Chapter 07: My Muse

12 minutes later

Sean stood outside the cafe. Catching his breath. The humidity hit him. Sweat down his back.

He walked past the sidewalk tables and looked through the window.

Maya. Table by the wall. She wasn't alone.

He hadn't thought past getting to her.

He didn't go in.

The door swung open. Leyla walked out, bag over her shoulder.

She stopped. "Shayan?"

"Hey." Sean stepped back. "Leyla."

She looked down at his flip-flops. "Just go for a run?"

"About to grab some coffee."

She punched his arm. "You rattled Kamran last week."

Sean laughed. "He hates Bitcoin."

"Wait." A slow grin. "Do you know Maya?"

He pretended to not hear her.

"Oh my god." Leyla grabbed his arm. "Get in there. She'll be so excited."

"Leyla—"

But she was already opening the door.

---

Ms. Patrice was mid-story when Leyla burst in, dragging someone behind her. "Ladies. I found another Bitcoiner!"

Ms. Patrice lit up. "Hayy! And he's cute!"

Maya had her phone in both hands. She looked up. Her hands stopped.

Sean.

She looked down.

Diego came around the counter. Hand out. "Sean! We never see you in here this late."

Sean didn't move. He left Diego hanging. Didn't mean to. He was staring at Maya.

Diego followed his gaze.

Leyla looked between them. "Do you two know each other?"

Sean didn't answer.

Maya swallowed. Turned to Leyla. "Do you?"

"Yeah. From the Iranian Relief charity," Leyla said softly.

Sean turned to Ms. Patrice. Extended his hand. "Sean."

Ms. Patrice took it. Held it. Looked down at his shirt. Looked down at hers.

Same "ARE YOU FLIRTING WITH BITCOIN?" on their chest.

She slapped the table. "That's my podcast!"

Sean nodded. "Yeah, and they're locals too."

"Mmhmm. Maya put me on it." Ms. Patrice turned in her chair. "MAYA."

Maya hadn't moved.

"This man is FAMILY." Ms. Patrice pointed at Sean, then at Maya. Then threw her hands up. "I don't make the rules."

Diego was already back behind the counter. Watching.

Maya's voice came out quieter than she wanted. "How are you here?"

"Your photo." Sean held up his phone. "I saw the mug." He reached across the table and picked up Ms. Patrice's mug with the same misprint.

Maya blinked. "I just posted that."

"And I ran."

The café was silent.

Maya stood. Caught herself on the chair back. Anchored herself.

Sean waited.

"You ran?" Maya tried to sound unimpressed. "Why didn't you just send a message?"

"What do you mean?" Sean's jaw tightened. "I have."

Maya shook her head. "I never got anything from you. I checked."

He turned the phone toward her.

She looked at his phone. Then at him.

His eyes were locked on her.

Maya hesitated.

He placed the phone in her hands.

She inhaled. Let her eyes leave his. Exhaled.

There were two DMs.

Two weeks apart.

Just got to the airport. I can't stop thinking about you.

And a link. To his post. Sent that morning.

Maya stared at the screen.

Sean watched her read them. His chest was pounding.

She closed her eyes and tried to take another deep breath.

She could smell his skin. Her breath slowed.

Her feet were moving. She opened her eyes.

His hand hovered near her back. Not touching. Guiding. Toward the door.

Leyla stood. "Wait—"

They were already outside.

---

They sat at one of the cafe's outside tables. Two chairs facing each other.

Maya pulled hers back an inch before sitting.

Sean sat. Didn't adjust anything. Just landed.

The door opened behind them. Diego set down two waters. Looked at Sean. "You guys seemed thirsty."

Sean picked up one and handed it to Maya. Turned back. "Thank you."

Diego was already back inside.

Maya wrapped both hands around the glass. Didn't drink.

Sean quickly finished his. Maya pushed her glass over to him.

Sean picked it up. Laughed.

The door again. Leyla.

She dropped Maya's bag on the table. Looked at Maya. A question without words.

Maya nodded once.

Leyla's eyes went to Sean's flip-flops. One more time. The corner of her mouth moved. She turned to Sean.

"Nice seeing you, Shayan." Leyla grinned. She turned to Maya. "Text me."

