THE PRICE OF TRUTH
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It's past midnight, and the screens never go out. In the glass towers, the charts blink like electronic prayers to invisible gods. The markets are restless, traders are whispering, and governments are calculating their survival with decimals and debt. The modern world no longer sleeps; it trades. Every moment is a desperate attempt to keep alive a collective fiction: that of infinite wealth in a finite world. The truth, however, remains still. It doesn't join the party. It waits for its moment.
For decades, civilizations have replaced value with narrative. We no longer work to create, we work to compensate. Numbers have replaced substance. Money is no longer a tool, but a story: the story of the power to promise without delivering. The banking system has established itself as the high priest of this modern religion. Its liturgy is simple: to make people believe that everything is fine, that everything is under control, that the rules can bend without breaking. And the people, addicted to debt, applaud silently.
But sometimes, reality arrives unannounced. A crash, inflation, a sovereign default. The curtain falls for a moment, and we glimpse what the world refuses to see: truth has a price. It doesn't disappear. It hides in the gaps, in the figures that aren't shown, in the balance sheets that are no longer published. And for the last fifteen years, it has been embodied in a cold, mathematical, incorruptible object: Bitcoin.
Bitcoin doesn't speak, it observes. It makes no promises, it delivers. It doesn't ask for faith, it demands proof. This is what makes it unbearable for the powerful: it doesn't play their game. In a world built on the lie of "always more," it embodies "never more." Twenty-one million. Not one more. A simple, naked truth, indifferent to human desires. It's a slap in the face to a world that has forgotten that scarcity is the root of all value.
Each halving is a stark reminder of this law. Every four years, like a divine clock, the protocol reduces the reward. Production slows. The illusory abundance of fiat currency contrasts sharply with the rigor of this cosmic rhythm. With each halving, Bitcoin purifies itself, and the fiat world reveals a little more of its true nature. What speculators call an economic event is, in reality, a spiritual act. An exorcism of falsehood.
In online forums and on television, experts are in a frenzy. They comment on the price, analyze the charts, and invent models. But they don't understand. It's not the price of Bitcoin that's changing. It's the value of the lie that's collapsing. The traditional system, founded on debt and empty promises, is slowly disintegrating, while an incorruptible structure expands, block after block. Each halving cycle is a shedding of skin. A shedding of the economy, but also of human consciousness.
The miner, however, doesn't speak of spirituality. He works. He knows the cost of truth: energy, heat, noise. He sees reality, raw and unvarnished. His machine heats up, the fans roar, and he instinctively understands what many refuse to admit: nothing true exists without effort. The expenditure of energy is not a waste, it is an offering. The miner burns energy as others burned incense. He feeds the fire of coherence.
Meanwhile, the bankers are struggling to keep the charade going. They talk about monetary innovation, benevolent regulation, central bank digital currency. They want to tame the fire. To transform it into a tool of control. But the truth cannot be tamed. Bitcoin doesn't need permission to exist. It spreads like a wave, wherever someone refuses to lie.
The price of truth is the pain of unlearning. Generations raised in the comfort of credit are discovering they were living in an illusion. That purchasing power was nothing but a subsidized mirage. That growth was merely a collective delay in payment. Fiat currency is the perfect drug: it makes people docile, it rewards forgetfulness, it erases the memory of effort. Bitcoin, on the other hand, makes them sober. And sobriety hurts.
It's no coincidence that the word "fiat" means "so be it." A divine decree. An order from on high. The current monetary system rests on the same logic: creation ex nihilo, the magic of balance sheets. All it takes is for a central bank to say "let there be money," and there is. An inflation of authority. A lie blessed by decree. Bitcoin came to shatter this religion of the word. It doesn't create through words; it creates through proof.
Each block is an act of verification. A stone laid upon the lie. A signature that says: this is true, because it cost something. It is this simple equation that restores meaning to the economy. An economy without cost is an economy without truth. It is no coincidence that the word “economy” comes from “nomos,” law, and “oikos,” home. Bitcoin restores law to the home.
The price of truth is also isolation. Those who choose to hold their own keys become suspect. Those who refuse KYC become subversive. Those who speak of monetary sovereignty become extremists. Because they step outside the collective narrative. They disturb those who still live in the gilded cage of lies. The Bitcoiner is the one who no longer believes. Not out of cynicism, but out of maturity. They have stopped looking for an authority figure to whom they can delegate the responsibility for their future. They prefer to bear the burden of proof alone.
Truth has a price, but it brings a peace that lies cannot know. This peace is anything but comfortable. It is a sharp lucidity, a solitude punctuated by flashes of reality. No longer do they sleep in the cocoon of denial, they keep watch in the light. This is what miners, developers, and hodlers experience. They don't pray, they monitor. They maintain the chain like one tends a flame. And while they work, the rest of the world continues to celebrate its mirages.
Central banks are reinventing money. They're giving it new names: stablecoins, CBDCs, innovations. They're repainting the cage, modernizing the bars. But the logic remains the same: print effortlessly, tax without transparency, promise without keeping. The difference is that this time, the mirror exists. The protocol is running. It doesn't complain, it doesn't accuse, it doesn't make demands. It shows. And showing is enough to destroy the lie.
The real tragedy of the fiat world isn't debt, it's the fear of reality. We've forgotten how to lose. How to suffer. How to wait. How to earn. We've replaced the truth of work with the comfort of broadcasting. Each generation wants abundance without limits, wealth without discipline. Bitcoin came to remind us that limits are what give meaning. That without scarcity, there is no value, and without value, there is no humanity.
The halving is the purest moment of this reminder. For a few minutes, the entire world of computing tenses, readjusts. The reward is split in two. The machines continue. No one negotiates. No debate, no politics. Just an equation executed at the precise time. It is the liturgy of reality. A ceremony without priest, without leader, without lies. And yet, of a solemnity that nothing human can equal.
With each halving, thousands of voices rise up to announce the end of Bitcoin. “Too slow,” “too energy-intensive,” “too expensive.” Always the same refrains, the same criticisms, the same willful blindness. And yet, block after block, the clock ticks. Every word spoken against it is lost in the noise. The truth doesn't respond; it persists.
A day will come when future generations will wonder how we could have lived in a system where money knew no bounds. How we could have believed that printing was an act of creation. How we could have accepted that some men would arrogate to themselves the right to devalue the fruits of others' labor. They will read history as one reads a tale of collective madness. And they will find, etched in digital stone, proof that none of it was necessary.
The price of truth is also the renunciation of hatred. Bitcoin doesn't need to destroy fiat currency to exist. It simply needs to endure. Lies consume themselves; they don't need an enemy. The energy Bitcoin expends isn't for burning, it's for engraving. It engraves coherence in a world of flux. It engraves limits in a world without restraint. It engraves memory in a world suffering from amnesia.
Yes, the truth is expensive. But it's the only price worth paying. Everything else is subsidized by lies.
Bitcoin isn't here to make people rich. It's here to put them in their place. To remind them that value is earned, that freedom is embraced, that truth cannot be decreed. It is the scale in a world of rigged weights. A scale of gold and electricity. Each block added weighs against nothingness. And as long as the scale holds, the world has a chance to become real again.
Because in the end, the price of truth is the price of dignity.
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