The judge rose out of the sea one day in February. It admonished us for our sins, and we shot it through with depleted uranium. Micromarkets sprung up to suck at the holes in its sides and back. Free contractors pulling their craft up to lap up the novel juice as they spilled. The frenzy started as speculation, but the early testers reported that, actually, this shit was for real. The juice was good.
But that wasn’t all. As the judge fell forward into the waves, entrepreneurs clambered onto its back, cribbling for value. They found impossibly thin plates of metal, and sweet jewels bedazzling the spaces where they met. And under that, soft fibers that couldn’t get wet. This was a fucking pay day like never. Like never ever before.
Big cut brokers woke up their contacts from the other side of the planet to get up and get in here before it was too late.
As the judge started to fill with water and sink, an enterprising startup Solidus hypercontractors launched a venture to fill the judge with gas, to keep him above the greedy waves as long as possible. Immediately, they raised enough series A capital to start a permanent workers cooperative (®) on the judge’s back.
In protest, the beast rolled over revealing his pearl belly, almost crashing the nascent markets. But a relief army of tuggs puttered in to take up the work again, this time observed by the judge’s yellow eye, half submerged.
They clambered back on and ate and ate and ate.