Chapter 33: The Crossover
Mid-September 2015
Michael uploaded 'White Iverson' on a Tuesday night. He did it just before going to bed, once his Ethereum investment was secured in his digital wallet. Releasing the song felt like the perfect closure to the most stressful week of his life. It was a celebration.
This time, he didn't go to sleep with anxiety. He fell asleep knowing he had a hit on his hands.
He woke up the next morning and the world already felt different. His phone, which had been relatively quiet since the peak of 'crybaby', was suffering a crisis. Twitter and Instagram notifications were arriving so fast the screen couldn't keep up.
'White Iverson' wasn't trickling. It was exploding.
The song was different. 'Ghost Boy' and 'crybaby' had been emotional impact grenades, attracting a specific tribe. 'White Iverson' was a melodic neutron bomb. It was undeniably catchy. It was a vibe.
But the real explosion happened that afternoon. Michael was at his new house, trying to do the algebra homework he had ignored for a week. His phone rang. It was Sam.
Michael answered, and couldn't even say "hello".
"DUDE! DUDE, DROP WHATEVER YOU'RE DOING AND CHECK YOUTUBE! NOW!" Sam shouted, his voice so high-pitched Michael had to pull the phone away from his ear.
"What? What's going on?" asked Michael.
"IT'S 'NEWWAVEFINDS'! THE 'NEWWAVEFINDS' CHANNEL! HE'S LISTENING TO YOUR SONG! LIVE!"
Michael's heart skipped a beat.
"NewWaveFinds" wasn't just any blog. It was the YouTube channel dedicated to listening to new artists. Its host, a music critic named "DJ Hex", was known for his impeccable taste and brutal honesty. He was the kingmaker of the underground. If Hex liked you, you were in. If he hated you, you were finished.
Michael hung up and ran to his MacBook. He opened YouTube. Hex's live stream was on the front page, with 20,000 live viewers.
He saw Hex's face on the screen. "Okay, chat, you guys are sending me this non-stop. 'Michael Demiurge'. I already heard his other stuff. The 'Sodium' video was great, very artistic. 'crybaby' was... intense. A lot of pain. Let's see what he brings now. It's called 'White Iverson'".
Hex hit play.
The watery and hazy beat began. Michael watched, holding his breath.
Hex raised an eyebrow. He didn't say anything. He just listened, his head nodding slowly to the rhythm.
And then, Michael's voice came in, covered by that perfect reverb and subtle Auto-Tune.
'Double OT... I'm a new three...'
'Saucin', saucin', I'm saucin' on you...'
Hex smiled. A genuine smile.
"Okay," Hex said into the mic, while the song kept playing in the background. "The beat is addictive. It's narcotic. I love it."
'I'm swaggin', I'm swaggin', I'm swaggin', oh-ooh...'
'I'm ballin', I'm ballin', Iverson on you...'
"And the vocals," continued Hex, "this is what has changed. Do you hear that? The production is clean. Professional. This isn't a sad boy in his closet. This kid knows exactly what he's doing. The use of Auto-Tune here isn't to cover up a bad voice, it's to create a texture. It's an instrument."
The live chat was going crazy.
'Started rockin' the sleeve, I can't ball with no Joes...'
'You know how I do it, Concords on my toes...'
"Ooh!" exclaimed Hex. "The references. Concords. He knows sneakers. And the flow is lazy, but with intention. It's the kind of song you play in the car at 2 a.m. driving down the highway."
'I ain't rich yet, but you know I ain't broke, I...'
'So, if I see it, I like it, buy that from the store, I...'
"It's the relaxed arrogance," said Hex. "He's not shouting about his money. He says it like it's a fact. I love that confidence."
Hex stayed silent during the chorus, simply enjoying it.
'White Iverson...'
'When I started ballin', I was young...'
'You gon' think about me when I'm gone...'
'I need that money like the ring I never won, I won...'
"That's the line," said Hex, pointing at the camera. "There's the sadness we know from him. 'The ring I never won'. It's poetic. It's melancholic, but it's an anthem. This, chat, this is a hit."
Hex listened to the rest of the song, nodding.
'Cigarettes and a headband...'
'Commas, commas in my head, man...'
'Slumped over like a dead man...'
'Red and black, 'bout my bread, man...'
"The lyrics are visual. 'Slumped over like a dead man'. It's great. It's catchy," said Hex.
'Bitch, I'm saucin' (wow), I do this often, don't do no talkin'...'
'My options right when I walk in, jump all them Jordans...'
'I'm ballin', money jumpin' like I'm Davis from New Orleans...'
'...Practice, this shit just happens, know y'all can't stand it...'
"'Practice, this shit just happens'!" repeated Hex, laughing. "What a line! It's arrogant, but he's right! This doesn't sound like an accident!"
The song reached its final chorus and faded into the watery synth outro.
The chat was exploding. "FIRE". "HIT OF THE YEAR".
