Mrs. Miller found him there a minute later, when she returned and handed him a mug of herbal tea. As the two of them stood shoulder to shoulder looking north, she asked, “How much trouble is this going to be?”
He wrapped his hands around the mug. “For them?” He nodded toward the window. “None. They’re pretty much untouchable. For me?” He hoisted the mug a few inches. “A bit. Contributing extra money to the tax authorities isn’t illegal, so that won’t be a problem. They” — again he nodded toward the window — “will grumble, saying I brought attention to them for no good reason, and that they’d warned me.” He took a sip of tea. “Which they did.”
“What about the professor?” his housekeeper asked.
“Yeah, that’s the rub,” he said. “It would really, really be best if she doesn’t get onto their radar.”
“What do you think they’d do?”
“Their tradition, when somebody threatens them, is to make that person disappear.”
“But you said they’re untouchable,” Mrs. Miller pointed out.
“Oh, I meant they’re untouchable legally. They’re still totally fixated on avoiding human interference or even influence. If they think her interference could lead to humans encroaching into their space…” He sipped his tea. “She’ll go poof.” 
“Why are the so panicked about humans finding them? I’ve never really understood that,” she said.
“Well, look at the history of powerful cultures interacting with weaker ones. All the explorers. They brought disease, they stole land and anything that could be stolen, they enslaved them. It’s not a pretty picture.”
“Surely humanity has advanced past that?” she said. “We’re more civilized than those old Conquistadors.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think so?” He gestured toward the window. “I don’t know how many Folk there are as of today, but something like six hundred. Let’s say a thousand to make the math easy. Their balance sheet shows they’re worth, collectively, a bit more than a billion dollars” —
“What?” she gasped. “How?”
“There’s a long history. As you said, they’re industrious, and there’s the miracle of compound interest. So that means every one of them” — he pointed to the window — “leader, laborer, or infant, is a millionaire. How many people in Punxsy are millionaires, do you think? Other than you, me, and Nancy?”
“A few,” she said.
“Sure, a few. But I think the rest would be very envious, wondering why these aliens should have so more than they do. But” — he held up a hand — “that’s only public money. I know for sure they’ve been accumulating off-the-books wealth for years. Gold, silver. Drugs; I tried to get rid of the drugs, but who knows? More recently, Bitcoin. 
“For that matter” — he put his mug down, becoming more agitated — “how much do you know about the history of Bitcoin? It involves very clever math, and was originated by an anonymous person or group that called itself Satoshi Nakamoto. Nobody has ever figured out who Nakamoto was, in spite of a whole lot of investigation. I think there’s a possibility that the Folk came up with Bitcoin. It’s actually very logical, they’re mathematic and computer geniuses, and they’re really good at keeping a secret. But here’s the kicker: Nakamoto has a million Bitcoin, worth something close to a hundred billion — with a B — dollars.”
 “Oh, my,” she said.
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “So disease and envy by local people are one thing, but my real fear is when rumors get started. The Folk are Satoshi Nakamoto. The Folk have more gold than Fort Knox. The Folk have drums of cocaine. Or” — he waved a hand — “a collection of Beanie Babies, or US State quarters. Whatever. It would be a modern gold rush, people from all over the country, all over the world, overrunning them. They wouldn’t last a day.” He picked up his mug and sighed. “All they want is to be left alone.”