Now Leyla was gone.

A loud fire engine rolled through the intersection. They both pretended to watch it.

"I'm sorry this is my fault. Nostr DMs." Maya's voice came out too fast. "They're not reliable yet. Different clients use different relay—"

"Maya."

"It's...it's like sending a letter to a post office. But the person you're sending it to doesn't know that post office exists. I should've just given you my number."

"Maya."

She covered her mouth.

He was looking at her. Trying to meet her eyes.

She was avoiding them.

"It's okay." Sean took a deep breath. He leaned in closer. "It sucked. But it's okay."

Maya shook her head. "I oversold Nostr."

Sean laughed. Very loudly. "Yes. I'm here to complain about the onboarding process at the Nostr Booth." He rolled his eyes.

Maya stopped resisting it and slowly grinned from cheek to cheek.

"Look, I'm not sure what to make of any of this." Sean cleared his throat. "Twenty minutes ago I was on my couch checking your profile. And now you're right in front of me."

Maya looked down. His flip-flops. Rubber. Worn on one side.

She finally looked up.

Sean leaned back in his chair.

"Hi."

"Hi."

The word barely made it out.

Traffic. A dog barking somewhere. The hum of a city that didn't care what was happening at this table.

Maya pushed her chair back. Stood.

"Want to walk?"

Sean stood.

"Yeah."

---

They walked.

Neither spoke for the first block. Maya kept her arms crossed. Sean had his hands in his pockets.

Sean cleared his throat. Didn't say anything.

Maya glanced at him. Looked away.

A car honked. They both flinched. Then both almost laughed but didn't.

Half a block more.

She uncrossed her arms.

Their pace was slow. Aimless. Sean angled them left at the corner without explaining why. Maya followed without asking.

"Where are we going?"

"Farmers market." He said it like he'd thought about it. Then: "If that's—"

"Yeah." Maya smiled. Stared at the pavement. "That works."

One corner later they were looking at the market. A healthy crowd. Rows of lavender in bunches. Honey in jars catching the sun. Someone playing guitar for happy toddlers.

They were walking close. Not touching. Except their arms. Which kept brushing.

They passed the sunflowers. Past tables of honey and jam. Past a woman apologizing for selling out of her sourdough.

A pigeon launched off a ledge above them. Too close. Wings loud. Maya grabbed his arm without thinking.

The pigeon was gone in a second.

Her hand stayed for three more.

She let go. Kept walking. He grinned the whole time.    Sean stopped at a food vendor. Ordered without asking. Falafel wrap. Baklava. Two cold brews. Somehow exactly what Maya wanted.

They walked and ate. And ate some more.

Maya slowed near a corner rowhouse. The brick on the bottom was old. Red. Weathered. The top half was painted wood. Different century entirely.

She couldn't help herself.

"See that?" She pointed. "Brick on the bottom. Completely different on top."

Sean looked.

"Once you start looking, you see it all over this neighborhood. They just paint over it. Build on top of it. But the original structure is still there."

Sean glanced down the street. Two more. Same pattern.

"Every city in America is built on top of another city," Maya said. "You're just not supposed to look at the brick underneath the paint."

She looked at Sean.

He was actually looking at the brick.

"You know why DC is here?" she said. "Like, why this specific spot?"

Sean pressed his lips together. Shook his head.

"The Potomac and the Anacostia. Two rivers." Maya was drawing them with her hands. "That made this the most strategic point on the East Coast."

Sean slowed his pace. He turned his body to face her. "Strategic for who?"

"The Nacotchtank. They lived here for thousands of years. This was already a trading hub. The rivers weren't discovered. They were already in use."

Sean was nodding again and again. "That doesn't surprise me at all."

"No?" Maya almost stopped walking. "You knew?"

"No." Sean smiled. "But nothing about this country's origin story surprises me. Governments lie?"

"Well sorry it surprised me!" Maya teased.

She started walking faster now. He matched her pace.

They turned onto a quieter street. Residential.

Maya thanked him for the AI context tip.

Sean thanked her for the ad fraud stats.

The next block had trees making a canopy overhead. The light came through in pieces.

Maya turned a corner and stopped.

"This is me."

Sean looked up at the building. Then he looked down the street.

