There still remained the problem of how to turn Dísa’s bitcoin into krónur and get it into Helga’s bank account in Iceland. But Helga said she had been able to borrow enough money to keep the farm going until they figured that one out.
They agreed that the best idea was for Dísa to ask Ómar, and to do it face to face, but to warn him in advance so he had time to find out how to sell the bitcoin and get the proceeds back to Iceland. To her intense frustration, Mum insisted that Dísa not tell her father about her plans to bail out the farm. Mum was worried that Dad wouldn’t help Dísa sell her bitcoin if he knew what she was planning to use it for. Dísa thought the opposite, that he would be pleased, but she reluctantly accepted her perennial role as her parents’ lying go-between.
It was a seven-hour bus trip from Akureyri to Reykjavík, which would take Dísa most of Saturday getting there and most of Sunday getting back. Plenty of time to do the homework that was backing up. But it seemed worth it, especially since Dad said he had an idea that required Dísa seeing him in person.
Dad met Dísa at the bus terminal in Mjódd and drove her back to his dilapidated flat in Nordurmýri in the centre of Reykjavík. He was bubbling — Dísa had never seen her father so excited — and it was all about bitcoin.
‘Did you see what happened yesterday?’ he said. ‘The price smashed through ten thousand. Can you believe it? I told you it would go up.’
Dísa smiled. ‘You said it would double this year, Dad. Actually, it went up ten times.’
‘OK, OK. I was wrong.’ He turned and grinned at his daughter. ‘But I was so right.’
‘Thanks, Dad. I can’t thank you enough.’
‘It’s no problem,’ Dad said. But she could tell from his smile he was pleased with her thanks. ‘The best decision I ever made to give you that bitcoin. And your Ethereum trade was genius. I knew you would get this stuff.’
Dísa nodded happily. She was pretty pleased with herself, truth be told.
‘But now you want to sell?’
Dísa nodded. ‘The price can’t keep going up forever. I think it’s time to take my profits.’
‘What will you do with the money?’
‘Just put it in the bank,’ Dísa lied. ‘At least for now. Maybe I’ll invest it in something else later.’
Dísa hated lying. So why did she always end up doing it anyway? It was her parents, of course. She never lied to anyone else. One day she would give up lying for them. One day soon.
‘But I need to figure out how to sell the bitcoin and change it into krónur.’
‘OK. Well, I’ve got an idea about that. Sharp’s over from London.’
‘The guy who put you into bitcoin in the first place?’
‘That’s him. And he’s got a new idea. It’s called Thomocoin. There’s a presentation this evening and we should go.’
‘But I don’t want to buy some other cryptocurrency. I want to sell.’
‘It’ll be worth seeing, I promise you.’
Dísa frowned.
‘Trust me. Aren’t you glad you trusted me before?’
‘I am,’ Dísa acknowledged.
‘Well then?’
The Thomocoin presentation took place in the underground auditorium of one of Reykjavík’s large hotels. It wasn’t exactly what Dísa had imagined a sober investment presentation would be like. There was loud music, expensive lighting and a real buzz among the hundred or so people who were there.
Dísa was intrigued.
The presentation was begun by a dark-haired Icelandic woman of about thirty named Fjóla who seemed almost comically overexcited. She demanded audience participation, and got it, encouraging cheers at the mention of Thomocoin, and rapturous applause as she introduced ‘Iceland’s foremost financial brain and Thomocoin’s CEO’, Sharp.
Sharp bounded on to the stage. He was a tall man, pretty cute, Dísa had to admit, with short fair hair, a square jaw, and bright blue eyes that danced enticingly before settling on his audience in a thrilling stare.
He admitted that his real name was Skarphédinn Gíslason and got the audience laughing when he explained how difficult that name was for foreigners outside Iceland. He explained that he had had a younger brother named Thomas who had died of leukaemia at the age of ten, and Thomocoin was named after him.
He then told the audience all about Thomocoin.
The problem, he said, with bitcoin and Ethereum and all the other cryptocurrencies was that they had been set up as digital currencies to rival the old-world offline paper currencies. What was needed was a new cryptocurrency that was designed to slot into the regulations and payment systems of the real world, yet keep the anonymity and trustworthiness and freedom from government interference. And it would be a way for people without bank accounts all over the world to receive their wages and pay their bills easily, something billions of people needed desperately.
Thomocoin was that currency.
He cut to a video of an old Swiss guy with a pointy grey beard who talked about regulation, then a smooth Ugandan with a pointy black beard who talked about how Thomocoin would revolutionize village life all over Africa, and then a Chinese woman with no beard whatsoever who talked about how a billion Chinese were itching to buy Thomocoin.
Finally Sharp asked the question that had been bothering Dísa. Why, with all those billions of people demanding to buy Thomocoin all over the world, had Sharp bothered with Iceland?
The answer he gave was that Iceland was the most advanced country in the world in digital payments, and, he said, Icelanders were the smartest people.
The crowd loved that. They knew he was being ironic, yet they believed he secretly meant it at the same time.
Thomocoin was going to be launched in two weeks, in time for Christmas. They had decided to launch it to the smartest early investors before they had an exchange set up ready to convert it into hard currency, and before they had the regulatory approvals, because that would give a chance for the guys who got in early to make a fortune. All they would need was a bit of patience and a bit of belief.
It all sounded pretty good to Dísa.
Afterwards, Dísa and Dad went up to the hotel bar to meet Sharp, who was there with Fjóla, a couple of young guys in T-shirts, and a few Icelandic admirers. Sharp seemed genuinely pleased to see Dad, and gave him a warm embrace.
‘This is my daughter, Dísa,’ Ómar said. Dísa glowed from the pride in his voice.
Sharp turned his piercing eyes on her. ‘Hi, Dísa. You’re the young woman who bought the Ethereum last winter, right? Your dad told me about you.’
‘That’s right,’ Dísa said. ‘It’s all back in bitcoin now.’
‘And now you want to take your profits? You know bitcoin is shooting up even faster now?’
‘I know,’ said Dísa. ‘But from what I’ve read that means the price is getting near the top. I don’t know where the top is, but I’ve made enough for now.’
Sharp grinned. ‘Smart girl. Take a look at Thomocoin. Do your research. Check out the white paper on our website — it will tell you all you need to know. If you like what you see, use your bitcoin to buy Thomocoin when it comes out in a couple of weeks. Then wait until we set up the exchanges and get the regulatory approvals, and sell it. If you want. My guess is Thomocoin will prove to be just as good an investment as your Ethereum.’
‘When will the exchange be ready?’
‘Hard to say. It takes time and we want to do it properly. Six months? A year, max. In the meantime, talk to Fjóla. She’s in charge of launching Thomocoin in Iceland.’
Fjóla smiled and handed Dísa a card emblazoned with the Thomocoin logo.
‘Thanks, Sharp,’ Dísa said. And then: ‘I’m sorry about your little brother Thomas. Or Tómas,’ she corrected herself, using the Icelandic version of the name.