THE TALE OF THREE BROTHERS
In the cold void of space, on a hidden Martian outpost nestled deep within the craters of Earth’s Moon, three brothers were born: Burt, Kurt, and Murt.
Identical in DNA, but each shaped by a different force.
Burt was the golden boy. Friendly. Transparent. His heart pulsed in proof-of-work rhythms. He believed in the power of decentralization and fairness. So when the time came, he launched Burt on Kaspa.
Kurt wasn’t interested in fairness. He didn’t care for decentralization. Kurt was chaos in a jetpack. He saw the world and thought, why build slowly when you can moon faster. So he created Kurt on Base chain, built for the degen hordes deep in the crypto trenches. Fueled by FOMO, memes, and mayhem. Gas fees meant nothing to him. Kurt was all about volume, virality, and vaporizing charts. He would do whatever it took to pump his bags to the moon.
But then there was Murt.
Murt didn’t launch anything other than himself. He didn’t build. He didn’t shill. He was just there. Always had been. Always will be.
He wasn’t driven by fairness like Burt or frenzy like Kurt. Murt didn’t care who was right or who went viral. He stayed on the couch. Green eyes half-shut. Music low. World spinning.
Where Burt engaged, and Kurt exploded, Murt simply observed.
No mission. No motive. No movement.
He didn’t need a purpose. He was the pause between blocks. The silence between pumps. The brother who left the outpost a little late, because he saw no reason to be in a hurry.
Some say Burt represents the chain we need. Kurt, the chaos we chase on base.
But Murt he’s the one who understands it’s all the same in the end KAS or base or just being.
And when it all finally crashes, when the candles fade and the charts go flat, Murt will still be there.
Sitting.
Grinning.
