Anvil
Gold · your broker · your keys
The gold machine that knows when to do nothing.
It works the quiet days. It refuses the ones that empty accounts. The money never leaves your broker.
It waits
When the day is wrong, Anvil does not add. Sitting still is a decision most machines cannot make.
It leaves
A book that is going nowhere is closed. Nothing is carried on hope.
It has a floor
There is a depth it will not cross. The account is never asked to prove how much it can lose.