๐ด TROUBLE IN COAST GROVE
Police are losing control of the district
A unit rolled into Coast Grove this morning โ just a routine patrol check. By midday, there was nothing "routine" left.
A car burning at the entrance, storefronts smashed in, streets barricaded. Residents poured out and refuse to go home, while the cops crouch behind the hoods of their cruisers.
The active phase is over. But it ended strangely. The police aren't trying to enter the district anymore. At all. The cars have pulled out, patrols circle the "perimeter," and the precinct won't comment.
Coast Grove is looking more and more like a state within a state. And this state has its own president.
Everyone we spoke to on the streets repeats the same name โ Caesar. Around here, everybody knows him. This is where he grew up, this is where he's respected. And judging by today, nobody else is needed to keep order here.
Coast Grove plays by its own rules now. And when something happens in the district โ nobody dials 911.
We'll keep you posted.
Police are losing control of the district
A unit rolled into Coast Grove this morning โ just a routine patrol check. By midday, there was nothing "routine" left.
A car burning at the entrance, storefronts smashed in, streets barricaded. Residents poured out and refuse to go home, while the cops crouch behind the hoods of their cruisers.
The active phase is over. But it ended strangely. The police aren't trying to enter the district anymore. At all. The cars have pulled out, patrols circle the "perimeter," and the precinct won't comment.
Coast Grove is looking more and more like a state within a state. And this state has its own president.
Everyone we spoke to on the streets repeats the same name โ Caesar. Around here, everybody knows him. This is where he grew up, this is where he's respected. And judging by today, nobody else is needed to keep order here.
Coast Grove plays by its own rules now. And when something happens in the district โ nobody dials 911.
We'll keep you posted.
๐50๐ฅ9โค8๐7๐ซก2๐1๐ป1
๐ AETHER IO LANDS 90% OF THE CITY'S CONSTRUCTION CONTRACTS
Nine out of ten building tenders this past quarter went to a single player. Analysts say it's the first time anything like this has happened.
On paper, it's all clean. Bids filed on time, competitive pricing, paperwork in order. There's nothing to pin on AETHER IO. Off the record, competitors are calling it "impossible."
Three mid-sized developers who lost three tenders in a row to AETHER IO have all declared bankruptcy in the past month. Coincidence? Maybe. But the coincidences are starting to pile up suspiciously fast.
Then there's the question of what's actually been built. On the books: dozens of projects completed and paid for. At the addresses: empty lots, half-finished shells, sometimes nothing at all. The corporation's response is that "construction is proceeding on schedule."
Behind all of it, one name. Zoe Kashin. CEO, 28. Gives no interviews, makes no appearances, issues no statements. Little is known about her. Everything is known about her results.
AETHER IO doesn't build for the city anymore. AETHER IO is the city.
We'll keep you posted.
Nine out of ten building tenders this past quarter went to a single player. Analysts say it's the first time anything like this has happened.
On paper, it's all clean. Bids filed on time, competitive pricing, paperwork in order. There's nothing to pin on AETHER IO. Off the record, competitors are calling it "impossible."
Three mid-sized developers who lost three tenders in a row to AETHER IO have all declared bankruptcy in the past month. Coincidence? Maybe. But the coincidences are starting to pile up suspiciously fast.
Then there's the question of what's actually been built. On the books: dozens of projects completed and paid for. At the addresses: empty lots, half-finished shells, sometimes nothing at all. The corporation's response is that "construction is proceeding on schedule."
Behind all of it, one name. Zoe Kashin. CEO, 28. Gives no interviews, makes no appearances, issues no statements. Little is known about her. Everything is known about her results.
AETHER IO doesn't build for the city anymore. AETHER IO is the city.
We'll keep you posted.
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๐ฉบ "THEY REMEMBER NOTHING, BUT THEY KNOW EVERYTHING"
What's going on inside the Sim-Genetics clinic?
Over the past month, the city has logged a hundred and twenty-three cases in which successful, well-off residents suddenly walk away from their jobs, sign their assets over to trustees, and move into a small building on the outskirts. Every one of them has the same clinic in their medical file. All of them โ patients of Sim-Genetics.
Relatives are sounding the alarm. Lawyers are throwing up their hands. It was all done voluntarily, of sound mind, the paperwork flawless. The police have opened an inquiry. So far they haven't gotten to the bottom of it. The few who've managed a brief word with the "patients" all report roughly the same thing. They talk normally, but they're eerily calm. They claim they've finally "seen the system" and "realized it's all a simulation." What the "system" is, none of them will say.
Behind the clinic stands a coalition of scientists. They call it a research project for the "universal liberation from the chains of the simulation." Outsiders call it a cult. On paper, Sim-Genetics studies "the nature of how we perceive reality." In practice, their following keeps growing โ along with funding that nobody has really been able to trace.
