Chronopunk: A novel (Episode 15)
If you went back in time, what knowledge would you gift the past to save the future?
Chapter 43
Court 2009
"How can you be so sure about what's best for future generations? How do you know what they'll want? Isn't that a bit presumptuous, Mr. Massraoui?" Jeff Swayne, the Fed’s lead defense attorney, locks eyes with Mody.
"Objection. Character judgment," Deborah cuts in.
"Sustained. Mr. Swayne, you're not a psychiatrist, and this isn't your therapy session. Stick to the facts and leave the psychological profiling to someone else." Swayne nods to the judge, then turns back to Mody.
"Alright, Mr. Massraoui. Mind if I call you Mody?"
Mody nods.
"Thanks. So, Mody, how can you be so sure about what's best for future generations?"
Mody’s gaze is stern as he leans forward.
"That's the wrong question. What I'm saying is, if you borrow money in my name and mortgage my future, you're essentially expropriating me. That’s wrong. I want you to stop. It’s that simple. We don’t need a philosophical debate about what’s good—or worse, how to determine what’s good. That’s irrelevant, Mr. Swayne."
"Expropriation is a pretty strong word, Mody," Swayne says, wearing his signature patronizing smirk.
Since making partner at Fitzgerald, Ingolson, Swayne & Thomson, Jeff Swayne has played a key role in propelling the firm into the upper ranks of corporate America. Whether the case involves environmental damage, financial misconduct, or other white-collar crimes, FIST is the go-to for defense. Swayne is the firm’s bulldog—the guy you call when you need muscle, not legal finesse.
Jeff Swayne grew up in a Boston suburb and is often compared to Matt Damon’s character in Good Will Hunting.
“Just add a few more arrests and misdemeanors to his résumé,” a friend once quipped.
Swayne’s path led from odd construction jobs and night classes at a local junior college to law school at Boston University, where he graduated with distinction. His sharp wit and natural persuasion quickly made him one of the most sought-after defense attorneys in the field.
‘It takes one to defend one,’ he once joked to reporters—referring to his not-so-subtle suggestion that the best defense lawyers had, at some point, been criminals themselves.
Before becoming a lawyer, Swayne had a few run-ins with the police, resulting in three arrests. These minor incidents didn’t stop him from gaining admission to the Massachusetts bar. He began his legal career defending petty criminals from his old Boston neighborhoods, where his knack for persuading juries to rethink even the most clear-cut cases quickly earned him a reputation. It wasn’t long before he caught the attention of the Boston mob. One of his early career highlights was the successful defense of a crime boss facing racketeering and conspiracy to commit murder charges.
As Swayne’s reputation grew, he transitioned from defending organized crime to representing high finance—though, in his words, the line between the two was purely imaginary.
“In principle, they’re the same thing. Whether you’re defending the Mafia or Wall Street, it makes little difference. Both are organized around the same goal: extracting money from society. Both systems are built on layers of intermediaries that obscure the flow of money and decision-making, making it nearly impossible to trace their criminal activity,” Swayne once told a New York Times reporter.
The headline read: “Successful Boston Defense Lawyer Compares Wall Street with Mafia.”
The story caused a stir and nearly got Swayne disbarred. But true to form, he didn’t back down. Instead, he doubled down in a fiery rebuttal to a prominent Wall Street lobbyist:
"And quite frankly, I don’t care who you are—or whether you wear Italian suits, suspenders, or Wall Street pinstripes. To me, you’re just a figure. A number. And when that number is high enough, I fight for you. That’s it. Oh, and let me add this: I apologize to absolutely nobody. If you have a problem with me defending certain people, then sue me. I’ll see you in court.’
Swayne first encountered Deborah Fidler in court while defending a hedge fund manager accused of fraud and market manipulation. Fidler was representing the plaintiffs. Their confrontation was like combining matter with antimatter—the most efficient release of energy known to physicists.
