Call me a fraud if you wish.
Call me a liar.
Call me delusional.
Call me whatever makes you feel comfortable.
The interesting thing is that none of those words matter once the code exists.
For years, many people have focused on stopping me, discrediting me, attacking me, censoring me, misrepresenting me, and preventing anything I was working on from ever seeing the light of day.
At one stage that may have worked.
At one stage much of this existed only in my head, in notebooks, in designs, in unfinished code, in prototypes, in ideas that had not yet become reality.
Ideas can be delayed.
Ideas can be suppressed.
Ideas can be ridiculed.
What becomes much harder to stop is a working system.
This month the code goes public.
Not a promise.
Not a roadmap.
Not a marketing presentation.
Code.
Working systems.
Architectures.
Protocols.
Implementations.
People will be free to inspect it, analyse it, criticise it, improve it, fork it, extend it, or ignore it.
That choice will belong to them.
The thing that many people seem unable to understand is that I am not asking anyone for money.
I am not selling access.
I am not selling licences.
I am not selling permission.
I am not creating a gatekeeper.
I am releasing it.
Free.
The irony is that this is the part many people will find hardest to believe.
Not the cryptography.
Not the distributed threshold systems.
Not the digital possession model.
Not the ability to create truly scarce digital goods.
The hardest thing for many people to understand is that after spending years building it, I am simply giving it away.
And that is why it is already too late to stop.
A secret can be suppressed.
An unpublished idea can be buried.
A prototype can be hidden.
A public implementation cannot be uninvented.
Once the code exists in the open, it belongs to history.
From that point onward, the question is no longer whether it can be stopped.
The question becomes what the world chooses to build with it.