One man runs the project. Dr. Pyotr Dovlatov. A former neurophysiologist. We haven't been able to reach him yet, and he speaks only with those who come to him on their own. After those conversations, by all accounts, no one walks away the same.
The doctor doesn't heal anymore. The doctor reflashes.
We'll keep you posted.
What's going on inside the Sim-Genetics clinic?
Over the past month, the city has logged a hundred and twenty-three cases in which successful, well-off residents suddenly walk away from their jobs, sign their assets over to trustees, and move into a small building on the outskirts. Every one of them has the same clinic in their medical file. All of them โ patients of Sim-Genetics.
Relatives are sounding the alarm. Lawyers are throwing up their hands. It was all done voluntarily, of sound mind, the paperwork flawless. The police have opened an inquiry. So far they haven't gotten to the bottom of it. The few who've managed a brief word with the "patients" all report roughly the same thing. They talk normally, but they're eerily calm. They claim they've finally "seen the system" and "realized it's all a simulation." What the "system" is, none of them will say.
Behind the clinic stands a coalition of scientists. They call it a research project for the "universal liberation from the chains of the simulation." Outsiders call it a cult. On paper, Sim-Genetics studies "the nature of how we perceive reality." In practice, their following keeps growing โ along with funding that nobody has really been able to trace.
One man runs the project. Dr. Pyotr Dovlatov. A former neurophysiologist. We haven't been able to reach him yet, and he speaks only with those who come to him on their own. After those conversations, by all accounts, no one walks away the same.
The doctor doesn't heal anymore. The doctor reflashes.
We'll keep you posted.
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๐ฎ Fortune Teller
Velvet curtain, candle smoke, cards on the table. Look deep enough into the crystal ball and it looks back. Every tarot card is an answer, the question is whether you want to hear it. Purple sand in the hourglass shows how little time is left. In Miami even destiny has a price.
The final collection of the season. "Fortune Teller" is live.
โ Chat | โ YT | ๐ฌ X
Velvet curtain, candle smoke, cards on the table. Look deep enough into the crystal ball and it looks back. Every tarot card is an answer, the question is whether you want to hear it. Purple sand in the hourglass shows how little time is left. In Miami even destiny has a price.
The final collection of the season. "Fortune Teller" is live.
Please open Telegram to view this post
VIEW IN TELEGRAM
๐52โค27
๐ BIG CHANGES ARE COMING TO THE CITY
Four broadcasts today. Each one its own story. The Esparza mansion. Coast Grove. AETHER IO. Sim-Genetics.
Lay them side by side, and it becomes obvious: these aren't four stories. They're one.
The city is being carved up. Four powers, four districts, four leaders. And not one of them intends to back down. Starting tomorrow, we dig deeper โ who they are, what drives them, and how much weight each one carries in a city that's still, for now, ours.
Today you saw the four of them. This week, you'll come to know them.
Four broadcasts today. Each one its own story. The Esparza mansion. Coast Grove. AETHER IO. Sim-Genetics.
Lay them side by side, and it becomes obvious: these aren't four stories. They're one.
The city is being carved up. Four powers, four districts, four leaders. And not one of them intends to back down. Starting tomorrow, we dig deeper โ who they are, what drives them, and how much weight each one carries in a city that's still, for now, ours.
Today you saw the four of them. This week, you'll come to know them.
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๐ THE ESPARZA CASE
Evening. The precinct. Four files on the desk, untouched for years. Esparza. Coast Grove. AETHER IO. Sim-Genetics.
"You think the clan's back? Without the Bear they all scattered. So why set the long table now?"
His partner thumbs through the reports.
"Sons dead or locked up. Eldest daughter married off long ago. That leaves one."
"Don't tell me... Lucรญa?"
A Polaroid. The Cรดte d'Azur, 1998. A little girl holding her mother's hands. Less than a year before the mother vanished.
"Every monster was a child once."
โธป
A knock. An envelope sealed with wax. Photos from last night's gathering.
The long table. Candles. A fur wrap. Dark eyes straight into the lens โ like she wanted to be seen.
"Other people's kids grow up fast," the detective says, pinning the photo to the board. "We've got a new queen."
His partner runs a finger along the red thread from Lucรญa to her father.
"She's spent her whole life getting ready for this. And there are others, you know. With plenty of their own to fight over."
In the mansion up on Velvet Hills, someone pours a second glass.
Evening. The precinct. Four files on the desk, untouched for years. Esparza. Coast Grove. AETHER IO. Sim-Genetics.
"You think the clan's back? Without the Bear they all scattered. So why set the long table now?"
His partner thumbs through the reports.
"Sons dead or locked up. Eldest daughter married off long ago. That leaves one."
"Don't tell me... Lucรญa?"
