A distributed ledger, the locals explain, records every transaction permanently, so that no single creature may ever rewrite the past. At 01:15 local time, thieves extracted approximately 7,000 bitcoins, valued near 41 million units of American currency, from the exchange Binance. Within days, the company announced it had secured 90 percent of the stolen sum. The assembled account holders responded to the announcement of an editability clause with sustained applause, several rising from chairs they had been sitting in for the specific purpose of watching money disappear.

Our observation began at minute four of the chief executive's video address and concluded at minute twenty-three. During this interval the address contained eleven uses of the word "community," three of "trust," and one disclosure that a portion of the theft might be recovered by reorganizing the blockchain itself, a procedure comparable to repaving a road so that Tuesday contains less Tuesday. At minute nine, the viewing thread produced its fourth expression of gratitude toward the man holding the undo button. By minute nineteen, users who had lost nothing at all had begun submitting reimbursement requests anyway, filing what the platform designates Form R-1, "Historical Event Participation," citing amounts they estimated from memory.

"We spent seven years building a system where nobody has to trust anybody," a local software engineer told us, stirring a beverage. "Now we just trust one executive very intensely. It is actually simpler." A nearby account holder described the feeling as "relief," and confirmed she had joined the waiting list of users queuing to be reimbursed from a reserve fund, skimmed from every trade, which exists precisely because the unbreakable system keeps breaking. Neither of them looked up during this exchange. The beverage required attention.

The company's stated purpose is to prevent theft. Its remedy for theft was to demonstrate, publicly, that theft can be administratively unwound by whoever holds the keys. The holders reacted by increasing their deposits. By week's end, Binance reported record user registrations. One new registrant, asked why she had chosen this moment to join, said: "I want to be inside the vault before something happens to it again. Whatever that means."

We attempted to reconcile these figures and could not, and note only that the ledger still contains every transaction ever made upon it, permanent and incorruptible, arranged exactly as a small number of consenting parties have agreed to remember them. Our colony census, conducted the same evening, counted 6,214 account holders asleep, none of whom were consulted about being counted. The count stands. So, it turns out, does everything else, pending review.