Keep Going
Copyright© 2026 by Trevor Dohlen
Chapter 5: The Other Wallet
Daniel did not trust himself.
This was not a philosophical statement.
It was a design requirement.
He sat in the control room with Margaret on one monitor, Leonard on another, and Mercer occupying the large display in front of him.
On the desk were two hardware wallets, one notebook, three sheets of paper, and a cup of coffee Daniel had already forgotten to drink.
Margaret said, “Let me make sure I understand this.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“You want the trust to send you Bitcoin automatically.”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t want Mercer to have the private keys.”
“Correct.”
“And you don’t want to manually provide a new address every time.”
“Correct.”
“So you’ve created some kind of public key that allows Mercer to generate addresses.”
“Extended public key.”
Leonard said, “Zpub.”
Daniel smiled.
“Look at you.”
“I looked it up.”
“I’m proud.”
“Don’t be.”
Margaret held up a hand.
“Before either of you says zpub again, I want the alphabet.”
Daniel smiled.
“Pub means public. Prv means private.”
“Public is safe?”
“Public lets you watch or receive. Private is the dangerous side. If somebody gets the private key, they may be able to spend.”
Margaret nodded.
“That is considerably more useful than the alphabet.”
Leonard said, “Then why zpub instead of xpub?”
Daniel pointed at him.
“You really did look it up.”
“I bill by the hour.”
Daniel pulled the legal pad closer.
“The extended keys come in public and private pairs. Xpub and xprv are the older generic-looking labels. Ypub and yprv are commonly used by wallets for wrapped SegWit. Zpub and zprv commonly identify native SegWit.”
Margaret frowned.
“Different kinds of money?”
“Same bitcoin. Mostly different address and script conventions, and the prefixes help wallet software know what it is looking at.”
“And the prv version spends.”
“It can derive the private keys that spend. Which is why Mercer gets my zpub and never my zprv.”
Margaret pointed at the word.
“That sentence goes in the file.”
“Gladly.”
Leonard turned the pad around and wrote: m/84’/0’/0’/0/17
Margaret stared at it.
“And what in hell is that?”
“Directions,” Daniel said.
“To where?”
Daniel drew a tree.
“The wallet starts from one seed. The derivation path tells software which branch to follow. Eighty-four means the native SegWit convention we are using. Zero means Bitcoin. The next zero is the account. Then zero means the receiving branch instead of change. Seventeen means address number seventeen on that branch.”
Margaret pointed at the seventeen.
“So that is basically house number seventeen?”
Daniel smiled.
“Pretty much.”
“And eighteen is next door?”
“Exactly.”
“Why did the Bitcoin people not just say that?”
“Then we would have fewer conferences.”
Leonard laughed.
Margaret looked at Mercer on the screen.
“And Mercer can keep walking down that public branch?”
“Yes,” Daniel said. “Address eighteen, nineteen, twenty, and so on. But the zpub cannot walk backward into the private side.”
Mercer added, “Possession of the public extended key does not provide the private signing material.”
Margaret looked at Daniel.
“Your explanation was better.”
“I am framing that.”
“Can either of you explain this without congratulating each other?”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Think of it like a checkbook where Mercer can see the account numbers for an unlimited series of deposit slips but has no ability to sign a check.”
Margaret nodded slowly.
“That is considerably better.”
Leonard said, “The deposits are still traceable.”
“Of course.”
“From an accounting standpoint.”
“Yes.”
“From a privacy standpoint?”
Daniel shrugged.
“Depends what information gets associated with the addresses.”
Margaret frowned.
“That sounds like a problem.”
“It can be.”
“Then why use it?”
“Because reuse is worse.”
Leonard looked up.
“Explain.”
Daniel tapped the notebook.
“If Mercer sends every distribution to the same Bitcoin address forever, anyone analyzing that address has a very obvious bucket to watch.”
“And with the zpub?”
“Mercer derives a fresh receiving address for each distribution.”
Margaret said, “But they’re all still yours.”
“Yes.”
“Can someone tell that?”
“Sometimes. Depends on how transactions are later spent and what else they know.”
Leonard pointed toward the screen.
“So you’re not making yourself invisible.”
“No.”
“You’re making it less stupid.”
Daniel smiled.
“Exactly.”
Margaret sighed.
“I would like that sentence removed from the trust documentation.”
“It wasn’t going in.”
“Good.”