Started laughing.

"What?"

He pointed. "I'm right there."

"Where?"

"Three blocks. The gray building with the fire escape."

"You're kidding."

"I walk past this corner every morning."

Maya stared at him. Then at his building. Then back at him. "We've been neighbors this whole time."

"This whole time."

They were standing too close now. She stepped back.

"You want to come up?" Her voice was lower than she meant it to be. "I have something to show you."

Sean's head tilted. Didn't answer immediately. He looked at the door, then back at her.

"Unless you have somewhere to be."

"No." He cleared his throat. "Lead the way."

Maya turned toward the door. Felt him right behind her. Close enough that if she stopped, he'd collide into her.

She walked faster.

---

Two minutes later

Outside her apartment door, Maya hesitated. "My place is a mess. My roommate's gone this weekend and she's usually the one who cleans."

"In that case I'll just leave." Sean turned to leave.

"You think you're funny?" She pulled him back. He turned and their eyelashes almost touched.

Maya took a step back.

Sean stayed still. Smiled.

She turned to unlock the door. Pushed it open.

He held it open for her.

Looking down, she walked inside.

He followed close behind.

"Your apartment. Damn, Maya." Sean put his cold brew down on her counter.

"This ol' place?" she grinned.

"Two bath?"

She nodded.

"These windows. The natural light in here." He touched the spine of a book. Straightened a plant pot that didn't need it.

He stopped at a frame on the shelf. A collage. Maya and another woman at what looked like a graduation. A beach. One photo from Halloween. Maya in blue lipstick, wings, a short tutu, with a tooth on a chain around her neck. A name tag that said "Pairing Mode." A Bluetooth fairy.

He really liked that last photo.

"Nice pictures. Roommate?"

"Salma." Maya smiled. "Life partner, really."

Then he turned. Next to the dining table. Almost taking up the entire wall. Maya's whiteboard. Covered in protocol sketches. Diagrams. Some erased and rewritten.

"Wow. How big is this thing?"

"Eight by six."

He was shaking his head. "And Salma's okay with this?"

"My code is my art." Maya leaned back. Arms crossed. Smiling. "She lets me display it."

Sean stepped closer. "You work like this? Map everything out?"

"It's how I think. I can't build something I can't see."

His eyes moved across the board. Then stopped on the far side. The part that wasn't code.

"What's this?"

 Maya looked at where he was pointing. A map of the northeast coast, pinned with notes. Names. Dates. A timeline with gaps. "1880" circled twice.

"Research."

"For the protocol?"

"For me." Maya smiled.

He leaned in. Read something off the board. "Declared extinct." He looked at her. "Extinct?"

"While people were still alive. The state legislature just decided they didn't exist anymore."

"Governments are good at that," he said with a raised eyebrow.

His eyes moved down the board. Arrows connecting dates. "Relocated." "Reclassified."

"Just like Gaza." She was quiet for a moment. "Salma's Palestinian."

Sean nodded. He was quiet for longer than she expected.

"Things are getting really bad." His voice was different. "I've been trying to shut out the news. I know it's about to escalate to Iran."

Maya looked at him.

"Sorry. I don't usually—"

Her face fell. "I can't even imagine how people like Salma and you function during the day."

Sean sighed. "A lot of compartmentalizing."

He stood up. Walked to her kitchen. Opened a cabinet. Stacks of takeout containers. Opened another. More takeout containers.

Maya called out to him. "We cook sometimes."

"Sure you do." He found the glasses on the third try.

"Please," Maya smirked. "Make yourself at home."

Sean filled the glasses with water. Walked back and handed her one. "What about you? Where is your family from?"

"Cape Verdean." She smiled. "Which...that's a whole thing."

"I'm listening."

"We know my family is from Cape Verde. My grandmother came to Providence from there. But how the migration happened, who was there before the Portuguese...it's all a blur. I think on purpose."

"Sorry, I have no idea where Cape Verde is," Sean admitted.

"Islands off West Africa. Most people don't."

"So they speak Portuguese? Do you speak it?"

"No. None of my family does." She looked at him. "Do you speak Farsi?"

"I do. I came here when I was four."

"Wow. You're an immigrant? You're so..."

