April 12, 2008. The day that The Anti-Virus album dropped and The Futureverse had it's public launch.

Its roots were humble: a small bedroom in San Diego, a crib pressed against the dresser, a mic perched on top, and a Message too loud to ignore. I was in survival mode then, freelance design, odd jobs, supporting a young family, building part-time with Nureau. The world felt unstable, but inside I heard a clear signal. I locked myself in that room for seven days with Arizona Green Tea, Hot Pockets, and a stack of Spongebob DVDs. My daughter watched from her crib while I recorded inches away. To this day, if you mute certain tracks, you can still hear Spongebob's signature laugh. But that room didn’t limit me. It refined me.

What emerged was 20 tracks of raw, prophetic sound. The cover art depicted me stepping through a tear in spacetime, mohawk aflame, arriving in the present as 2.0. I bartered design work to get the project mastered through Syntax Records. No budget. Just hustle. Submitting to iTunes then meant fighting through gatekeepers, but I pushed it six weeks early and prayed over the upload.

The night before release, we held an album concert at the Joan Kroc Theatre - a divine setup that fell into place through an old theater connect. That night, with a fresh mohawk warrior cut, I stepped out publicly as Two Point Oh for the first time. A digital prophet with analog roots.

The Anti-Virus was a warning in melody, a message to the 2000's church: Evolve your witness or watch your “Christian City” collapse. The back cover painted the metaphor with post-apocalyptic ruins with the Gospel shining through as the true anti-virus.

Collabs with Omega Mythologist, Law the Hybrid, and Korotha Kofé (then Mic Blu) carried deep intention. CDs moved through San Diego. MySpace amplified the buzz. International listeners found me, even before the algorithm wars.

April 12 was an Awakening meeting futurism. This art would be my response to a clarion call to ministry.

2.0

#Nureau #InksetForever