchase Date | Amount Spent | Coins Acquired | Price Per Coin
The columns fill in easily. I add projections below, dates and prices that co from those flashes of impossible knowledge:
2011: $1.00 2013: $1,000 2017: $20,000 2021: $64,000
My hands are shaking by the ti I finish. Not from fear—from the absolute certainty that these numbers are real. That I'm sitting on a fortune that nobody else can see yet.
How do I know this?
The question still doesn't have an answer. The void gave sothing. Changed sothing. These tingles, these flashes—they're not mories of Stuart's life. They're not my old life bleeding through. They're sothing else entirely.
Knowledge of things that haven't happened yet.
I save the spreadsheet with a password and close my laptop. The shop is empty now. Just and the comics and the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.
I should be terrified. I should be questioning my sanity. But instead I'm calculating compound returns and thinking about how to diversify without drawing attention.
Because if Bitcoin is right—and it is, I know it is—then what else am I right about?
The Walking Dead beca a hit. I knew that.
Iron Fist #19 beca collectible. I knew that too.
Apple is going to release sothing revolutionary. That knowledge sits in my brain like a fact, solid and immovable.
The 2008 financial crisis is coming. I can feel it on the edges of these tingles, sothing dark and devastating.
I can see the future.
Not all of it. Not clearly. Just fragnts. Echoes of events that matter. Financial shifts. Cultural monts. Things that make waves.
And I'm the only one who knows.
The bell chis. A custor walks in—older guy, looking for vintage Spider-Man. I help him find what he wants, make the sale, watch him leave happy.
Normal business. Normal life.
Except nothing about this is normal.
I think about Sheldon calling Bitcoin "digital tulip bulbs." Leonard's concerned friend-voice. Howard's genuine worry disguised as jokes.
They're worried about . They think I'm making a mistake. And I can't explain why I'm not without sounding insane.
"Hey guys, I died and woke up in soone else's body with supernatural knowledge of the future. These internet coins are definitely going to make rich."
Yeah. That'll go over well.
So I let them think I'm being reckless. Let them joke about "Stuart's Imaginary Money Investnt Club." Let them believe I'm just another small business owner making questionable financial decisions.
anwhile, I'll quietly buy more Bitcoin. Track the prices. Wait for the world to catch up to what I already know.
And when Leonard asks for investnt advice in 2013, when Howard starts researching cryptocurrency exchanges in 2017, when Sheldon develops a sudden interest in blockchain technology—
I'll rember this afternoon. Their laughter. Their concern.
And I'll smile and say nothing.
That night, I'm lying in bed—Stuart's bed, in Stuart's apartnt, in Stuart's life—staring at the ceiling and thinking about secrets.
I have a good life building here. Friends. Business. A future that's starting to look bright.
But it's all constructed on a foundation of lies. Every conversation is careful. Every explanation is edited. I'm constantly monitoring what I say, what I know, making sure nothing slips that would reveal what I really am.
What am I?
Not Stuart Bloom. He died before I got here, left just enough of himself behind for to wear his life like a costu.
Not my old self either. That person died choking on steak. What's left are just mories of a boring life I can barely rember caring about.
I'm sothing new. Sothing in-between. A consciousness that survived death and landed here with powers I don't understand and knowledge I shouldn't have.
And absolutely no one can ever know.
The isolation of it hits sotis. Like right now, in the dark, with my laptop still humming on the desk and a spreadsheet full of impossible predictions saved under three layers of password protection.
I have friends who invited to ga night. Who worry about my financial decisions. Who show up every Wednesday to buy comics and argue about superheroes.
But they don't know . Can't know . Because knowing ans knowing that reality is malleable, that the future can be seen, that death isn't always the end.
And I'm not sure anyone could handle that truth.
I close my eyes and try to sleep. Tomorrow is Thursday. Another day of running the shop. Another day of pretending to be normal. Another day of hiding what I really am behind Stuart Bloom's face and letting everyone believe the lie.
Let them laugh about Bitcoin. Let them think I'm eccentric or foolish or lucky.
As long as they never suspect the truth.
The tingles fade into background noise as I drift off, and my last conscious thought is about Friday night. Ga night. Thai food and Halo and friends who don't know they're befriending sothing that shouldn't exist.
And maybe that's okay.
Maybe being known is overrated.
Maybe being liked is enough.
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