The Cursèd Coin

Recently I sought a most miserly treasure, the Cursèd Coin! Back near the dawn of 2022, I burnt the horrid NFTronomicon—the bleak tome which contained the very concept of NFTs. As ye know, NFTs swiftly collapsed thereafter, the mortal fever for them broken! In spare moments since, I chased rumors, & caught whispers, of an even grander prize. With it, I could free mortalkind of the scourge of Money itself! With the Cursèd Coin, in the right hands, thy world I would transform…

Beneath a secret pit under old Wall Street, I pried open the hidden grate—placed there by foul Dutchmen in 1609—which connected to the Cashacombs. A globe-spanning network of tombs & tunnels, the Cashacombs link every financial center in thy world. They first appeared shortly after man struck the first coins in Guangzheng, deep in the fog of the Axial Age. More tunnels appeared in Ephesus, in Gandhara—anyplace coinage spread, the tunnels expanded. When Coin came to be spread by force, the tunnels were dug, as the Men who carried them believed the tunnels central to mighty Coin’s powers. Sages disagree, but I believe the tunnels represent the rot wrought by Coin, a hideous reflection below of the ravenous blight above.

Whatever the truth, I knew the Cursèd Coin lay at the Cashacombs’ heart. I hiked through halls & vaults, full of every sort of coin ever struck or punched or even dreamt! I might have filled sacks & chests at my leisure; none had guarded the Cashacombs for over a century. Why would they? Coin won, the Men thought, & they thought their victory irreversible. But once one begins delving the Cashacombs, dragging its treasures up & down & around, one loses their way, & becomes gripped by Numismania! ‘Tis easy, too easy, to buy into the Myth of Money, & become yet another hoarder. Nay, to retrieve the Cursèd Coin, to break the back of bullion, one must be pure of heart & account.

Deeper & deeper I trekked, to the oldest tunnels, blazing hot, bedecked with strange & alien pennies. Coins of rulers who never ruled, in denominations from nations never formed. At last, in a chamber near to Hell itself, I espied the very thing I sought. A perfectly-imperfect solidus, preserved in a floating asset bubble. I reached out, & the thing seemed to wish for freedom! It sparked & spun, & I swore I could hear it jangling in my mind. Doubt crept upon me like a thief; if the Coin wishes to be free, is my mission a fool’s errand? The flashing eyes of long-dead Constantine pierced me through, throbbing a demand. If I destroyed the Cursèd Coin, that would not end Money—it would unleash money. The Coin claimed to keep it in check, restraining Money’s most hideous impulses. Without Coin, a million foul Monies would bloom, of every stripe & sort, with random values & inflation untold! Eagerly, the Coin wished for this nightmare, but I stayed my hand.

In freeing the world, I would doom it! So, I left the hideous solidus where it hovered, defeated—for now. To end Money, it seemed, required a grander quest. Someday, mortals, ye shall be free of it! But for now, I am afraid, Cursèd Coin still reigns. But at least I pocketed a few silver dollars from the State of Jefferson, on my way out…

Deepest apologies, mortals, for the continued dominance of Money! If ye disagree with my choice, well, ye are welcome to travel the Cashacombs & choose elsewise. I recommend bringing water, food, & breathable air.

Thank ye for reading, & I hope ye enjoyed the tale. Thanks also to all who can & do spare five cursèd dollars monthly to support our works here!

I shall write ye again Wednesday with news of this week’s show—& below, find evidence of my quest against the NFTronomicon! YE ARE WELCOME. Until Wednesday, be safe, be well, & be on guard for anyone attempting to sell ye “Jefferson bucks.”

Cheers,
Amoenus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Unmoneyer