The Fiat Ocean: Why Bitcoin is the Ultimate Raft in a Rising Sea

Imagine the world economy as a vast ocean of fiat money. The sea level only ever rises—waves crash in with new water (money printing by central banks), but it never recedes. Over decades, more water floods in, diluting everything.

The only sustenance for survival is ice cubes, frozen from this saltwater. Every day, you must consume them: food, rent, energy, everything costs cubes.

Most people are swimmers. They tread water from dawn to dusk, laboring for factory ships that freeze seawater into salary-cubes. But the moment those cubes hit your hands, they start melting (inflation). Waves slap more away (taxes, fees). You barely eat what you earn before it vanishes, forced to swim every day until your body quits.

A lucky few escape the water entirely. They live on floating platforms of special, non-melting ice:

• Small landlords on modest rafts (a paid-off house).

• Professionals on sturdy dinghies (stocks, pensions, rentals).

• Billionaires on massive yachts (corporations, real estate empires).

When a trillion-dollar wave surges (quantitative easing, stimulus), fresh ice rains onto these platforms. Owners do nothing; the wave handles it. Their structures grow taller and wider automatically.

They feast from endless stockpiles, lend cubes for more in return, borrow against the platform without selling, and pass it all tax-free to heirs. Infinite spending power, zero labor: the “buy, borrow, die” existence.

Most platforms have a flaw—they can multiply. For real estate, builders freeze new seafloor into extra rafts (developing land, skyscrapers). Gold miners extract hidden veins for more golden ones. Stocks splinter into additional shares or new vessels (issuances, dilutions).

This is supply creep: every big wave triggers a building boom. The ice spreads thinly across all platforms, old and new, diluting each one’s value like butter over too much bread.

Then there’s Bitcoin: a strange raft in the roughest waters, made of the hardest, purest ice. Exactly 21 million cubes, sealed by unbreakable code—no extras, ever. No mining deeper, no expansions, no duplicates.

Waves can’t spawn new Bitcoin rafts. The ice piles solely onto the existing one, making your piece thicker and more valuable without sharing.

Anyone can board: trade a melting cube for a fraction, and suddenly you’re on a platform that compounds with every surge. For the first time, ordinary folks can achieve that yacht-owner life—eat, lend, borrow, inherit—without starting rich.

Bitcoin turns infinite dilution into personal gain. In a sea doomed to rise, true scarcity isn’t rare; it’s revolutionary. Once enough swimmers climb aboard, the old game ends.