Chapter 2, The Teacher:

# Unedited version:

For two years after Haywin's disappearance, Hank still claimed the oak tree as his territory. He'd grown more careful about his reading, but not careful enough that day when Mr. Nakamoto's shadow fell across his page.

"You know those books are forbidden," Mr. Nakamoto said, making Hank's heart freeze. He was reading Murray Rothbard's "Man, Economy, and State." A book on economics and currency would have gotten him in serious trouble with the jurisdictional guards. Before he could hide the volume, the teacher added with a gentle smile, "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

Something in his tone reminded Hank of Haywin—that same recognition of a kindred spirit. Soon they were deep in conversation about books, history, science, economics, and governments. Words flowed easily, as they hadn't since those long-ago lunches with dancing braids and circuit diagrams.

"How did you come across these books?" Mr. Nakamoto asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

"I find some in the ruins on the east side of town," Hank explained. "And I trade for others with the rebels."

Mr. Nakamoto's eyebrows rose. "Both sound dangerous."

Hank shrugged. "Not really. I've become friends with Alexander, one of the rebels' lieutenants." He paused, unsure if he should tell Mr. Nakamoto more about the rebels. But then Hank added, "When you grow up without supervision, you learn to observe. Like how this jurisdiction actually runs on three different currencies."

Something flickered in Mr. Nakamoto's eyes—surprise, but also recognition. He glanced at his watch reluctantly. "Visit me in my physics class tomorrow," he said. "I'd like to hear more about your... observations."

As the teacher walked away, Hank felt that same shift he'd experienced years ago when Haywin first sat at his table. Someone had seen past his carefully constructed invisibility again, recognizing not just his presence, but his potential.

Three Currencies

The next day, instead of retreating to his oak tree, Hank found himself hovering outside Mr. Nakamoto's classroom door. When the teacher spotted him, he waved him in with a welcoming smile. "Come on in. You can eat your lunch here."

Hank hurried inside, nervous energy mixing with excitement.

"I really enjoyed our conversation yesterday," Mr. Nakamoto said, pulling up a chair. "Can you explain your thesis on the economy in our city?"

The formal wording caught Hank off guard. More importantly, Alexander might not appreciate him sharing the rebels' economic system. But something about Mr. Nakamoto inspired trust, and before Hank could stop himself, the words tumbled out.

"You see, Mr. Nakamoto, there are three separate economic systems running simultaneously." He set his lunch aside, warming to the topic. "First, there's the central exchange—that's how you get paid, like all authorized charters and permitted workers. It goes straight to your biometric bracelet."

Hank glanced at Mr. Nakamoto's wrist, noting the standard-issue device. "You can pay for goods directly with your bracelet or go to a bank and draw out digital tokens." Hank reached in his pocket and pulled out three tokens, showing them to Mr. Nakamoto. "My stepdad gives these to me for allowance."

"The digital tokens are also used for unlicensed workers. Tradesmen and unskilled laborers get paid with them," Hank continued. "The problem with the Jurisdiction's tokens is they expire. The central issuers designed them with a shelf life—either use them or lose them." Hank smirked because, for some reason, Alexander traded him for expired tokens.

"If that wasn't bad enough, they debase the currency on your bracelet by adding more supply to the system."

His voice grew more confident as he continued. "Finally, there's the rebels' system. They use old coins they find in the ruins. They're naturally scarce, and they have agreed-upon values, making them a good currency." Hank wondered if he should tell Mr. Nakamoto any more. He was too eager to resist, drawn in by Mr. Nakamoto's deep interest in the subject.

"The rebels' money system is ironic," Hank explained. "I figured out by watching their transactions that a penny is the most valuable, worth ten times the other denominations like silver dollars, half dollars, quarters, dimes, and nickels. This works because it throws the jurisdictional guards off. If they catch you with a few pennies, it's no big deal. But actually, one penny equals ten silver dollars."

Mr. Nakamoto leaned forward, genuinely fascinated. "And you figured all this out just by watching people transact?"

Hank smiled, a touch of pride mixing with shyness. "I see a lot from under my oak tree." His voice trailed off as he added, "You're the first person who's noticed me there since..." He left the sentence unfinished, memories of Haywin flickering at the edges of his thoughts.

Encouraged by Mr. Nakamoto's interest, Hank leaned forward, his natural reserve giving way to enthusiasm. "There's more to the system than meets the eye," he continued. "The tokens and biometrics? They only work for approved vendors. But if you want something the rebels have—like protection while scavenging in the east ruins, or forbidden books, or really anything the government forbids—you need their coins."

"Not anyone can trade their tokens for coins though. Unless you have a connection with a rebel lieutenant or you have a friend that knows a lieutenant, you can't get coins." Hank smiled and said, "I trade tokens directly with Alexander."

"The only other way to trade is to barter with each other. The bartering system brings in the problem of 'double coincidence of wants,'" Hank explained. He described how he'd learned to navigate between these worlds. "Sometimes I just traded lookout service for their coins. Sometimes I traded tokens straight up with Alexander, and Alexander even gives me value for expired tokens." Hank shrugged his shoulders. "And when they need supplies from approved vendors, I buy it with my tokens and trade for books and stuff. It's simple."

Mr. Nakamoto watched him with growing appreciation. "You have a brilliant mind, Hank. It's a true gift." He smiled warmly. "Most people waste their days in idle gossip, but the quiet thinkers—they're the ones who untangle the world around them."

"Would you have lunch with me tomorrow?" Mr. Nakamoto asked. "I'd enjoy hearing more of your observations." Mr. Nakamoto noted to himself how odd it was that the rebels wanted expired tokens—ones that were supposedly worthless.

That invitation began eighteen months of daily conversations. Hank found himself drawn into Mr. Nakamoto's world of complex equations and curious gadgets. Sometimes, watching his teacher fiddle with strange devices, Hank's heart hung heavy. Some days as he watched him work, it reminded Hank of Haywin—that same intense focus, that same joy in understanding how things worked.

Hank wondered how this brilliant physicist came to teach at his school. He would always have advanced calculations and diagrams written all over his chalkboard. Hank wondered if Mr. Nakamoto slept in his classroom—the papers would be taped together from floor to ceiling and across walls.

Their lunches became a comfortable routine. While other students filled the cafeteria with noise, Hank and Mr. Nakamoto would discuss everything from economic theory to quantum mechanics. The classroom became a new kind of sanctuary, different from his oak tree but just as precious.

What Hank couldn't know then was that these conversations were more than just lessons—they were preparation. Mr. Nakamoto, like Haywin before him, was helping to shape a mind that would one day reshape the world.