"You couldn’t make this up. The Boston bulldog versus the Chicago-trained superwoman," a prominent talk show host remarked about their courtroom clash.
"As different as they are, they share one thing in common: both come from unusual backgrounds. He’s the former thug turned defense lawyer, and she’s the underground DJ turned justice warrior."
Chapter 44
Court 2009
“Expropriation. Let’s linger on that word for a moment. It’s a strong statement, isn’t it?” Swayne glances toward Bernanke, seated at the defense table. Then, turning back to Mody; “Can you clarify exactly how the defendant is expropriating from future generations?”
Swayne pauses, then strides toward the stand, locking eyes with Mody, who stares back. Swayne’s voice turns sharp, almost menacing.
"Mr. Bernanke, an appointed official, had a mandate to prevent the collapse of our financial system. He wielded the tools at his disposal—tools meant to stabilize the economy. Yet you accuse him of robbing future generations?"
Swayne leans in, his tone steady but laced with incredulity.
"That’s a bold claim… a bold claim." He lets the words linger, the silence heavy, before pressing forward.
"Frankly, Mody, I find your accusation offensive. You should be thanking my client, not vilifying him."
"Objection!"
"Sustained," the judge rules. "Mr. Swayne, refrain from personal remarks about the witness."
"My apologies, Your Honor." Swayne nods briefly, then turns, locking eyes with the jury, his gaze deliberate.
"How, exactly, is Mr. Bernanke 'stealing'? He goes to work daily, overseeing the world’s most critical central bank. Then, one morning, the markets crash. He faces a choice: let the economy collapse or act decisively. What’s he supposed to do?" Swayne pauses, his eyes scanning the jury, as if expecting an answer.
"What should he have done?" He pauses again, letting the question linger.
"Let me tell you what he should have done. He should have fulfilled the mandate President Bush appointed him to carry out: ensure a stable financial system. Why does that matter? Do we need banks? Payment systems? An economy? Last I checked, we do. So Mr. Bernanke did his job—he stepped in to save the economy from collapse."
"Objection!"
"Overruled. Continue."
"Thank you, Your Honor." Swayne, energized, presses forward.
"Here’s the crux of it: What is Wall Street really for? Why do we need banks? They keep the financial system running, channeling money from savers to investors, entrepreneurs, and corporations. That’s what drives our economy—that’s what creates jobs. Yes, banks sometimes falter, triggering financial crises. But that’s precisely why the Federal Reserve was established: to serve as a safeguard against those crises." Swayne strides to his desk, stopping directly in front of Bernanke.
"Imagine we do nothing—let the system collapse. Banks shutter, credit dries up, people lose access to their money. You can picture the fallout: chaos, riots, looting, or worse. That’s what happens when a free-market economy runs dry. Mr. Bernanke’s job is to prevent exactly that catastrophe. Now, we can debate his methods—buying bonds, bailing out banks, whatever. That’s not the point today. We’re here because Mr. Massaroui claims the Fed is stealing from future generations."
Swayne sweeps his right arm across the room.
"But how would those future generations judge us—everyone here, every citizen—if we let Wall Street and the economy implode? They’d call us negligent, reckless even. You can’t have it both ways. You can’t demand protection while insisting we spend nothing. It doesn’t work that way. People like Ben Bernanke are the backbone of our society. We pay them modestly, yet expect them to shoulder the burden of keeping our system intact. And when their decisions don’t align with our views, we accuse them of theft? That’s not just unfair—it’s unjust."
"Objection!"
"Sustained," the judge snaps. "Mr. Swayne, this is a court of law, not a debate club. The jury decides judgment, not counsel. This is your final warning—I won’t hesitate to hold you in contempt."
"My apologies, Your Honor." Swayne nods, then presses on.
"Our financial system rests on two pillars: trust and liquidity. The Federal Reserve exists to protect both. Sometimes, extraordinary measures are necessary to preserve them. When Lehman Brothers collapsed last year, it triggered a global financial freeze. To shield Wall Street banks from panicked depositors—and, frankly, from other institutions—Mr. Bernanke chose to purchase bonds. A run on banks like JPMorgan or Citigroup could have crippled the entire economy."
