Alfred

First published on February 28, 2024, in my blog "Outlandish Stories".

Click here to read the story in Russsian.

Click here to read the story in German.

February 28th, 2024. A frosty Monday that stood like a grim sentinel at the end of winter. A day when you would like to hide under the covers with a cup of hot chocolate and long for spring. At least that’s what Alfred did. He eagerly awaited the warmer days that would bring sunshine to his area. The February cold and gloom weighed on his mood like an invisible block of lead.

Alfred, 28-year-old freelance fitness trainer, lived with his wife Helga and their seven-year-old daughter Imke. His income was anything but steady. Sometimes business was booming, and new clients were bombarding him with requests, other times there was a lull for weeks. During the latter phases, the young man's doubts about his career choice grew in inverse proportion to his bank account. He walked around the apartment with a grumpy expression and clenched his fists, unable to banish his worries. “I have to be able to provide for my family!” was his only thought in these moments.

Helga was a year older than her husband and worked as a general practitioner in a family practice. Thanks to her secure employment, her contribution to the household’s war chest exceeded at times significantly that of her husband. The fact that he earned less never bothered her, although she did call him sometimes “Geringverdiener”, a German word for people with a fairly modest income. Lovingly, of course - she never meant to offend him. Their joint income was not only enough for a comfortable life, but also enabled the young family to build savings and invest.

Alfred was diagnosed with a manic-depressive disorder when he was a teenager. The condition gave his mood’s lows and highs an additional explosiveness. Helga, who sometimes had to exercise patience when Alfred was going though one of his occasional down-in-the-dumps or off-the-rails episodes. She made it her mission to support him and accompany him through his mood swings. In his euphoric phases she tried to calm him down, while in his dark moments she was by his side, showing him love. She tried every possible way to get a smile out of him, which she celebrated as a small victory. When the dark clouds on Alfred's face cleared, he would give her a kiss and say that he would be lost without her.

On February 28th, Alfred decided to invest some of his and Helgas savings in Toncoin. He was no stranger to cryptocurrencies; He was familiar with Bitcoin, Ethereum and a few others. However, he did not see himself as an expert as he lacked the technical understanding of how this technology works. His wife Helga, on the other hand, was much deeper into the matter and always had the last word when it came to asset allocation. Alfred was perfectly fine with this arrangement because his mood swings made it difficult for him to deal with the volatility of the crypto market. On numerous occasions, Helga had had to take his cell phone out of his hand when he stared transfixed at the fluctuating prices for hours on end. She then reminded him that this was just a waste of time and that he should focus on something that brought him “added value” and helped him achieve his long-term goals.  He couldn't argue with this line of reasoning: she was right, and he was grateful to her for being able to discipline him where he himself failed.

Over the last few weeks, Alfred has been deeply immersed in the ecosystem of Toncoin. His conviction that TON represented a great investment opportunity grew with each passing day. The future of TON looked bright in his eyes: it had been integrated into Telegram's wallet last year, and Pavel Durov, the visionary founder of Telegram, kept promising new use cases for the blockchain that shared many core developers with the Telegram itself. “Anyone who believed in the vision of Telegram and Pavel Durov will be interested in TON and Telegram already has 900 million users,” thought Holger. As soon as his wife returned from work, he had to pitch TON to her.

Life occasionally takes an unexpected turn and forces us to alter our plans, and this was one of those times.

He would have no trouble sticking to his plan if it hadn't been for Pavel Durov's announcement in his Telegram channel "Du Rove Channel" that came less than an hour later:

“Starting next month, Telegram channel operators will be able to make money from their content. Telegram Ads launch in 100 new countries, channel owners receive 50% of advertising revenue. Payments are processed securely via the TON blockchain.”

As he read the message, his pulse shot up and his breathing quickened. If this announcement had come after he purchased Toncoin, he would have been ecstatic. Now he was desperate.  He quickly logged into his TradingView account, typed in the ticker TON in the search bar and opened the corresponding candlestick chart with a 1-hour interval. A huge green candle rose like a Falcon 9 rocket flying into outer space. The earlier 1-hour candles increasingly flattened into a straight, reliefless line that resembled a red-green valley from which the green-bodied spaceship moved further and further away every second. This was a flight to financial security and early retirement.  One thing Alfred knew: he wasn’t a passenger on this flight.

Alfred cursed under his breath when he saw the relentless price surge. Immediate action was required. Within a minute, he transferred a significant amount to his trading account and placed a $10,000 market buy order. His order was executed when TON traded at the $2.80 mark. An increase of almost 40% since the morning of the same day.

Only once his order was filled did Alfred realize that he had made a mistake when entering the quantity. He was just too excited. The value of the buy order turned out to be $100,000 instead of $10,000. He accidentally bought $100,000 worth of Toncoin. He broke out in a cold sweat as he realized what he just did. He stared at the screen as if spellbound and did not dare to touch his open position. TON rose another 7% over the next few minutes to trade $2.99 and his nominal position size was now $107,000. $7,000 in profit after just a few minutes! Alfred was intoxicated. What would happen if the price continued to rise? Could he get rich with this purchase?

