the citadel vision and family dynamics
Marla would chime in, “He genuinely believed we’d revert to traditional roles for women, confined at home, dictated to by him about what we enjoy, what we desire.”
Ben James’ chair scraped against the floor as he jumped to his feet. My husband and teenage daughter exchanged stares, and I felt compelled to step in, to quell her defiance. Within a Citadel, the Sovereign’s decree was absolute, and he could cast out or discipline on a whim.
“Give me freedom, or give me death!” Ben James proclaimed, emphasizing his point with a fork as he relished the steak I had cooked in our yard. My husband was articulating his dream of launching a second Citadel, this time on Mars, modeled after ours. With the fortune and armaments inherited from his father’s early Bitcoin ventures, we possessed the resources to establish numerous cities if we desired. And Ben James was resolute in his ambition.
In Ben James’ Citadel, homeschooling was the standard. Some mothers banded together to divide the teaching duties, rotating children every few years.
“Yes, yes, Bitcoin provides Freedom,” Marla grinned. “Without freedom, better death.” With the defiance characteristic of a teenager, she smirked at him and returned to her sandwich-making. “I do adore spreading mayonnaise on slices of bread while my brothers shop for rockets to some far-off planet.”
I handed my sons their meals and queried Luke about his day.
“They say Mars resembles the Old West,” Marla observed. I turned away, predicting the conversation’s course. “Survival is so tough that women have to assume roles typically occupied by men, either due to the demands or because the men perish.”
“GET OUT!” Ben James yelled.
“Gladly.”
Ben James beamed and resumed his seat to finish his steak. “Complete their sandwiches,” he instructed me.
My four sons burst into the house at once: seven-year-old Jared, thirteen-year-old Bo, and the seventeen-year-old twins, Jackson and Luke.
But Ben James always asserted that building rockets would never satisfy me. My true happiness was found at home. I smiled at my four boys and Eloise, at my husband. Those days of curiosity and problem-solving were behind me. The wealth from my father-in-law allowed me to find true happiness here, in this home, without the frequent surges of dopamine from solving engineering puzzles each day.
I thought I had married Ben James for love. But he clarified soon afterward that women married hypergamously, to survive, since time immemorial. Women were not designed to love men; they were meant to respect them. It was his duty to love me, to provide and safeguard, just as I did for the children. He had imparted much wisdom to me, and his zeal for self-sovereignty had inspired me.
Ben James spoke approvingly. “That, boys, is a good woman! Never ask a woman to prepare your dinner; you must direct her. If she refuses, walk away. If she complains about how you ordered her, find another woman. A fundamental test of a woman’s worth.”
I caught sight of our daughter, Marla, who was attentively assembling sandwiches for her brothers. The sunlight caught her long hair as a light breeze swayed her sundress through the open kitchen windows. We exchanged a knowing glance, a silent communication flowing between us. Meanwhile, my youngest daughter, six-year-old Eloise, was engrossed in her reading lesson at the table.
I brightened with enthusiasm. “He would guide her well.”
My gaze landed on the quote framed in the living room. “I don’t believe we shall ever have a good money again before we take the thing out of the hands of government, that is, we can’t take it violently out of the hands of government, all we can do is by some sly roundabout way introduce something that they can’t stop.”
I reminisced about my life before the war, before society crumbled into chaos, when I was in school learning to construct the very rockets he was likely dreaming of acquiring. He had no clue how they functioned.
Source: bitcoinmagazine.com
Henry embraced me tightly. “We are better men due to the inspiration. Sounds like a net gain for society to me.”
Marla smiled brightly. “Give me freedom, or give me death.”
By the time I remarried, Ben James was a distant subject of laughter.
I chuckled good-naturedly and turned to the counter, wrapping up their meals with a smile.
Bitcoin. The instrument that had leveled the power dynamics between the powerful and the oppressed. The means of liberation for millions. The great elevating force.
Before long, I was participating in the prosperity of Rockson, no longer in a Citadel limited by the intelligence of only half its population, only able to acquire dilapidated rockets, but in Rockson, a society that developed new ones and fostered innovation. I contributed my unquenchable curiosity and passion for discovery, my intellect, to the collective effort, advancing both society and the rocket industry. My numerous female colleagues collaborated with the men, and our combined intellect propelled us light years ahead of small, backward Citadels like Ben James’. Our weaponry alone could obliterate his city before he’d have time to point that anger-filled finger of criticism.
I smiled.
My husband, Henry, would say, “I can’t believe he realized that Bitcoin would empower and liberate men to vote with their feet, but couldn’t foresee it would offer women the same power over men.”
Finally! I had been envisioning this for years.
I sighed, casting him a sympathetic look. “She’ll learn,” I reassured him.
“Oh?” I inquired, my heart racing.
“Jeremy was here yesterday,” he noted.
a new life in rockson citadel
My daughter wed Jason. They had twins and were eagerly anticipating their third of hopefully many children. He continued his career as an engineer in the oil sector, while Marla had a remote job at home, tutoring university students in physics while fully tending to the toddlers. She had earned her bachelor’s degree with his support, and during her University studies, he had stepped back to care for the kids. She was now pursuing online courses for her graduate degree. They also enjoyed a robust following for their artwork, creating each morning and selling the pieces at significant prices, the shared passion that had united them from the start. Each evening, the four of them shared dinner, and anytime I wished to visit with Jared and Eloise, we were welcomed with open arms.
“Indeed. In a few years, his Bitcoin assets will be sufficient for a small Citadel of his own. Not a city, but certainly a small town or large ranch, accommodating a dozen other families. He would manage it exceptionally well.”
We’d been residing in Rockson Citadel for six years. It took a full two years for Ben James to track us down. He quickly realized that we had escaped to a smaller nation that was significantly more affluent than he was. There was nothing he could do to reclaim us. I possessed my own Bitcoin that he remained oblivious to, sufficient to flee, to secure protection, and he could not reach us—I no longer worried about our safety.
I would laugh, Henry’s arm joyfully around me. “Our freedom compels men to elevate their game to be chosen by us—we have the resources to leave, to prosper, to possess the power to choose what’s best for us, to have a voice in the conversation.” Cheekily, I added, “Men must put in more proof of work.”
Ben James set down his fork, raising an eyebrow as he pondered her statement. “Perhaps those boys haven’t yet grasped what it means to be masculine,” he suggested. “Such behavior wouldn’t be acceptable in my Mars Citadel any more than it is here. No woman of mine will ever serve another man. I won’t allow promiscuity in my family or my Citadels.”
Marla exited, smugly discarding the knife on the unfinished sandwiches.
Marla’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “So what does that make the men working for other men?” she shot back. “Didn’t you used to work for—“
“He intends to marry her.”
“You’re a young, tumultuous woman,” he said softly. “You can’t fathom how the world operates. You possess everything you need. As a family, we’re liberated from the oppressions of the State. And you are fortunate to be where you truly belong. Women find their greatest joy in the home, nurturing and raising children. I will hear no more of this nonsense.”
This is a guest post by Ninja Grandma. Opinions expressed are entirely their own and do not necessarily reflect those of BTC Inc or Bitcoin Magazine.
He smiled at me. “A bunch of stuff you wouldn’t understand,” he said affectionately.
