The Unregistered Instrument

When the tools of expression become the evidence of a crime.

Ken’s safety glasses were fogging up with the humidity in the air. Seemingly even past sunset, the stickiness of the hot summer air would not relent into the twilight hours. His shop vacuum drawing away the airborne sawdust provided limited relief as he continued to work into the night. A larger than usual order came in last week; his customer having the utmost urgency for its delivery.

Letting off the clutch, his wood lathe came to a halt. Releasing the chuck, Ken placed the last of the hollowed out wooden barrels into an empty shoe box - all neatly arranged. A mixture of cherry wood, elm, and maple. While the customer didn’t specify the material for the order, he needed to use up what was left of his material stock.

Taking pause while stepping out of his garage, Ken recalled a conversation with his wife earlier in the month; she was insistent that he needed to stop.

“Ken, you’ve done enough. It’s time.”

“Jocelyn, I can’t. I want to but I can’t. This is important.”

“Ken, please!“ exclaimed Jocelyn. He felt her frustration as she paced around the kitchen. “I’m tired of us living like this. It’s time to stop.”

“If I stop, there is no one behind me to carry on what we’ve built. What we’ve done here has and continues to give me great purpose. People are relying on us.”

“I know, honey. I know,” said Jocelyn as she walked into her husband’s arms. “I’m just fearful they’re going to do to us what they did to your brother.”

Holding his wife, laying his chin on her head, Ken stood there. The silence in the kitchen at that moment was deafening. She was right, he’s been doing this long enough.

“I’ll use what’s left of the material on the shelves. Should be about another 50 or so units. After that. I’ll stop. In the meantime, let’s start getting things ready so we can leave as soon as possible.”

Looking up at him, Jocelyn quietly nodded as she slipped away into the hallway towards their bedroom.

BANG!

The world splintered. A roar of white light scorched Ken’s retinas, tearing him from the memory and slamming him back into the humid air of the garage. Unable to see clearly as his retinas regained vision, the commotion of footsteps and voices shouting orders to get on the ground began to overwhelm Ken.

Getting quickly thrown to the ground Ken’s face lay on the cold concrete of his garage as he tried to avoid getting loose sawdust in his eyes and mouth. Officers stood over top him, knees on his back and neck as they bound his hands behind his back.

“Ken!” Looking over at his wife rushing into the garage to come to his aid, she was quickly stopped by two officers holding her rage back. “Where are you taking him?!”

The state Agent adorned in his suit looked towards Jocelyn with his light pad in hand. “Your husband is being charged with several violations,“ the Agent stated, tapping a command on his light pad. “The most serious include the unlawful production of unregistered communication devices and conspiracy to incite expression. Both carry life sentences.”

Jocelyn lunged, her spit flecking the Agent’s lapel. “Fuck you! They’re just pens!”

“Ma’am, this is your only warning to keep your thoughts to yourself.” The Agent didn’t even flinch. “Your husband will be issued a State-approved AI representative for his tribunal. His sentence will be issued then.”

Feeling helpless, Jocelyn fell to the floor, her tears mixing with the sawdust left by the lathe.

The Agent scanned the sawdust-covered floor with the clinical detachment of a man inspecting a plague outbreak. To him, the lathe wasn’t a tool; it was a weapon of mass communication. He saw nothing more than a fabrication shop to incite misinformation through the act of writing.

“Quarantine the area. We can’t let this facility find its way into the minds of any Resistance sympathizers. Keep an eye on her as well,” said the Agent while looking at a defeated yet enraged Jocelyn. “She’s a liability to our cause. Keep her under house arrest. Search the grounds, and her devices. Find whatever you need to bring her to justice.”

Looking down at Ken, still pinned to the floor, the Agent crouched, staring down his latest prey.

“It would be cruel for the State to separate your fate from that of your wife. While we’re conducting our investigation, we’ll hold you until she can join you. Bag him.”

“NO!!!” The scream ripped from Jocelyn’s throat, raw and jagged, as she fought against the hands holding her back from her husband.

Suddenly everything went black for Ken as he felt the pull string of the cloth prison close around his neck; hearing only the shrill of Jocelyn’s cries calling for him as he felt his feet dragging across the concrete.

Author’s Note

This story was inspired by the arrest and prosecution of Keonne Rodriguez and William Hill, the co-developers of Samourai Wallet—an open-source Bitcoin wallet focused on financial privacy. A core tenet of the open-source movement is that code is a form of expression, protected as speech, ensuring that individuals have the tools to protect their digital footprints.

