America has always had her boomtowns, lawless places where heathens mass, where gunslinging bandits and foolhardy speculators go in search of pleasure and risk. Things move quickly in towns that spring up overnight. Some go bust, others get rich. Eventually the barons sniff blood and send their Pinkertons; the army moves in; the government straightens everyone out. The gold rush of our era is gambling on the future, and the anarchic hamlets where online degenerates park their rickshaws are called Polymarket and Kalshi. On prediction markets, the nectar of capital flows, hegemons duel in smokey saloons, and forecasters trade contracts on the outcomes of world events.
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