Custody (who moves the money) & Temperature (where the key sleeps)
Ava doesn’t start with brands. She draws two quiet levers and waits.
On the first she writes Custody — who can move the funds.
On the second she writes Temperature — where the key sleeps.
“Name your posture on both,” she says. “When you can do that, the rest of the choices stop feeling like guesses.”
She flips the pencil and underlines today. Not forever. Today.
Ava tells you a simple story.
On the ferry (an exchange), you log in with an email and a password. If you forget them, support can reset you. A bank transfer clears, a buy button fills, a withdrawal queue says “please wait.” It’s comfortable—and permissioned. Policy can pause you, reverse you, or rate-limit you. This is custodial. It’s fine for crossing water. You just don’t live on a boat.
On shore, the door opens with a key only you hold. Twelve or twenty-four words, written on paper. No helpdesk. No quiet reversals. If you sign it, it’s you. If you lose it, it’s gone. That’s non-custodial. Neutral. Unforgiving. The rules apply the same to everyone—especially you.
Ava looks up. “Neither is holy. Each serves a moment. Use the ferry to get across. Use your own key to live.”
She has you star one bookmark: Official sign-up (Ava’s safe path) for your ferry (Binance/Kraken/Coinbase). Then another: Official wallet page (Rabby/MetaMask/Trust Wallet). The star makes a soft click in the browser bar. “Lanes before speed,” she says.
“Hot,” Ava says, tapping your screen, “is connected.” A browser extension or a mobile wallet. Fast, visible, perfect for learning with small amounts. Also exposed: pop-ups, rogue extensions, the temptation to click when you’re tired.
“Cold,” she continues, setting a small hardware device on the table, “is offline.” Slower, quieter. The private key never touches an online machine. You bring cold in when the balance justifies a vault.
She sketches the matrix in words:
“You’ll likely live in non-custodial + hot for tiny practice,” she says, circling the air, “and graduate to non-custodial + cold when the numbers would make you bargain with yourself.”
Ava asks you to say it out loud: “Today I am a Learner.”
Learner means: ferry for crossing, hot wallet for tiny hands-on, nothing in hot that would keep you up at night.
Later, you might say: “I am an Operator.”
Operator means: same setup, plus a hardware wallet as a quiet backstop. Daily taps from hot, periodic transfers to cold.
One day, you’ll say: “I am Long-Hold.”
That means: most value asleep in cold, hot holds interaction spend only, ferry empty by default.
She nods when you choose. “Good. Naming things makes them lighter.”
Ava keeps this part calm and practical.
She has you open your wallet’s official page from the bookmark—not search. You’ll install from there in the next lesson, but the lane is set. On the ferry, you enable app-based 2FA, set an anti-phishing code, and turn on a withdrawal allowlist with a time-lock. On your side, you decide where your seed lives (two paper copies, two places), and you promise yourself one simple rule: one wallet extension per browser profile. If you need both Rabby and MetaMask, you give each its own profile. Fewer ghosts. Fewer mistakes.
When you ask about “threats,” Ava doesn’t hand you a list. She walks you through a room.
First, the wrong door: a download page that rhymes with the real one. You almost click. She taps your bookmarks bar—the Official page star you set earlier—and the impostor goes dull.
Next, a blind prompt slides up on a dapp. “If you can’t read it,” she says, “you don’t sign it.” You close it and feel the room get quieter.
Then a window you forgot you opened: an old unlimited approval lingering from weeks ago. You visit your revoke page, watch the line vanish, and feel the draft stop.
Finally, your laptop nags for updates; you restart before opening the wallet. Fresh profile, no random extensions, no shared devices. The desk looks cleaner because it is.
“The explorer is your receipt,” Ava says. “If it isn’t there, it didn’t happen.”
“We’re not building paranoia,” she says, capping the pen. “We’re building posture.”
Ava keeps your hands on the table.
“Three motions. No money.”
You star four lanes—Official sign-up (Ava’s safe path), Official wallet page (Ava’s safe path), Explorer, Revoke tool. The star clicks; the path feels real.
You write your posture at the top of the page—Learner / Operator / Long-Hold (today: ___)—and say it out loud.
You set a ceiling for hot: a number you’re perfectly fine never seeing again in hot. You circle it. The circle feels like a guardrail.
You close the notebook. The room gets quieter.
Ava stands, sliding the hardware device back into its box.
“You’ve named your posture,” she says. “Next we pick a tool you can actually read—and install it from the right place.”