And on the 8th day, God looked down on his planned paradise and said, “I need an internet money.” So God made a Zcasher.
God said, “I need somebody willing to get up before dawn, sync the full node, work all day in the forums, check the node again, eat supper and then go to town and stay past midnight at a Zcash meetup.” So God made a Zcasher.
“I need somebody with arms strong enough to run a mining rig and yet gentle enough to prepare for proof of stake. Somebody to tweet about privacy, tame cantankerous wallets, come home hungry, have to wait on lunch until his wife’s done feeding visiting ladies with Chipotle paid with Zcash, and tell the ladies to be sure and come back real soon — and mean it.” So God made a Zcasher.
God said, “I need somebody willing to sit up all night with a newcomer who lost his private key. And watch them realize they lost it all. Then dry his eyes and say, ‘Maybe next year.’ I need somebody who can build zcashd and zebra from source code, shield funds with a verifiable proof, who can make a page on Free2z, contribute to ZecHub and post on ZECpages. And who, before the next network upgrade, will finish his forty-hour week by Tuesday noon, then, pain’n from carpal tunnel, put in another seventy-two hours.” So God made a Zcasher.
God had to have somebody willing to test Flexa, ZGo and other payment processors at double speed to be ready for when the masses pay with Zcash and yet stop in mid-field and race to help an entrepreneur who wants to know how they can earn ZEC. So God made a Zcasher.
God said, “I need somebody strong enough to build privacy preserving software and advance the state of cryptography, yet gentle enough to think about user experience and sustainability, who will go to the local Zcash-accepting coffee shop daily and onboard new users. It had to be somebody who’d code deep and straight and not cut corners. Somebody to encrypt, decrypt, hash, debug, push and pull and compile and deploy and commit changes and review the code and finish a hard week’s work with a five-mile drive to church.
“Somebody who’d bale a community together with the soft strong bonds of sharing, who would laugh and then sigh, and then reply, with smiling eyes, when his son says he wants to spend his life ‘doing what dad does.’” So God made a Zcasher.