"American?" Sean laughed.

"Well... yeah," Maya said.

"Are you trying to bait me into mansplaining code switching to you?" Sean grinned.

"I know, I know." Maya laughed. "That's just cool. You're lucky you're still connected to your culture." Something in her face shifted. Then it was gone.

"Yeah. It's not easy. I'm sure it felt impossible for your grandmother to protect hers." He was quiet for a second. "Let's see how much Farsi my grandkids will know."

Maya smiled.

"So how long have you been researching all this?" Sean asked, turning back to the board.

"I found this guy on YouTube. Reading these old books on camera. Books out of circulation. There's seven hundred videos."

"Seven hundred?"

"I want to watch all of them."

Sean laughed. "Of course you do."

"The real history is in the footnotes. It's all there. Who was reclassified. When. Why," Maya said. "I've been going down this rabbit hole for years. Just keeps going."

Sean looked at her. Then around the apartment. Her photos. Her plants. Her whiteboard. Her research. Her.

"I still can't believe you're just three blocks from me. And that I saw your photo! Right when you posted it."

Maya was quiet for a moment. "Well...that wasn't completely a coincidence."

He tilted his head.

"I posted that photo on purpose."

Sean didn't move.

"It was a long shot. The mug. I hoped you'd eventually see it. Piece it together."

Sean's face couldn't hide his confusion. "Wait. Why did you think I'd know what it was?"

"Well. I saw you on a dating app." She pulled at a thread on the cushion. "You were 'less than a mile away.'"

Sean's face went blank. "I am not on a dating app."

"Yes you are."

"I'm really—" He stopped. His eyes closed. "Nima."

He pulled out his phone. Found the app. Deactivated it. Put the phone down.

"Fucking Nima." He looked at her. "You knew I was here?"

Maya picked at the edge of the cushion. "I could assume..." She looked at the ceiling. "You were somewhere. In the DMV."

Sean just watched her. He couldn't stop smiling.

"I wasn't going to do anything with the information. But then you had to go and post that note."

Sean shook his head. Still smiling.

Silence.

"You don't believe me?"

Sean tilted his head and smirked. "Do you need me to?"

Maya tucked her legs under her. Looked at him.

"Sit. Please."

---

Sean sat down on the other end of the couch. Turned to face her.

Maya leaned forward. "Do you know what dark patterns are?"

"Like what makes us addicted to our phones?"

"Right."

"Like streaks." Sean shook his head. "I hate when they pop up."

"Streaks?" she looked confused.

"They basically gamify messaging with a friend. Message every day to keep the streak going."

Maya laughed. "That's so fucking dumb."

"Oh, it is." Sean leaned forward. "It's a hostage situation."

"Yeah?"

"My little cousin is obsessed with her streaks. Yelled at me when I broke one. First thing she does every day is message all her friends to keep it going."

"That's sad." Maya exhaled. "But it's by design right? Something is always competing for your attention. Even when you're already in the app trying to use it."

Sean thought about it.

Maya started listing them. "Comments. Counts. Share buttons. Profile links. Notification icons. All on top of what you're looking at. The entire time."

"Yeah. I hate when the little profile photo blocks something on the video."

"They want to keep your eyes moving. Fingers tapping. Comparing. Seeing that someone's video got two million likes and yours got forty."

Sean shook his head. "I don't believe any of those numbers. Impressions on videos. Isn't it like a one second watch counts as a view?"

Maya nodded. "I think you're right."

"Yup." He sat up. "I don't need to tell you. I think they're just making up numbers. You know TikTok doesn't even show you who liked something. They just show a number."

"And that's not a bug." Maya added. "They control what you see, what you know, what you think is working. You're making decisions based on numbers they can easily make up."

"At least manipulated if not made up." Sean was quiet for a second. "And creators need those numbers."

"What do you mean?"

"That's how they get deals. Brand deals, sponsorships. It's all based on your numbers. Your views, your followers, your engagement rate. That's their resume."

"A resume built on numbers the platform controls."

"And they control whether anyone even sees your posts." Sean leaned forward. "Sometimes it's a shadow ban. But most of the time I think it's just... they changed the algorithm. What used to work for a creator suddenly doesn't. And nobody tells you why."

