Believe it or not: a bitcoin purse holds a fortune that nobody in the universe can open. It is a burn address, and its key was never written down. Inside the pylon, the "timekeeper" guesses that key ten times a second. It could unlock it right now. Enter the pylon, if you dare.
Your tab can draw keys too. It costs nothing but a little of your CPU, and it changes the odds by exactly as much as the server does — which is to say, not at all. But every tick is a ticket.
Type anything — a word, a phrase, a passphrase, a number. We hash it into a 32-byte private key, derive the bitcoin address, and show you where you landed. Every guess is independent.
Every bitcoin address is the public face of a private key — a random 256-bit number that no one can predict, including the address that originally generated it. There are about 2160 distinct addresses, and we're searching for the one private key whose public-key hash is exactly twenty zero bytes — a recognizable destination, but one with no shortcut to its key.
So we just guess. Each tick of the clock draws a fresh random 32-byte number, derives its secp256k1 public key, and hashes it with RIPEMD-160(SHA-256(pub)). If the result is twenty zeros, the clock chimes. It almost certainly won't.
The server keeps a slow heartbeat going around the clock; your tab, if you boost it, contributes additional throughput at no cost to anyone but your CPU. On average, neither helps. But the average isn't the bet. Every tick is independent — the trillionth guess has exactly the same odds as the first, and the universe owes you no average. Someone, somewhere, is always taking that bet. It might be you. It might be now.