"Objection!"
"Overruled."
"Alright, let me pick up where I left off. My client, Mr. Bernanke, arrives at work one morning to find bank CEOs calling, frantic—they can’t meet obligations because other banks no longer trust them. Meanwhile, those same CEOs refuse to deal with each other. Why? Trust has evaporated. At its core, banking hinges on reciprocity: no trust, no cooperation. Simple as that. Now, you might ask, what’s the Fed’s role here? In one sense, nothing—it doesn’t mediate bank disputes. But in a larger sense, everything. The Fed’s primary duty is to safeguard the stability of our entire financial system. That’s not a side task; it’s the mission."
"Empathy means understanding and sharing another’s emotions. I ask you, the jury, to summon that empathy—or at least try. Imagine yourself in Mr. Bernanke’s shoes that morning, facing a brutal choice: do nothing and let Wall Street collapse, or act decisively. What would you have done? Or, to frame it in the context of this case, what should he have done to protect the well-being of future generations?"
Swayne pauses, studying the jury as his words take hold. His instincts sense a shift—they’re starting to see his point. He lingers in the silence, letting it deepen, allowing the realization to settle: his client made the right call.
"Now, I understand. Spending billions to bail out Wall Street banks looks terrible. I get it—those high-flying bankers with their penthouse suites and lavish lifestyles." Swayne grimaces, his arms gesturing broadly to underscore the excess.
"I’m no fan of this either, and I’d wager Mr. Bernanke isn’t thrilled about it. No one wants wealthy bankers profiting while hardworking taxpayers foot the bill." Swayne pauses, then strides to Mody, locking eyes, the room thick with the weight of his words.
"I share your frustration, believe me. But as Judge Baker just reminded me, this isn’t a debate—it’s a court of law. The question isn’t whether my client’s actions were fair or moral. It’s whether he did his job to avert a financial catastrophe—or broke the law. That’s the sole issue before us." He turns to the jury, letting the point hang in the air.
"Mody and his counsel allege that Mr. Bernanke violated the Fifth Amendment of the U.S. Constitution—a grave accusation. The Constitution is sacrosanct, a timeless blueprint for liberty that has fueled unprecedented prosperity and lifted millions from poverty. It has opened doors for countless individuals to pursue the American Dream. No one should defy it."
"Objection!"
"Sustained. Mr. Swayne," the judge cuts in, "focus on the issue. We’re here to determine whether your client violated the Constitution, not to extol its virtues."
"Understood, Your Honor. Context is critical to understanding my client’s actions. Protecting liberty is the duty of every public servant, from Washington to every state and municipal capital. I submit that’s precisely what Mr. Bernanke did. By deploying funds to stabilize our financial system, he preserved our economy and, by extension, our way of life. The 2008 financial crisis threatened devastation on a massive scale. Without Mr. Bernanke’s intervention, our nation could have unraveled. I’m not here to debate the efficiency of his methods or the success of quantitative easing—that’s irrelevant today. Our sole question is whether Mr. Bernanke acted within the U.S. Constitution or, as the plaintiff, Mody, alleges, ‘stole’ from future generations. After weighing the evidence, I assert that Mr. Bernanke not only operated within his mandate and the Constitution but also demonstrated extraordinary resolve. Facing unprecedented danger, urgency, and opposition, he acted swiftly and decisively. I commend his leadership and urge you to do the same." Swayne pauses, surveys the courtroom, then returns to his seat beside Bernanke.
Chapter 45
2009
“We’ll take this to the Supreme Court. This isn’t over. That bulldog Swayne won’t get the last word.” Debbie, sitting beside Mody in a dimly lit Tribeca bar, sips her tequila, her voice sharp with defiance. “He’s a skilled lawyer—damn near unstoppable when the stakes are high. The bigger the crime, the sharper he gets. No wonder he got Bernanke off.”