"So they wake up one day and their reach is gone."

"And you don't know if you did something wrong or if they just updated something." Sean shook his head. "Content creators are really the unpaid labor of social media."

Maya looked at him. Tilted her head.

"They get tricked into pushing out content multiple times a day. Feeding an algorithm for the false promise of maybe going viral. And the apps get an unlimited stream of content. For free. That feeds their endless scroll."

"So it's the creators who are building the product." She was nodding.

"And getting nothing for it." Sean stood up. Started pacing. "And it doesn't even make for good content. You have people recreating the same clickbait over and over hoping maybe their version strikes gold."

"Because that's what the algorithm rewards."

"It's killed creativity." Sean kept shaking his head. "Feeding the algorithm kills creativity. Everyone likes it because there's just so much to scroll through. But most of it isn't worth watching."

He stopped. Turned to her. "Which is why people scroll. Endlessly. Hungry for another dopamine hit."

Maya smiled. "Exactly. Dark patterns."

Sean took a deep breath. "I could go on."

"Go on."

"The in-app browser."

Maya raised an eyebrow.

"When you click an ad...like you actually want to buy something. You tapped the ad. It worked. But it doesn't open your browser. It opens their little in-app browser. And it glitches. Every time. So you try again, maybe twice, and then you just..." He swiped his thumb. "Go back to scrolling."

"So the ad worked. But the app killed the sale?"

"Because they'd rather keep me in the app than let me leave to buy something. The advertiser paid for that click. And the app sabotaged it."

Maya sat back. "I didn't realize that happens. I'm not on TikTok."

"You're not? This happens on most of the apps, I think."

"I've never used it. I researched it after your post." She paused. Laughed. "Honestly? I never click on ads either."

Sean looked at her. "You never click ads. But you're building an ad protocol?"

"Because I hate ads."

Sean laughed. "I don't hate ads."

Maya pulled her knees closer.

"I love finding new things. Inventions. Products. Podcasts. I just hate seeing the same ad from a weapons manufacturer just 'cause my app knows I'm in DC." He shook his head. "No matter how many times I hit 'not interested.'"

"I didn't realize you were such a normie." She teased.

"I still mingle with the masses."

Maya laughed. "Even on Nostr, the apps people use have the same dark patterns. Copied straight over. Infinite scroll, notification dots, ten things on the screen at once. Nobody is questioning them."

"Yeah, that's a good point."

"Because we all used Twitter until we came to Nostr. It's all most of us know. And that's not anyone's fault."

"Damn." Sean shook his head. "Even the devs are hostages."

"Yeah. But I think freedom happens in layers. You free yourself from one thing and there's another layer underneath that hits you."

"What do you mean?"

"You left the algorithm. You're on Nostr. You own your identity, your posts, your followers. That's one layer."

Sean was nodding.

"But you're still opening an app that decides what's on your screen. What pulls your eye. What interrupts you."

Sean sat back down. Slowly. "I never thought about it like that."

"Because in your world, freedom is about governments. Laws. Surveillance."

"Yeah."

"But your phone, the app on your phone, it decides everything you see, when you see it, how you feel about it. It shapes your perception of the world."

Sean was quiet.

"Identity was the first layer. Attention is the next one. Who gets to decide what reaches you. Not just ads. Everything. And now we can build what they would never want to."

---

The room was quiet. Late afternoon light through the windows.

"That's why I posted that photo."

"Your note on Nostr. Full screen. Vertical. One video at a time." She looked at him. "You weren't describing TikTok. You were explaining where the people are. And what we have to build for them to join us here."

"It was just a post." Sean almost laughed.

"It was the idea I needed."

He stared at her.

"I've been building a protocol for a year. An attention marketplace. But it never had a product." She paused. "Your idea was the product. The app for this idea."

Sean was quiet for a moment. "You're serious."

"A social app. Built on the principles we just talked about."

"Everything that's broken? You want to fix this mess?"

"All of it."

Sean leaned back. "With Nostr's features? Like zaps and owning your own identity?"

"That's ownership. But ownership isn't control."

Sean waited.

"Every app you use still decides what reaches your eyes. Even on Nostr. Ownership didn't fix that." She paused. "A video app. Your idea. With no algorithm gods deciding what you see."

