An iEtherean Tale #89

An imaginary iEtherean tale based on true stories, real events, news, articles and/or facts…

Knive Spiel was already on his third coffee of the morning when he stormed into the office with a printout of the email from X—formerly Twitter—clutched in his hand. The bold font at the top of the page read, "Your Account Has Been Temporarily Suspended." His scowl was so pronounced it could have chiseled Mount Rushmore a fifth face.

"Team meeting. Now," he barked, his voice a mix of irritation and caffeine-induced tremor.

The team, a motley crew of crypto-enthusiasts, marketers, and one guy named Larry who everyone thought was IT but was actually just the janitor, shuffled into the small conference room. The room was dominated by a whiteboard covered in flowcharts, all leading to a large, circled phrase: "iEthereum = Freedom."

Knive slammed the printout onto the table like it was a court summons. "They’ve silenced us. Temporarily suspended. They called us a risk to their precious algorithm!"

"Why?" asked Tessa, the social media manager, as she nervously chewed on her pen. "What did we post?"

Knive shrugged dramatically. "Who knows? Could’ve been the meme about decentralized ledger technology being the new gold rush. Or maybe it was the 'Not your keys, not your crypto' thread."

Larry, who had wandered into the meeting by mistake while looking for his mop, chimed in, "Could’ve been that cat GIF with the laser eyes. That was kinda spicy."

Knive sighed. "The point is, it doesn’t matter. The system is rigged. We’re building a decentralized future, and these centralized platforms are trying to keep us in the Stone Age."

The room nodded in solemn agreement.

By lunchtime, Knive had decided on a course of action: the team would create an account on Gab, the lesser-known alternative to X. It was, as Knive put it, "a free-speech haven where innovation wouldn’t be throttled by corporate overlords."

Tessa set up the account while Knive paced the office, dictating their first post.

"Write this: 'We’ve joined Gab! Come gab with us at @iethereum. No algorithmic overlords here—just freedom, technology, and good vibes.'"

Tessa hesitated. "Good vibes? Are we sure that’s the tone we’re going for?"

Knive threw up his hands. "Fine. Replace 'good vibes' with 'unstoppable innovation.' But keep it snappy!"

The transition to Gab was anything but smooth. Tessa found herself overwhelmed trying to juggle multiple platforms.

"Knive," she groaned one afternoon, "do you know how hard it is to post on X, Gab, and our blog, while also answering emails and moderating Telegram?"

Knive waved dismissively. "You’re doing the work of a crypto pioneer, Tessa. History will remember you."

"History better buy me a pizza," she muttered under her breath.

Meanwhile, the Gab account wasn’t quite taking off as expected. The first few posts garnered little attention, save for a comment from a user named @CryptoEarl who wrote, "What’s iEthereum? Sounds like a toothpaste brand."

Knive was undeterred. "Rome wasn’t built in a day," he said, scribbling motivational quotes on the whiteboard. "Neither was Ethereum. And certainly not iEthereum."

One evening, just as Tessa was about to call it a day, a message popped up on Gab from a user with the handle @GabGodfather. It read:

"I see you’re new here. Welcome to the underground. Let me know if you need a signal boost."

Knive was ecstatic. "This is it! The breakthrough we’ve been waiting for."

Larry, who had been fixing the office Wi-Fi (or at least pretending to), raised an eyebrow. "Or it’s a scammer. Be careful, boss."

Knive ignored him and replied enthusiastically, thanking the mysterious user and agreeing to a virtual coffee chat the next day.

The next morning, Knive logged onto Gab for the scheduled chat with @GabGodfather. However, the chat quickly derailed when the mysterious user demanded 50 iEthereum tokens in exchange for a shoutout.

Knive’s irritation hit a boiling point. "This is extortion!" he fumed, slamming his laptop shut.

Tessa peeked over her cubicle. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Knive said through gritted teeth. "Just another centralized mind pretending to care about decentralization."

By now, the entire office had gathered to watch the drama unfold. Larry, munching on a bag of chips, offered some sage advice: "Maybe try posting more memes. Everyone loves memes."

Determined not to let the setback discourage them, Knive declared a "meme war." The team spent the rest of the day creating and posting memes about iEthereum’s resilience, with captions like:

"Centralized censorship? Not on our watch."
"Gab about freedom. Gab about iEthereum."
"Join the revolution—one Gab at a time."

To their surprise, the memes went viral within the small but passionate Gab community. Comments flooded in, ranging from genuine curiosity to outright hilarity.

@CryptoEarl commented, "Okay, maybe iEthereum isn’t toothpaste. But is it chewing gum?"

Knive responded with a chuckle. "Chewing gum for your financial freedom."

Weeks later, the iEthereum Gab account had gained a modest but loyal following. Knive’s irritation had morphed into a kind of stoic persistence. The team celebrated their small victories with a pizza party in the office, courtesy of Tessa’s subtle reminder.

As they laughed and shared stories, Knive raised his slice of pizza in a toast. "To freedom, technology, and good vibes—or unstoppable innovation, if you prefer."

Larry raised his soda can. "And to spicy cat GIFs."

The room erupted in laughter. For the first time in weeks, Knive felt a flicker of hope. They might not have conquered the world yet, but they were building something meaningful—one Gab at a time.

Months later, the iEthereum Advocacy Trust had become a symbol of resilience in the face of social media censorship. Knive’s initial annoyance had fueled a movement, and their Gab account had grown into a thriving community.

As for Larry, he eventually learned what iEthereum was and became the team’s unofficial mascot.

In the end, it wasn’t about the platforms or the algorithms—it was about persistence, creativity, and the simple act of gabbing about a vision for the future.