A Polaroid. The Cรดte d'Azur, 1998. A little girl holding her mother's hands. Less than a year before the mother vanished.
"Every monster was a child once."
โธป
A knock. An envelope sealed with wax. Photos from last night's gathering.
The long table. Candles. A fur wrap. Dark eyes straight into the lens โ like she wanted to be seen.
"Other people's kids grow up fast," the detective says, pinning the photo to the board. "We've got a new queen."
His partner runs a finger along the red thread from Lucรญa to her father.
"She's spent her whole life getting ready for this. And there are others, you know. With plenty of their own to fight over."
In the mansion up on Velvet Hills, someone pours a second glass.
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๐ค "Papa taught me two things..."
My name is Lucรญa Esparza. I'm the youngest daughter of Lorenzo "the Bear" Esparza, and I've taken up what he left behind โ to make it grow.
Men ran this clan for a long time, and now, among the contenders for my father's place, not one is left. So I'm taking the power into my own hands.
Papa taught me two things. The first โ never raise your voice. The second โ what happens when I raise it anyway.
I don't care for loud people. I don't care for cheap luxury. I don't care for hypocrisy. I love long evenings, long silences, and those who are in no hurry to answer.
I stand above most of the men in this city. Sometimes figuratively. More often, literally.
It won't be loud with me. It will be right. Family first โ and family's word is law โ then respect.
Dinner is at eight. We don't wait for those who are late.
โ Lucรญa Esparza
My name is Lucรญa Esparza. I'm the youngest daughter of Lorenzo "the Bear" Esparza, and I've taken up what he left behind โ to make it grow.
Men ran this clan for a long time, and now, among the contenders for my father's place, not one is left. So I'm taking the power into my own hands.
Papa taught me two things. The first โ never raise your voice. The second โ what happens when I raise it anyway.
I don't care for loud people. I don't care for cheap luxury. I don't care for hypocrisy. I love long evenings, long silences, and those who are in no hurry to answer.
I stand above most of the men in this city. Sometimes figuratively. More often, literally.
It won't be loud with me. It will be right. Family first โ and family's word is law โ then respect.
Dinner is at eight. We don't wait for those who are late.
โ Lucรญa Esparza
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๐ TON turns 5!
Holders, the TON network is 5 years old today. Proud to be part of this ecosystem. Happy birthday, TON. The best is yet to come.
Holders, the TON network is 5 years old today. Proud to be part of this ecosystem. Happy birthday, TON. The best is yet to come.
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๐ COAST GROVE
Night. Rain drumming on the rooftops, the neon of the Corner Store bleeding into the wet asphalt. A car pulls up outside the shop on the corner. Four men. A near-routine call โ some punk kids figured they'd knock over a spot under their protection.
One of the four looks at the storefront longer than the rest. He remembers when he was one of those kids himself โ fifteen years ago, in this same neighborhood.
โธป
He was fourteen when his mother fell ill. The insurance ran out before the sickness did. He wanted to save her โ and he was ready to do anything.
That same night he talked his way into tagging along with the older boys. A warehouse in the next district over, after sacks of "unmarked goods." Getting in was easy enough, but they were spotted before long. The older ones bolted first. He didn't make it out in time.
When they took him down, he yanked out the kitchen knife he'd grabbed in a hurry the night before. A hopeless gesture โ one that only egged the warehouse men on.
They tied him up and sat him on a chair. Laid the knife in front of him, on a crate.
โธป
In the morning, a man came. Sat down across from him. Stayed silent a long while. Looked at him like he was deciding something the boy no longer had any part in.
Then he picked up the kitchen knife and snapped it apart with his bare hands. Pressed the handle back into the boy's palm. On his way out, he said just one thing: "Come find me, if you want to."
A package was already waiting at the boy's home. More money than the treatment even needed. They knew.
โธป
The car outside the Corner Store cuts its engine. The four step out into the rain. The one who lingered on the storefront adjusts the cord around his neck. On the cord โ a wooden handle with no blade, hanging beside a gold chain.
He walks in first.
Night. Rain drumming on the rooftops, the neon of the Corner Store bleeding into the wet asphalt. A car pulls up outside the shop on the corner. Four men. A near-routine call โ some punk kids figured they'd knock over a spot under their protection.
One of the four looks at the storefront longer than the rest. He remembers when he was one of those kids himself โ fifteen years ago, in this same neighborhood.
โธป
He was fourteen when his mother fell ill. The insurance ran out before the sickness did. He wanted to save her โ and he was ready to do anything.
That same night he talked his way into tagging along with the older boys. A warehouse in the next district over, after sacks of "unmarked goods." Getting in was easy enough, but they were spotted before long. The older ones bolted first. He didn't make it out in time.