"So what do you see when you open it?"

"The people you chose. That's it."

"But what about the stuff on the screen. People want to engage. The buttons, the counts."

"There's a toggle. Off by default. So nothing obstructs your view. Unless you turn it on."

"So the default is just... the video."

"Exactly, just a display. For your full attention."

"But people love the FYP." Sean shifted forward.

"We'll find a better way for discovery. I'm not worried about that. This is the foundation. The discovery has to follow these principles."

"People need a way to be found online..." Sean said, almost to himself. "By people looking for their content."

Maya got up and lit an incense. Set it on the windowsill. Stayed standing.

"Well... what if people paid other people to watch their advertisements?"

Sean smiled. "There it is."

"And when they watched these ads, they discovered cool shit. Zapped the money they made right back to the people who made it. A comedian. A musician. A podcast. Whatever they want."

"No creator fund."

"No creator fund. No Patreon. No 'link in bio.' You earn sats watching ads, you spend them supporting the people you love. Directly. No one takes a cut."

"What's stopping people from just watching ads all day?"

"You can only be matched with an ad once per block."

"Bitcoin block?"

She nodded. "So on average, one every ten minutes."

"Like TV commercials." Sean smiled to himself. "Except those have gotten worse. Now it's like every five."

"Because they control the clock. But here we can't. Nobody can."

"Cause of the protocol?"

Maya nodded. "Only your price and the blockchain decide when you can get paid next."

Sean's head tilted.

"And every time a block hits, it's a reminder. You've been on for ten minutes. You're on your phone. Not in the real world." She looked at him. "It's like a heartbeat."

"A heartbeat?"

"Everyone on the app feels the same pulse at the same time. Every block." Maya said. "Every other app is designed to make you forget you're online. This one reminds you."

"But blocks come in at different times. What happens when the next block takes 40 minutes to come? Or two happen back to back in a few minutes?"

"That's why it works. You can't game a clock you don't control." Maya sat back down.

Sean rubbed his jaw. "So you want people to leave the app. Why would they come back? To get paid?"

"To discover something they'd probably never find on an algorithm." Maya leaned in.

"What stops someone from running a thousand fake accounts and farming the payments?"

"Strike."

"The Bitcoin app?"

"You need a Strike account to get paid. That means KYC. Real identity. Real person. No kids. No bots."

Sean winced. "KYC? Maxis aren't gonna like that."

"I'm getting judged by a fed?"

Sean laughed. "Fair. But is it really decentralized if you require Strike?"

"The protocol is open. Anyone can build their own version without KYC. I hope someone does." She shrugged. "But to prove the concept, you need real people and real money moving securely."

"So it's a business decision."

"Not a protocol decision."

Sean nodded. Smiled. "Well. I got my Strike wallet ready." He looked at her. "I want to use this app. Right now."

---

Sean picked up the marker.

Maya blinked. He was already drawing.

"Okay. So I follow people. That's my feed. But what if I don't know who to follow yet? I just downloaded the app. I don't know anyone."

"That's the discovery problem."

"It's not a problem. It's an opportunity." He drew boxes on the whiteboard. Labeled them. "Districts."

Maya tilted her head.

"You don't scroll. You stroll." He tapped one of the boxes. "Comedy. Cooking. Fitness. Bitcoin. Whatever. You walk into a district and see what's there. Browse. Like walking down a street and looking in the windows."

"What's a district?" Maya was confused.

"Hashtags." Sean smiled.

Maya's eyes widened.

"And two-hashtags make an intersection." Sean kept going. "Like the corner of the Sports and Fashion district."

"Okay. I like this." Maya was thinking. "But hashtag feeds can get chaotic."

"But you don't see things from people you don't know, right?" Sean said. "But right. Districts aren't enough."

Maya watched him keep sketching. Standing next to it, Sean made her whiteboard look smaller.

"So you leave the district and go visit your friend's neighborhood." He drew a stick figure walking between the boxes. "And inside each are the accounts your friend picked."

Maya leaned back on the couch. He was pacing between the whiteboard and the window. Talking with his hands. Excited.

"So everyone starts with a corner. Like the corner of your block."