Hex leaned back in his chair. "Okay. Official. Michael Demiurge is not a one-trick pony. He's not just a sad boy. He's not just an experimental VHS artist. He is a hitmaker. This song... this song is going to be huge. Mark my words."
Hex's video ended. And by the end of the day, that reaction clip had a million views.
On YouTube and SoundCloud, 'White Iverson' went from 100,000 plays to 3 million in 48 hours.
It was official. Michael Demiurge had crossed over to the mainstream.
Saturday, September 18, 2015
The explosion of 'White Iverson' changed things. The song didn't just go viral; it became an event.
That Saturday afternoon, Michael was in his new rented house. He had spent the morning answering an avalanche of emails from music blogs that wanted to interview him and record labels offering him ridiculous contracts. He deleted most of them.
Just when he was about to go into the studio to work on something new, the doorbell rang. He wasn't expecting anyone.
He opened the door to find Jake, who was grinning from ear to ear.
"Congratulations, you fucking rockstar!" shouted Jake.
Behind him were Leo, Sam, and Nate.
"Jake picked us up," said Leo, shrugging, but Michael could see a smile of pride on his face.
Jake appeared not only with his usual smile, but loaded down. He was carrying two pizza boxes stacked on one arm, a six-pack of beer in the other hand, and Sam was carrying a backpack Michael recognized as the "party bag".
"We have to celebrate, brother!" said Jake, walking in uninvited. He put the pizzas on the empty coffee table in the living room. Sam took the weed and his PS4 out of his backpack.
The atmosphere was celebratory. They sat on the living room floor, pizza boxes open.
"Dude," said Sam, mouth full of cheese, "you're everywhere! The 'NewWaveFinds' video has a million views! A million! People at school are losing their minds!"
"It's crazy," admitted Michael, taking a sip of beer. It felt good.
"I told you," said Jake, slapping him on the back. "I knew you were good. 'White Iverson' is a banger. I played it in my girlfriend's car and she didn't turn it off the whole ride."
"It's catchy," conceded Leo, who preferred 'Ghost Boy' but couldn't deny the success. "It's... commercial. But in a cool way. The production is clean. Much better than the trash on the radio."
Michael smiled. Validation from Leo, the purist, meant a lot.
They spent the next hour like that, eating pizza, drinking beer, and joking about Michael's new fame. Sam was fascinated, reading the comments on Hex's video out loud.
"This guy says you're the 'future of hip-hop'!" exclaimed Sam.
"Don't exaggerate, Sam," said Leo, rolling his eyes.
"I'm not exaggerating! It's right here!" said Sam, showing the phone.
The conversation was light, fun. Michael felt, for the first time, like a normal teenager celebrating a win. He had spent so long focused on the darkness and sadness that he had forgotten what it felt like to simply... succeed.
The pizza was almost gone and the atmosphere in Michael's living room was relaxed, filled with the buzz of beer and camaraderie. Sam and Leo were embroiled in an argument about whether the PS4 was really "Next Gen" or just a "PS3.5".
Michael, who had been listening quietly, saw his chance.
"Speaking of 'Next Gen'," he said casually, interrupting the argument.
Everyone turned to him.
"I've been looking into something," he continued, trying to sound as calm as possible. "Something I think I'm going to invest a little in."
"Invest?" laughed Jake. "Like what? More old guitars?"
"No," said Michael. "Something called cryptocurrency. Specifically, a platform called Ethereum."
The room went silent. Leo frowned. Sam looked confused.
"Crypto... what?" said Sam. "You mean Bitcoin? That thing people use on the deep web to buy drugs?"
"Something like that," said Michael. "But this is different. It's a new platform. More advanced."
The others were skeptical. Leo stopped drawing.
"Mike, with all due respect," said Leo, his tone cynical. "Magic internet money? Dude, that sounds like a pyramid scheme. It's smoke. It's not real."
"Sam, you're the tech guy," said Michael, changing tactics. "It's a platform for smart contracts. Decentralized applications. It's the next evolution of the internet."
Sam processed that. "Okay, the tech sounds cool, in theory. But as money... it's risky, dude. It's thin air."
Michael sighed. He understood. It was a crazy idea.
He tried to get them to invest a little. "Look, I'm not asking you to bet your life. Just... I don't know, fifty bucks? A hundred? What you'd spend on a new video game. Just trust me on this."
There was an awkward silence. The boys looked at each other.
"I don't know, Mike..." said Leo, shrugging. "I prefer to spend my money on things I can touch. Like vinyl."
"I need to save for the new Fallout," said Sam, apologizing.
In the end, they reluctantly agreed to do it "later", a polite "no" that clearly meant "never".
Michael didn't insist. He saw the wall they had put up. He sighed and shrugged. "Alright. I can't force anyone to do things."
The topic seemed to die. Leo went back to his sketchbook. Sam picked up a controller. Michael felt disappointed, but he had tried.
The conversation went back to video games, Sam and Leo arguing about Fallout. But Michael noticed Jake didn't join in.