Mercer said, “Would you like me to record ‘avoid unnecessary address reuse’ as a distribution policy?”
Daniel turned toward the screen.
“Yes.”
“Recorded.”
Leonard frowned.
“What happens when it runs out of addresses?”
Daniel looked at him.
“It doesn’t.”
“Everything runs out.”
“Not in any meaningful human timeframe.”
“That’s the sort of thing engineers say before accountants find the edge case.”
Daniel laughed.
“Fair.”
The first test distribution was deliberately tiny.
Mercer derived the first address.
Daniel verified it independently using his own wallet.
They matched.
Daniel leaned back.
“Good.”
Mercer said, “Would you like me to send the test amount?”
“Yes. One hundred thousand sats.”
“From the trust operating wallet?”
“Yes.”
Margaret immediately interrupted.
“Why is the trust paying you?”
“Testing.”
“That is not a trust purpose.”
Daniel stared at her.
“It’s twenty dollars.”
“Approximately.”
Leonard said, “Not the point.”
Daniel looked from Margaret to Leonard.
“You two are enjoying this.”
“No,” Margaret said. “We’re preventing you from creating bad habits.”
Daniel sighed.
“Fine. Mark it as a documented systems test authorized by the trustee.”
Margaret smiled.
“Now you’re learning.”
“I’m beginning to regret funding your profession.”
“Too late.”
Mercer displayed the transaction.
Daniel reviewed the destination.
Fresh address.
Correct amount.
Fee reasonable.
“Broadcast.”
“Broadcast.”
Leonard said, “How long?”
Daniel replied, “Until what?”
“Until it’s done.”
Daniel smiled.
“That’s the fun part.”
Leonard looked suspicious.
Seven minutes later, Leonard said, “Is it done?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“No block.”
“How often are blocks?”
“On average, about ten minutes.”
Leonard looked at the clock.
“So three minutes.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
“You just said ten.”
“Average.”
“So roughly three.”
“No.”
Margaret smiled.
She had heard this argument before.
Leonard said, “You people designed money with random settlement times?”
Daniel pointed.
“First, not random in the way you’re implying.”
“Second?”
“Yes, we did.”
“We?”
“Humanity.”
Mercer said, “The interval between blocks follows a probabilistic distribution. A ten-minute average does not imply that a block is expected exactly ten minutes after the previous block.”
Leonard stared at the screen.
“Thank you, Professor.”
“You’re welcome.”
Daniel burst out laughing.
Margaret covered her mouth.
Leonard said, “Did it know I was being sarcastic?”
Mercer replied, “Yes.”
“That is deeply irritating.”
Daniel nodded.
“You’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t intend to.”
The block arrived eighteen minutes later.
“One confirmation,” Mercer announced.
Daniel checked his wallet.
The funds appeared.
He looked at the receive history.
Address zero.
One hundred thousand sats.
“Good.”
Mercer said, “Should the next distribution use address index one?”
“Yes.”
“And subsequent distributions increment automatically?”
“Yes.”
“Under what conditions?”
Daniel leaned back.
That was the more interesting question.
They had already defined how much the trust needed to retain.
Operating reserve.
Emergency reserve.
Outstanding liabilities.
Taxes.
Expected capital expenses.
Everything above those thresholds could eventually be distributed under the trust terms.
Daniel had originally imagined quarterly transfers.
But why quarterly?
That was a calendar convention.
The system knew when money arrived.
It knew current reserves.
It knew obligations.
It could calculate whether funds were surplus.
Daniel said, “What if you distribute when actual income clears and reserve requirements remain satisfied?”
Leonard frowned.
“How often could that be?”
“Depends on income.”
“Daily?”
“Possibly.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want three hundred sixty-five distribution entries every year.”
Daniel looked at Mercer.
“How many would bother you?”
Leonard ignored the question.
Margaret said, “Monthly is reasonable.”
Daniel considered it.
“Monthly feels arbitrary.”
Margaret replied, “So does Tuesday. Yet we still have Tuesdays.”
Daniel laughed.
“Fine. Monthly.”
Mercer said, “At what time?”
Daniel frowned.
“Does it matter?”
“For deterministic execution, yes.”
Leonard groaned.
“Now the computer is doing trust administration.”
Daniel pointed at the screen.
“That was the idea.”
The first real distribution occurred one month later.
Daniel received a notification while eating breakfast.
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