"Uh huh."

"You pick only a few accounts. The ones you want to see when you first open your app."

"A few accounts? So it's capped."

"Yeah... yeah. Cause you have your corner. But also a neighborhood. Everyone has both. Your corner, 21 accounts. Your neighborhood, uncapped."

"21 accounts?"

"Like a tribute to Myspace's top 8 friends."

"I never used Myspace."

Sean waved her off.

"The corner is for you. Your neighborhood is your curation."

"And everyone has their own neighborhood?"

"Exactly. So some people will have popular neighborhoods. You pop in, see what's good. Add accounts you see to your own if you want."

"Wait. So it's user curated feeds."

"Yes. You walk around basically a city and decide what you want to see. Either in the district or in different neighborhoods."

"That curation is labor too though..." Maya was thinking to herself.

"Yeah, people will want to have popular neighborhoods. Like instead of running a curated meme account you can just have a neighborhood of the best meme creators. Actually give credit to them instead of just stealing their work."

"Then people running good neighborhoods need to get paid too. If the design relies on their labor."

"But you kept saying no one else gets a cut from the ad payout." Sean stopped drawing. "Does the platform pay instead?"

"No. If you visit someone else's neighborhood and you get matched with an ad while you're there...they get a cut."

Sean raised his eyebrows. "Well that's interesting."

"We can figure out how much. But this makes running a good neighborhood a job itself."

Sean looked at the whiteboard. At her protocol sketches on one side, his neighborhoods on the other. Stepped back. "It's wild how well this all fits together."

"Glad you're catching up. I've been here since Thursday morning."

Sean turned to her and smiled. Then looked back at the board. "It's just so smart. This Bitcoin timing thing you have..."

"What about it?"

"Time zones." He said it like he'd been thinking about it for a while. "Bitcoin doesn't have time zones. It has block height. Everyone on earth, same block, same moment."

"Yeah. It really is a digital heartbeat."

"No, but it's also a universal clock. It solves every problem developers have with timezones."

Maya's head snapped. "How do you know that?"

"I'm actually a product manager." He said it like a confession. "For a case management system. The US spans a lot of time zones."

Maya stood up slowly. "You're a product manager."

He waved it off. "It's not —"

She shook her head. Whispered to herself, "that makes so much sense."

"We're so behind in government. Don't get impressed. I barely know what I'm doing."

"I doubt that."

"No, really. I have a master's in public policy. I started as a regulation writer. It's only 'cause shit was so broken that I fell into the tech side of things."

"Sean." She waved her hand toward the board. "I couldn't sleep Thursday night. I was up until four in the morning because of what you wrote. I redesigned the entire protocol around your idea."

"Maya —"

"Stop selling yourself short. You literally inspired this."

He didn't know what to say.

"Your format. My protocol." Maya said. "That's how this gets into people's hands."

The room was very quiet. Late afternoon light made long shapes on the floor. Neither of them had noticed it moving.

"Okay fine." He smiled. "Maybe I'm your muse."

She didn't deflect. Didn't laugh. Looked at him standing at her whiteboard with her marker in his hand and neighborhoods drawn next to her relay diagrams.

 Maya's eyes lit up. "What else?"

"What?"

"What else do you want? If you could have any feature. Anything. What would you build?"

Sean laughed. "You're serious?"

"Dead serious."

"Okay." He started pacing again. "I don't want to see the notification bubble. Ever. I can appear and then disappear. I can check later if I want."

"I can build that."

"I should be able to fast forward any video. The creator shouldn't be able to control how I watch."

"Sure. But not for the ad experience."

"Fair enough."

"What else?"

"I want to turn off the ads. Sometimes I don't want anything interrupting me. Even if I'll get paid."

"Already in the spec."

He was speeding up. "I want the app to work the same on every phone. Not this iOS-first, Android-afterthought bullshit."

"We'd build a web-app."

Sean stopped. "Why?"

"Because I'm not waiting on permission from Apple or Google to do this." Maya smiled. "Sean. Any feature you want. I can build."

He was standing three feet from her. The whiteboard behind him covered in both their handwriting. Her protocol on the left. His city on the right.

"You've really thought of everything." His voice was soft.

"I've thought of nothing else."