If you ever want to feel like a secret agent, try mining cryptocurrency in 2009 while everyone else thinks you're playing Neopets.
After my late-night Google spiral about Bitcoin, I was convinced. This was my shot. My lottery ticket. My time-traveling golden goose. The only problem? I didn't even own a working laptop.
So I did what any broke, desperate 22-year-old would do—I sold my PlayStation 2, pawned my old sneakers, and accepted a tutoring gig helping a business major named Tyler understand what "compound interest" meant. (He didn't, by the way. Not even after three sessions.)
With the grand total of $50 to my name, I went hunting. Craigslist became my battlefield.
After dodging multiple "totally working" offers that came with cracked screens, missing batteries, or suspicious stains, I found it—a Dell Inspiron 1525, proudly described as "Runs Hot, But Runs." Honestly, that described me too.
The seller was a guy named Jeff, who looked like someone that definitely didn't pay taxes. We met behind a CVS. He showed me the laptop while chain-smoking and listing all the things "she still does good."
I didn't have the luxury of standards.
Back in my dorm, I powered her up. The fan screamed like a tiny jet engine. The keyboard was missing the N key, and the battery life was 14 minutes—if you didn't open any programs. But the Wi-Fi worked, and most importantly, it could run the early version of Bitcoin Core.
It took 36 hours to sync with the blockchain. During that time, the laptop grew so hot I had to set it on a bag of frozen peas and rotate it every three hours like a roasted chicken. I kept a fire extinguisher next to my desk—just in case.
I skipped classes, ignored texts, and lived on microwave burritos.
Then, at 2:43 AM on a Thursday night, it happened.
"Block Mined: 50 BTC."
I stared at the screen like I had just witnessed the birth of my first child.
It was just a string of numbers on a terminal window—but I knew what it meant. In 2009, 50 Bitcoin was worth around one cent. But in my timeline? It would one day be worth millions.
I leaned back in my chair, arms raised like I'd just won the Super Bowl. Then the laptop fan wheezed, choked, and the entire system crashed.
Welcome to crypto.
The next morning, my roommate Ryan walked in. He squinted at the smell of burnt plastic and broken dreams.
"Dude, did something die in here?" he said, lifting his shirt to cover his nose.
"My laptop," I said. "But it died for a noble cause."
He looked at the screen. "What's this? Bitcoin? That's the thing my econ professor called 'nerd Monopoly,' right?"
I nodded solemnly. "It's the future. One day, people will sell houses for this."
He laughed. "Sure, and I'm dating Beyoncé. Wanna split a Hot Pocket?"
But I wasn't done. I needed more computing power.
I remembered a dingy internet café just off campus. It smelled like cigarettes, Mountain Dew, and hopelessness. I walked in and approached the owner—a balding guy named Larry who looked like he hadn't smiled since Y2K.
"Hey, Larry," I began. "Quick question. Do your PCs sit idle at night?"
He eyed me. "Why?"
"I can make them work. Silently. You won't notice. And in a few years, you might be rich. Or… mildly better off."
He blinked. "You tryna install viruses on my machines, kid?"
"Nope. I'm trying to install the future."
He didn't believe a word I said. But he agreed, on one condition: I had to buy him a roast beef sandwich from Arby's twice a week.
Deal.
So every night from 11 PM to 6 AM, one of Larry's machines quietly mined Bitcoin while I sat nearby pretending to study. I even gave the rig a name: Crypto Boi.
After a week, my wallet showed 350 BTC. Still worthless. Still invisible.
But I had a rhythm now:
Mornings: Pretend I wasn't skipping every class.
Afternoons: Tutor Tyler, still confused about compound interest.
Evenings: Check my mining stats like a man checking stock prices in 1929.
Nights: Feed Larry his sandwich and Crypto Boi his electricity.
And in all of this, I began to feel something I hadn't felt in years.
Hope.
I wasn't just a broke college nobody anymore. I was building something. Quietly. Digitally. Invisibly. The world didn't know it yet, but I did.
I was no longer playing catch-up with life.
I was getting ahead of it.
Even if my laptop could still double as a space heater.