‘okay,’ sonar says, hands waving around as he animatedly explains, ‘it’s pretty simple. imagine you want to own a piece of art. like, the mona lisa with a beanie, okay? so a version of mona is sent to you with an official stamp on it, like holographic or something, that can’t be copied by anyone else, that’s sealed in a really special kind of vault that’s only keyed to you and has your name plastered all over it. that’s what the blockchain is. and now you can say that you have a claim to beanied mona lisa for anyone that asks. that’s what an nft is in layman’s terms. do you get it?’
‘sonar,’ you say tiredly, ‘i really appreciate the… lesson, but can we have this conversation when i’m out of the hospital?’
‘oh.’ he straightens in the plastic chair, glancing at your iv and heart monitor, the latter of which’s beeps seem to have not been enough to remind him that you nearly died twelve hours ago. ‘yeah, i mean. sure.’
the massive amounts of painkillers coursing through your bloodstream mean you’ve been willing to hear him out - not like you have much choice, lying in bed as it is, your entire body sore. with a moderate amount of effort, you place a hand on his, running your fingers over his knuckles.
‘but thank you, i appreciate the company. and that you’re so - passionate about this.’
‘of course,’ he says, mollified (and is that a blush you detect, or is the hospital’s lighting suddenly warmer?) ‘i, uh, got you a get well soon card, too.’
‘thanks, sonar, that’s really sweet.’ you close your eyes, leaning your head back against the pillow. sonar fishes around in his pocket for his phone.
‘…it isn’t one of those bored ape things, right?’
you hear him freeze, and then the chair is scooching back from the bed as he stands up.
‘…i’m going to get you a physical get well soon card from the physical store.’
as he leaves, your face breaks open into a grin for the first time all day.
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