You Won’t Believe How Wall Street is Using Blockchains and Emojis Now

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It was in such an era—where all things seemed possible if only one surrendered common sense to the perfect clarity of ledgers and codes—that the house of VanEck, renowned amongst the financial aristocracy, approached the altar of progress. On a Tuesday, that day beloved by press releases and bureaucrats alike, they led forth their newborn: the so-called VanEck Treasury Fund (curiously nicknamed VBILL, perhaps in homage to fast food receipts or the price of Moscow’s samovars), in partnership with an enigmatic consortium called Securitize.

To the surprise of the peasants and the delight of those banking with more than bread crumbs, VanEck magnanimously extended an invitation: invest in the ever-mysterious “on-chain” U.S. Treasury bills! Not simply on one blockchain—no, such simplicity is for serfs—but four! Like Count Rostov flitting between country estates, these digital securities haunt Ethereum, Solana, Avalanche, and BNB Chain, as though afraid the Czar might nationalize the network.

The shares, unlike one’s father’s dusty certificates locked in a St. Petersburg drawer, live entirely on the blockchain—a miracle! Investors (the kind whose ledgers contain more zeroes than peasants at harvest time) might glance with joy at their holdings at any hour, for the price and their God-given ownership are visible at all times, day or night, Sunday or sabbath. No more waiting for sluggish men with quills; tokens can now be bought using USDC, a digital coin that claims it is as good as dollars—only less useful for paying rent to one’s landlord.

Yet, reader, all this innovation bends not for the moujik or the middle-class scribe. The minimum entry: $100,000 on the lesser chains, a mere bagatelle for minor nobility, and a full million dollars for the Ethereum salon. As ever, equality finds itself out in the snow, shivering, while State Street Bank and Trust guards the purse within (something about “custodian,” which always means, in the end, that the money lives in the fortress of the old world).

Through the miracles of “atomic liquidity”—which, for those nostalgic for chemistry class, involves tokens transforming instantly into stablecoins—investors may redeem their fortune at will, all thanks to the collaboration of Agora (curiously named after a Greek public square, but run by the grandson of the founding VanEck himself). Redemption is a simple affair: one transaction and one AUSD token, faster than a winter sleigh ride.

At the annual banquet—er, press event—Herr DaCruz, master of digital assets at VanEck, declared with the gravity of a general at Borodino: “By bringing U.S. Treasuries on-chain, we provide a tool for secure, transparent, and liquid cash management.” No doubt, the peasants cheered softly in their hearts.

He added (as additional gravitas is always welcome), that such tokens “enhance liquidity and efficiency,” that great idol to which all bankers kneel. Meanwhile, Securitize’s own Carlos Domingo proclaimed the union of their “tokenization model” and VanEck’s “deep expertise” as if it were a Moscow ball uniting two powerful families, but with better spreadsheets and fewer waltzes.

The fund, one final detail, has wisely settled under the laws of the British Virgin Islands, that reliable archipelago for ships laden with gold. Should assets become restless, the magicians at Wormhole relocate them across blockchains (no horseback required). Securitize, for its part, tends the bureaucratic fields, providing administration, transfers, and, presumably, the occasional digital glass of vodka.

Thus, the VBILL Fund is born—another step along the winding road of progress—fueled as much by optimism as by a sturdy sense of humor in the face of humanity’s eternal attempt to make money both faster and more complicated. 🧐💸💼

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2025-05-13 18:58