$PONTRA came to Robinhood Chain as most do, unheralded, minted at 0xF034…52c and let loose into the hours without ceremony. No founder's name survives in memory worth keeping; the archivist notes only the hands that moved through it, 0xb872…e84a first among them, feeding in 0.43 ETH like kindling, and Anselm II beside him, smaller, cautious, a man who lit no fires he did not expect to burn out.
For seven hours it climbed toward 40.7 thousand dollars of market cap, and forty-six buyers came to warm themselves at it in a single day, thirty-one ETH churning through its veins. Then came the five minutes. A single candle took seventy percent of it, the cliff beneath the climb, and by 17:51 UTC the price had shrunk to a shadow, 0.0000109 dollars, liquidity down to 0.03 ETH, a puddle where a river had been. 0xa82a…4800 walked out with 0.14 ETH for nothing put in; the last ones through the door always eat best.
Thirty five of forty seven coins its size are dead already, the median corpse cold by hour eight. $PONTRA kept the appointment on time, neither early nor late, which is its own kind of discipline.