The lowest-denomination Greek coin, made of bronze or silver. In life, an obol bought a loaf of bread or a cup of wine — barely enough to register. In death, it bought passage.
The Greeks placed an obol on the eyes (or under the tongue) of their dead. The river Styx, which separates the world from the underworld, has only one ferryman: Charon, gaunt and unsmiling. He doesn’t work for free. A soul without a coin wandered the bank for a hundred years before he relented.
It’s a small image with a heavy weight: every life ends owing a small fee, and someone has to pay it for you. The Retold uses obol as the name of the platform’s engagement currency — a quiet nod to the same idea: small acts of presence, accumulated, are what get you across.