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“Best price, best price!” He said it so often, the ridges inside his mouth had become red and sore as he rolled the “r” in “price.” But it was a living. #CounterfeitGerbil had put his two gerblits through college on the back of knock-off plastic balls and exercise wheels. They looked like the real deal, but would inevitably fall apart after a few uses, shortly after his tourist victims had flown home, so he never had to deal with their complaints... but something had changed lately. Business was slowing down. It seemed like fewer and fewer gerbils wanted his products. The customers he did see in the night market would pull out their phones as they shopped, but he wasn’t sure what they were doing with them, exactly. He’d shout, “no photo, no photo!” The newspaper came in the mornings, but #counterfeitgerbil would never read it before he shredded it with his sharp, yellow teeth and added it to his bed. If he had, he would’ve realized that his prospective customers had wised up. Quality products were now embedded with chips that could be scanned. If the product was authentic, it would show up on the blockchain. Since then, knock-off products were no longer in demand. Three weeks later, as he stood behind his booth at the market with a frown on his face, the cops rolled in. It was a crackdown. They cuffed his little hands and took him away. “This is bullshit,” he shouted. “Bullshit!” The earth turned and the sun rose, over a smoggy, humid cityscape. Another block was found, another transaction recorded for all eternity. The world had moved on without him; #CounterfeitGerbil had traded his cage… for a cell.
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“Best price, best price!” He said it so often, the ridges inside his mouth had become red and sore as he rolled the “r” in “price.” But it was a living. #CounterfeitGerbil had put his two gerblits through college on the back of knock-off plastic balls and exercise wheels. They looked like the real deal, but would inevitably fall apart after a few uses, shortly after his tourist victims had flown home, so he never had to deal with their complaints... but something had changed lately. Business was slowing down. It seemed like fewer and fewer gerbils wanted his products. The customers he did see in the night market would pull out their phones as they shopped, but he wasn’t sure what they were doing with them, exactly. He’d shout, “no photo, no photo!” The newspaper came in the mornings, but #counterfeitgerbil would never read it before he shredded it with his sharp, yellow teeth and added it to his bed. If he had, he would’ve realized that his prospective customers had wised up. Quality products were now embedded with chips that could be scanned. If the product was authentic, it would show up on the blockchain. Since then, knock-off products were no longer in demand. Three weeks later, as he stood behind his booth at the market with a frown on his face, the cops rolled in. It was a crackdown. They cuffed his little hands and took him away. “This is bullshit,” he shouted. “Bullshit!” The earth turned and the sun rose, over a smoggy, humid cityscape. Another block was found, another transaction recorded for all eternity. The world had moved on without him; #CounterfeitGerbil had traded his cage… for a cell.
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