Such a spectacle would have intoxicated even a neurotypical person: Alfred was euphoric. Finally! The Toncoin price skyrocketed even further, his account balance grew with every second. Dreams that previously seemed all but unattainable suddenly became within reach. Trip to Ville de Quebec, the long-awaited vacation that had to be postponed again and again for cost reasons, was now back on the plan. He would finally be able to renovate the kitchen and create a college fund for his daughter who wanted to study medicine someday. The little girl already knew who she wanted to become one day.

He felt invincible, his chest swelling with pride. He would now sell off most of his outsized TON position and reap the hefty profit which now amounted to almost half of his annual gross income. A rush of joy flowed through his body and he danced around the apartment like a dervish. He was already imagining the most beautiful scenarios - a carefree life in luxury, trips to the most remote corners of the world which he could now make possible for Helga and Imke. However, in his excitement Alfred forgot that the money he was dreaming about was still only a paper profit. After half an hour of daydreaming and boundless joy he realized this and rushed to the computer. When he logged into his trading account again, he could hardly believe his eyes. The price of Toncoin had fallen to $2.60 and his sizable gain had turned into a loss of the same amount. Terror and panic coursed through him. A cold shiver ran down his spine. He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his mind because he just couldn't fathom it. What happened? Has he done everything wrong? Has the rocket used up all its fuel? Has it become too heavy to carry all its numerous passengers?

There was little hope of a soft landing.

Despite the shock, he tried to calm himself. In vain. The bloodbath had to end; it was only a matter of time. “I just have to be patient,” thought Alfred. “It must only be some profit-taking by paper hands that has pushed the price down so much,” he said, looking for a plausible explanation for the price decline. He almost convinced himself of it, but deep down he felt that his dream of great wealth was slipping away from him. A brief twitch in the corner of his eye showed that hope was fading.

Around 3:00 p.m., he watched with increasing horror the price of TON plummet toward the bottom of some unfathomably deep abyss like a downed Su-35S. His panic took the better of him: he tore tufts of his hair and bit his fingernails.

In a fit of rage, he flung the monitor off the desk. The device crashed onto the parquet floor with a deafening thud, and black streaks of liquid crystal material began to creep across the screen. Alfred sank to his knees and sobbed uncontrollably. His fury transmuting into despair.

"I betrayed them all. My daughter's future, shattered by my own hand." The thought pounded in Alfred's skull.

Helga's accusing eyes flashed in his mind – silent, arms crossed, utterly devoid of warmth. Her silent condemnation echoed louder than any scream.

Imke's tear-stained face, nestled against her mother.

This vision crushed him.

"I'm a monster..." Alfred choked out among his sobs.

"I have to free her from this burden," he vowed, his jaw clenched, a single tear tracing a path down his cheek. "They don't deserve any of this." His fingers grasped the icy metal of the top drawer's handle, chilling his fingertips. A tremor ran through him, but he steeled himself and yanked it open.

A trove of medical supplies lay nestled within the drawer, meticulously organized into compact compartments. Alfred began searching for the Temazepam package - a benzodiazepine-based sedative prescribed to Helga by her physician to combat her bouts of sleeplessness. Delving into the drawer's depths, he finally unearthed... the object of his search.

With shaky fingers, he removed a blister pack from the box, peeled off the foil, and squeezed the pills into his palm. Five small white dots promised him the end of his troubles. Ignoring the bitter taste in his mouth, he swallowed it with a glass of water. Then he sat down on the sofa, his eyes closed, his breathing deep and calm. He waited for sleep that would envelop him and draw him into a gentle, liberating, forever-lasting darkness. Liberation for him, salvation for his family. An end to the burden that had weighed them all down for so long.Alfred's limbs slowly went limp and he fainted.

Five minutes later there was a sound of a key turning in the front door lock. The apartment door swung open, and Helga stepped inside. Her usual greeting hung in the air, unanswered. Silence pressed against her ears. "Alfred must be out," she reasoned, a flicker of unease snaking through her.

In the living room, a sight stole her breath:  she saw her husband on the sofa with his mouth gaping. She had never seen him fall asleep in this unnatural position. Her heart was pounding. She rushed to Alfred and shook him to wake him up. No movement. Trembling, she placed her fingers on his neck to check his pulse. The pulse was weak, barely noticeable. Panic rose within her. What happened? Had Alfred try to take his own life?  Her eyes darted across the living room and caught sight of the empty blister pack on the floor. Without hesitation, she picked up the phone and dialed 112.

Helga frantically thought about what she could do before the paramedics arrived. “Gastric lavage!” popped into her head.

Wringing her hands, she looked for the stomach tube, which she luckily had in the house but had never needed before, and began the procedure.

With practiced movements, she inserted the tube into Alfred's mouth and started rinsing his stomach with lukewarm water. Time was running against her. Every second was precious. Alfred coughed and gagged while Helga held the tube and spoke reassuringly to him in a calm voice. Finally, Alfred vomited the contents of his stomach onto the floor and began coughing violently. His breathing was heavy, but he was alive. Helga had saved his life.