While Sam explained why New Vegas was better than Fallout 3, Michael saw Jake was thinking. He was quiet, staring at the beer in his hand. He wasn't a tech nerd, but he understood money. And he understood risk.
Jake saw the absolute confidence with which Michael had spoken. He saw the success of 'White Iverson', a song that had gone from zero to viral in days. He saw how everything this sixteen-year-old kid touched seemed to turn to gold.
Jake followed Michael to the kitchen as he went to get another beer from the fridge.
"Hey," said Jake, his voice lower than usual, without his usual party energy. "Seriously. What is this Ethereum thing?"
Michael stopped with his hand on the fridge door. He turned. Jake wasn't joking. He was serious.
"It's... the future," said Michael, deciding to be as honest as possible. He told him basic things.
"It's not like Bitcoin, which is just a currency. It's a platform. It's like... a world computer. People will be able to build things on top of it. Contracts, apps... everything decentralized. It's not smoke or a scam, it's legit."
Jake frowned. "Contracts... you sound like my dad."
"Think of it this way, Jake," said Michael, closing the fridge. "It's like if right now, in 2015, you had the chance to buy Google stock in 1999. It's that big. And right now, it's worth less than a dollar."
Jake processed that. "And you... do you think it's going to go up?"
Michael stared at him. "I don't think so. I know so. I don't know about much, but about this, I know. I don't know how much, but it could be a 100x or even a 1000x in a couple of years."
Jake fell silent. He was saving every penny he earned at the Burger Barn. He had been working double shifts for almost a year. He had $5,000 saved. He was about to buy a used Ford Mustang. His dream.
Five thousand dollars. It was all the money he had in the world. It was a stupid bet, based on the hunch of a sixteen-year-old kid who made sad music in his bedroom.
But... he was the same kid who had just gotten millions of views on YouTube.
Jake decided to take the risk.
"Fuck it," said Jake, almost in a whisper. "Fuck it. If you're that sure, I'm in. I'll invest the $5,000."
Now it was Michael who was surprised. Of all of them, Jake, the party guy, the jock... he was the last one he expected to take the leap.
Michael felt a weight of responsibility. "Are you sure, Jake? It's your entire savings."
"No," said Jake, a slow, nervous smile on his face. "I'm not sure at all. I'm terrified. But... I trust you, Zombie. You seem to know what you're doing."
Michael looked at him for a long moment. He patted him on the shoulder.
"I swear you won't regret it."
Michael stood by his laptop, which he had placed on the kitchen table. The conversation about Ethereum was over. Jake, now with an expression of terror and excitement on his face, was transferring money from his banking app.
"Okay," said Jake, his voice a nervous whisper. "Five thousand. I just sent $5,000 to Coinbase. God, I feel like I'm buying drugs."
Michael guided him through the process. "Don't buy Bitcoin. Look for ETH. Ethereum."
"Okay... ETH... Buy... Done." Jake looked at his phone. "Well. That's it. Now I'm a cryptocurrency investor. Great."
Sam, Leo, and Nate had been watching the entire interaction in silence, with a mixture of awe and skepticism. They watched Jake, the "normal" one, just bet five thousand dollars on "magic internet money" based on Michael's word.
Jake's confidence was a stronger blow than any argument Michael could have given.
There was a long silence. Sam was the first to crack.
"Well... fuck it," said Sam, pulling out his own phone. "I was going to spend $150 on Fallout 4 and Battlefront... but if Jake is putting in 5k, I guess I can take a risk. I don't want to be the only idiot who didn't get rich."
He turned to Michael, his face serious for the first time. "What's the app called?"
Michael smiled and showed Sam how to download Coinbase and buy his first $150 in Ethereum.
Leo sighed, a long, dramatic sound. He took out his wallet, which was worn and torn. He took out a hundred dollars in cash.
"I hate this," said Leo, handing the money to Michael. "I hate everything about this. It feels like gambling. But..." he looked at Jake and then at Michael, "I hate the idea of you two being right and me missing out more. Buy me a hundred dollars of that thing."
Everyone looked at Nate. The quiet giant simply took out his phone, which already had the Coinbase app open. He had been downloading it silently while the others talked.
"How much should I put?" he asked, his voice calm.
"Whatever you feel comfortable losing, Nate," said Michael honestly.
Nate nodded. He typed something. "I put $200."
Michael looked around. Jake, the party guy. Sam, the geek. Leo, the cynic. And Nate, the silent giant. They had all just bought Ethereum.
His inner circle. His tribe. They had just taken their first step toward wealth.
"Okay," said Michael, his voice light. "Now that we are all financial criminals... who wants to play Call of Duty?"
The tension broke. Sam let out a war cry and ran to the PS4.
Michael stayed in the kitchen a second longer, looking at his own phone. He opened his crypto wallet. He saw his own massive balance: 437,500 ETH. And now, his friends had joined the game.
He hadn't just gotten them to invest. He had just tied their fates to his.