Hunter S. Woodward stood in the corner of his windowless office, tapping his pencil against his lip. In 25 years as a journalist for the AP, Hunter had never come across a situation like this before. This was a story, but one of disappointment. Newsweek had identified the man sitting in the chair behind him as Satoshi Nakamoto, the inventor of Bitcoin. And the real story, the story Woodward had wasted a pizza on, was that Dorian Prentice Satoshi Nakamoto, the man actually sitting in that chair, was nothing of the kind. An engineer who barely spoke English, and beyond a few circumstantial coincidences, had nothing in common with Bitcoin's creator.
"OK, Dorian, I... thank you very much again, and I have one more favor to ask, would you mind just confirming the details one more time, just so I know my notes are correct?", Hunter said, "You've already been the victim of one bad story, I want to make sure I, at least, get it right so you can get some peace."
"Of course", said Dorian. "Go ahead."
The veteran reporter strolled idly across the room, past the bulletin board, to lean on his safe. The safe was open of course, the need to keep it full of paper files of confidential material was another thing lost to new digital era that the real Nakamoto was a part of, and was empty save for the gym bag Woodward kept there.
"So... you came to this country in 1970 when E. E. Hunt corporation recruited you and sponsored your visa, you liked the sciences so you got a degree in Physics from Yale..."
"Yes, yes, physicals, yale, yes"
"...but you never liked the mathematics part. You had never heard of Bitcoins until you were first told about them two weeks ago by a friend called Ryder Shia..."
"Good friend Ryder", smiled Dorian. "Very nice man. Environmentalist, always saving the planet. Knows about Bitcoins, good with money."
"...whose birthday you were celebrating."
"...surprise Brithday", said Dorian. "Told me after he went on celebratory vacation. My English... not so good", continued Dorian, wearily, "But... yes yes, you say, uh, correctly?"
"Well thank you Dorian, and again, I'm so sorry. I hope at least you enjoyed the pizza!"
"Of course", said Dorian, "Glad to help. I go?"
"Of course", said Hunter. "I'll call you a cab."
Dorian staggered up, and with a wave left the office. Hunter examined his notes again, fingering the lock on his safe. The manufacturer's name, Yale, seemed oddly suspicious for some reason. And yet.
Hunter took his coffee mug from the desk, and took a sip. As he did so, the journalist's face froze, and the mug fell from his hands.
"I got degree, Physicals from Yale"
Hunter's gym bag, his physical training equipment, sat in his Yale safe, in clear view. Dorian couldn't have known it was a gym bag, surely? It was open, but only the fabric of some clothes, and his deoderant were visible. Degree brand deoderant. Coincidence. It must be. But.
The journalist's eyes switched to the bulletin board. A large poster dominated the board, "Ride Shares", it said, "Save the planet and some money!"
"Good friend Ryder. Very nice man. Environmentalist, always saving the planet. Knows about Bitcoins, good with money."
Beside the Ride Shares poster was another advertising an Easter Egg Hunt, and beside that, almost as prominant, was one announcing "Ssh! Birthday surprise!", reporting on a party being prepared for a coworker for the day they returned from vacation.
"Surprise Brithday. Told me after he went on celebratory vacation"
Paniced, Hunter picked up the phone. "Has Nakamoto left the building yet?", asked Hunter. The voice on the other end was non-commital. "I think I just saw him... hold on... no, I can't see him."
Hunter dropped the phone and ran out of the building.
Nakamoto had left quietly. "This way to leave please?" he'd asked the security guard at the door of the AP building. "Have nice day good", he said as he stepped out. He walked to the waiting taxi, and got in. His voice changed, he muttered "Get me to LAX airport, my good man. There's a Bitcoin in it for you if you can get there in fifteen minutes."