She looked at Alfred with teary eyes and stroked his blonde hair. It didn't occur to her to scold him or pester him with questions. She knew how weakened he was. He had to come to himself.

Helga gave him one last worried look before leaving him on the sofa and walking into her bedroom.  On the nightstand next to the double bed was a glass of water and Thorazine pills - an antipsychotic prescribed to Alfred by his psychiatrist.

"He forgot to take his pill again," she murmured sadly.

Helga returned to the living room, the question of what triggered it burning in her head. Her eyes fell on the monitor that had been swept off the desk and lay shattered on the living room floor. A suspicion was rising inside her: she pulled out her phone and logged into their common trading account. A TON long position that she didn't know about had a loss of $20,000. “Why did he buy such a big bag without talking it over with me first?” she wondered.

Helga had read Durov's announcement herself and believed that new Ads revenue program would be a tailwind for TON. But what could have caused the rising trend to reverse so suddenly? She didn't have to look far for an answer: a breaking news story on CoinDesk reported that numerous Coinbase users had their account balances suddenly display zero as their total equity value, as if they had suffered a total loss or been hacked and had their funds siphoned off. This came just after a breakneck rise in the entire crypto market in the first half of the day. The panic selling triggered by such an unnerving news item led to mass liquidations across crypto exchanges, wiping out $800 million in leveraged positions.

"Sometimes you have to unload excess passengers," Helga said to herself, objectively assessing the situation.

The sudden price drop was thus caused by a mere bug and affected all cryptocurrencies at the same time. Shortly afterwards, prices began to recover and would recover to their previous levels by evening.

She decided to increase Alfred's long position in TON by $50,000 to lower the average purchase price. In the last few days Helga herself had delved into TON and was interested in adding it to their crypto portfolio. She wanted to raise the subject with Alfred after work and decide on the amount they should allocate.

Fifteen minutes later the paramedics arrived. Helga quickly handed her soundly sleeping husband in the care of the paramedics, who rushed him to the hospital. She followed the ambulance in her red Ford Mustang.

Helga stayed with Alfred in the hospital. She asked her mother to pick up Imke from the after-school care center and keep the girl with her overnight. In a calm voice, she explained that her husband had a minor accident, but kept other details to herself: she preferred to spare her easily worried mother those.

The next morning Alfred woke up visibly refreshed. When he saw Helga sitting at the chair next to his hospital bed, he smiled tiredly at her. She returned his smile and pushed a strand of hair out of his face.

"You're a fool," she said softly. "Why don't you take your medication? You know what can happen."

Alfred's heart was pounding like a jackhammer. It's unbelievable that Helga didn't suspect anything. Didn't she know what he had done? Panic started to rise within him again. He couldn't escape confessing everything to her.

"Helga, I..." he struggled for words. "I... destroyed our family savings."

Helga looked at him with a worried smile. "Alfred, I know what happened. It's not all that bad."

"You know?" Alfred's brow furrowed. "And you don't want to kill me right now?"

“It was just a bug at Coinbase,” Helga explained calmly. "Customers' account balances were displayed incorrectly. This led to panic selling and liquidations that sent prices plummeting. But don't worry, nothing is lost. We have enough margin. The error has been fixed and prices have already recovered."

He stood there speechless, words failing him. On his emotional rollercoaster he had lost all touch with reality and didn't even attempt to grasp what was really going on, didn't have the capacity to grasp.

"Our TON position is no longer underwater," Helga said calmly. "Of course you should have discussed it with me instead of chasing the price. TON has recovered since then and keeps on rising", added she reassuringly.

"By the way, I've been thinking about a trip to Canada. We'll leave Imke with grandma. What do you think of that? Of course you'll have to recover fully first."

"But... I... you...our position?" Alfred stammered, visibly at a loss, touched by Helga's words. “Was it possible that this financial catastrophe, his ominous gamble could have been averted?” he wondered, still in disbelief, as the weight of his blunder still rested on his shoulders.

Helga fixed Alfred with a stern look. "Alfred, look at me!" she said firmly. "YYou lost control because you didn't take your antipsychotic medication this morning. This led to a manic episode where you became overexcited. The realization of your mistake plunged you into deep despair and led to suicidal thoughts. These are all chemical reactions in your brain that become uncontrollable without the help of medication. But now it's all over. You are alive, and our capital is well invested."

“I have a week’s vacation at the end of March. We fly to Ville de Quebec and stay at the Fairmont Chateau Frontenac if it's not fully booked. “You always raved so much about this city,” Helga continued uninterrupted.

“Do you forgive me?” Alfred asked hesitantly.

“If you promise me never to forget to take your medication again, I’ll forgive you everything,” said Helga, looking at him in a mock-stern manner.

“I’ll do anything for you,” Alfred promised her, his eyes streaming with tears of love. Helga leaned over him and blew a kiss on his lips.

It was February 29th. The weather was noticeably warmer than yesterday and the sun shone through the hospital window. Despite his pale complexion and dark circles under his eyes, Alfred was the happiest man in the world on that last February morning.