Her professional pride stings. Losing to Swayne is bitter enough, but losing a case that seemed like a formality on paper cuts deeper.
“This bulldog,” she spits. The bartender shoots her a menacing look, and Mody apologizes on her behalf.
“Pig. Boston pig. I hate him.”
“Listen, anger isn’t going to help here. Why don’t we focus on what’s ahead of us?” Mody reaches for her hand, hoping to calm her down.
“This pig turned the jury around with what… a sentence or two? That’s all it takes? A few words, and all our efforts to stop this country from sinking into the swamp of government corruption are for nothing.”
“A mafia lawyer? Scheisse!”
Mody knows all too well how upset Debbie must be—she only uses German swear words when her adrenaline is at its boiling point.
“You can’t anger your way out of this. Stay calm, and let’s focus on the Supreme Court appeal. That’s our job—not swearing, not even in German.”
Debbie looks at him, hugs him, kisses him, then finishes her tequila.
Mody feels weighed down. As frustrated as Debbie is by the loss, he’s grappling with a much bigger dilemma. Losing the court case means he’ll have to go with plan B. He can’t rely on the judicial system to save his generation. Debbie’s right—it’s absurd that a lawyer, even a good one like Jeff Swayne, can block something that could potentially save future societies from financial collapse and political turmoil. But that’s exactly the situation he’s in. Yes, there’s the Supreme Court appeal, but he can’t count on that. He must move forward with plan B—the launch of Bitcoin.
And he knows all too well what that entails. He must reveal his true origins, which means he won’t be able to return to his time. This is a once-in-a-lifetime decision—not just his, but one of cosmological significance. Never before has a conscious, living being been faced with a choice of this magnitude: to stay and live in a time before his actual birth or return to his true time. He’s spent countless nights discussing this with Lisa—the implications for the project, and, of course, what it would mean for their relationship.
But there seems to be no alternative. He must move forward. Bitcoin is the only true solution to the problems of overspending, government corruption, deep state overreach, legal warfare, and the increasing violence of the state against its citizens.
‘He who controls the money controls the people,’ Mody told Lisa the night before he left. They lay naked in bed, having made love multiple times. Both knew it could very well have been the last time their bodies touched. They knew. They suspected. But they didn’t fear. Neither Mody nor Lisa were afraid of what was coming. The mission was too important to waste time on fear. Mody kissed Lisa, then turned onto his back, stared up at the ceiling, and spoke softly:
“If I went back in time, what knowledge would I take with me?”
“I think you already know the answer to that,” Lisa smiled and turned her cheek toward Mody.
“How so?” he asked.
“Well, the only knowledge worth preserving for any generation—past, present, or future—is the ability to keep creating knowledge. Right?”
“Okay. And…?”
“Well, knowledge creation is based on freedom. Controlling money is a subtle way to deprive people of their freedom. So, logically, freedom is preserved when money can’t be controlled. And that’s exactly what Bitcoin is here to achieve. So, you’ll bring this knowledge back in time.”
“Wisely said. That’s what I’ll do—bring sound money to the world.”
Mody turned his back, facing Lisa.
“If I end up staying, you’ll raise Cy alone. You’ll tell him what I did. He’ll be angry. Maybe not. I don’t care. But he must know where his father went and why. You choose the moment to tell him. I trust you. But you must tell him.”
He pauses.
“And there’s one more thing. Nobody can ever know about our project. It would cost you your job—and probably much more. You’ll have to act like a surprised, pissed-off boss and a heartbroken wife. If I decide to stay and abandon the mission, you’ll put on an act of hysteria. Then, years later, you can tell Cy. Hopefully by then, emotions in Washington and the Pentagon will have calmed down, and you can tell him safely. But you must promise me—nobody else can ever know that his father stayed behind in time to launch Bitcoin.”
Lisa nods, then kisses him.
They make love one last time.
Mody nods.
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