When they took him down, he yanked out the kitchen knife he'd grabbed in a hurry the night before. A hopeless gesture โ one that only egged the warehouse men on.
They tied him up and sat him on a chair. Laid the knife in front of him, on a crate.
โธป
In the morning, a man came. Sat down across from him. Stayed silent a long while. Looked at him like he was deciding something the boy no longer had any part in.
Then he picked up the kitchen knife and snapped it apart with his bare hands. Pressed the handle back into the boy's palm. On his way out, he said just one thing: "Come find me, if you want to."
A package was already waiting at the boy's home. More money than the treatment even needed. They knew.
โธป
The car outside the Corner Store cuts its engine. The four step out into the rain. The one who lingered on the storefront adjusts the cord around his neck. On the cord โ a wooden handle with no blade, hanging beside a gold chain.
He walks in first.
๐28โค22โก5โคโ๐ฅ4๐ฑ4๐ฅ1
Add a unique object โ Big Deal House โ by playing a round of Minipoly.
Minipoly is a free game you can play right inside Telegram โ with friends or against the computer. Don't know the rules? No worries. The game is designed to feel intuitive whether you're a first-timer or a seasoned monopolist.
It's also a great excuse to get everyone together: invite your friends, jump into the in-game voice chat, and spend a relaxed evening doing what you do best โ wheeling and dealing, weighing your moves, and chatting through the game.
Create a room and bring in the people you've been meaning to play with.
โ Chat | โ YT | ๐ฌ X
Minipoly is a free game you can play right inside Telegram โ with friends or against the computer. Don't know the rules? No worries. The game is designed to feel intuitive whether you're a first-timer or a seasoned monopolist.
It's also a great excuse to get everyone together: invite your friends, jump into the in-game voice chat, and spend a relaxed evening doing what you do best โ wheeling and dealing, weighing your moves, and chatting through the game.
Create a room and bring in the people you've been meaning to play with.
Please open Telegram to view this post
VIEW IN TELEGRAM
1๐244โค52๐ฅ40๐12โคโ๐ฅ8๐4
๐ AETHER IO
Zoe Kashin's day begins at 5:47. Not 5:30, not six โ exactly the time she needs to be ready by six. Coffee that will go cold untouched. The treadmill by the window. The ring. She strikes clean and without anger โ like she's solving an equation. It's not that she has no fury. She just spends it on schedule.
โธป
At nine โ the board of AETHER IO, the corporation she built alone. A man older than her explains to her how the market works. She listens, nods. Then she answers in a way that leaves him two weeks to find a new use for his experience. No threats, no raised voice. She doesn't fight โ she just stops including people in the next email chain.
โธป
Lunch is always the same shabby cafรฉ on the outskirts. Alone. Across the street, a boarded-up store: CLOSED on the door, grass pushing up through the asphalt. A girl once stood behind that register, counting out other people's change. Now she counts a whole city. And the store everyone used to walk past without a glance โ she bought it out three years ago. And shut it down.
No one dares ask what she's thinking in those minutes.
โธป
Evenings โ the ghost construction sites behind AETHER IO's fences, the ones that made her insane money without rising a single floor. And dinners with the people who run this city: they wander into the web of her cold charm, never noticing they're signing the death warrants of their own careers.
โธป
Late at night, she stands at the window. The city burns below her.
Esparza clings to blood. Coast Grove to respect. Sim-Genetics to an idea. She clings to nothing. That's why it's easiest for her.
And she knows: she is the city.
Zoe Kashin's day begins at 5:47. Not 5:30, not six โ exactly the time she needs to be ready by six. Coffee that will go cold untouched. The treadmill by the window. The ring. She strikes clean and without anger โ like she's solving an equation. It's not that she has no fury. She just spends it on schedule.
โธป
At nine โ the board of AETHER IO, the corporation she built alone. A man older than her explains to her how the market works. She listens, nods. Then she answers in a way that leaves him two weeks to find a new use for his experience. No threats, no raised voice. She doesn't fight โ she just stops including people in the next email chain.
โธป
Lunch is always the same shabby cafรฉ on the outskirts. Alone. Across the street, a boarded-up store: CLOSED on the door, grass pushing up through the asphalt. A girl once stood behind that register, counting out other people's change. Now she counts a whole city. And the store everyone used to walk past without a glance โ she bought it out three years ago. And shut it down.
No one dares ask what she's thinking in those minutes.
โธป
Evenings โ the ghost construction sites behind AETHER IO's fences, the ones that made her insane money without rising a single floor. And dinners with the people who run this city: they wander into the web of her cold charm, never noticing they're signing the death warrants of their own careers.
โธป
Late at night, she stands at the window. The city burns below her.
Esparza clings to blood. Coast Grove to respect. Sim-Genetics to an idea. She clings to nothing. That's why it's easiest for her.
And she knows: she is the city.
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