The legal proceedings against them, and the questions they raise regarding due process and the criminalization of software development, are critical to the future of our digital and physical Agoras. You can learn more about the case and its implications for the right to privacy here.

Letting off the clutch, his wood lathe came to a halt. Releasing the chuck, Ken placed the last of the hollowed out wooden barrels into an empty shoe box - all neatly arranged. A mixture of cherry wood, elm, and maple. While the customer didn’t specify the material for the order, he needed to use up what was left of his material stock.

Taking pause while stepping out of his garage, Ken recalled a conversation with his wife earlier in the month; she was insistent that he needed to stop.

“Ken, you’ve done enough. It’s time.”

“Jocelyn, I can’t. I want to but I can’t. This is important.”

“Ken, please!“ exclaimed Jocelyn. He felt her frustration as she paced around the kitchen. “I’m tired of us living like this. It’s time to stop.”

“If I stop, there is no one behind me to carry on what we’ve built. What we’ve done here has and continues to give me great purpose. People are relying on us.”

“I know, honey. I know,” said Jocelyn as she walked into her husband’s arms. “I’m just fearful they’re going to do to us what they did to your brother.”

Holding his wife, laying his chin on her head, Ken stood there. The silence in the kitchen at that moment was deafening. She was right, he’s been doing this long enough.

“I’ll use what’s left of the material on the shelves. Should be about another 50 or so units. After that. I’ll stop. In the meantime, let’s start getting things ready so we can leave as soon as possible.”

Looking up at him, Jocelyn quietly nodded as she slipped away into the hallway towards their bedroom.

BANG!

The world splintered. A roar of white light scorched Ken’s retinas, tearing him from the memory and slamming him back into the humid air of the garage. Unable to see clearly as his retinas regained vision, the commotion of footsteps and voices shouting orders to get on the ground began to overwhelm Ken.

Getting quickly thrown to the ground Ken’s face lay on the cold concrete of his garage as he tried to avoid getting loose sawdust in his eyes and mouth. Officers stood over top him, knees on his back and neck as they bound his hands behind his back.

“Ken!” Looking over at his wife rushing into the garage to come to his aid, she was quickly stopped by two officers holding her rage back. “Where are you taking him?!”

The state Agent adorned in his suit looked towards Jocelyn with his light pad in hand. “Your husband is being charged with several violations,“ the Agent stated, tapping a command on his light pad. “The most serious include the unlawful production of unregistered communication devices and conspiracy to incite expression. Both carry life sentences.”

Jocelyn lunged, her spit flecking the Agent’s lapel. “Fuck you! They’re just pens!”

“Ma’am, this is your only warning to keep your thoughts to yourself.” The Agent didn’t even flinch. “Your husband will be issued a State-approved AI representative for his tribunal. His sentence will be issued then.”

Feeling helpless, Jocelyn fell to the floor, her tears mixing with the sawdust left by the lathe.

The Agent scanned the sawdust-covered floor with the clinical detachment of a man inspecting a plague outbreak. To him, the lathe wasn’t a tool; it was a weapon of mass communication. He saw nothing more than a fabrication shop to incite misinformation through the act of writing.

“Quarantine the area. We can’t let this facility find its way into the minds of any Resistance sympathizers. Keep an eye on her as well,” said the Agent while looking at a defeated yet enraged Jocelyn. “She’s a liability to our cause. Keep her under house arrest. Search the grounds, and her devices. Find whatever you need to bring her to justice.”

Looking down at Ken, still pinned to the floor, the Agent crouched, staring down his latest prey.

“It would be cruel for the State to separate your fate from that of your wife. While we’re conducting our investigation, we’ll hold you until she can join you. Bag him.”

“NO!!!” The scream ripped from Jocelyn’s throat, raw and jagged, as she fought against the hands holding her back from her husband.

Suddenly everything went black for Ken as he felt the pull string of the cloth prison close around his neck; hearing only the shrill of Jocelyn’s cries calling for him as he felt his feet dragging across the concrete.

Author’s Note

This story was inspired by the arrest and prosecution of Keonne Rodriguez and William Hill, the co-developers of Samourai Wallet—an open-source Bitcoin wallet focused on financial privacy. A core tenet of the open-source movement is that code is a form of expression, protected as speech, ensuring that individuals have the tools to protect their digital footprints.

The legal proceedings against them, and the questions they raise regarding due process and the criminalization of software development, are critical to the future of our digital and physical Agoras. You can learn more about the case and its implications for the right to privacy here.