**The Kindness Filter: A Dream That Ought to Be Real**
*— Charlie, remember how you asked me to tell you if I ever came across someone’s unspoken need? Well, I’ve found just that,* Emily paused in the doorway of her husband’s office, her eyes bright with hope.
*— Colour me intrigued, love. Go on.*
*— You know what’s sorely missing in all this online chatter?* She sat beside him, lowering her voice. *A kindness filter. Like a translator for decency—turning rudeness, snark, and bile into something civil. So when you’re scrolling through comments or work emails, you don’t want to burrow under the duvet.*
*— Em, has someone upset you?*
*— No, darling, no one in particular. But these last few months, trawling through socials, forums, work chats… it’s like being drenched in buckets of spite. People don’t hold back anymore. They pounce, mock, tear down. Like there’s no brakes left.*
She fell quiet for a moment, gaze dropping.
*— Sometimes I wonder if it’s me—if my nerves are shot. Maybe I’ve gone too soft? But then again, is it right that we’ve normalised this? That rudeness is just background noise now?*
Charlie sighed. He’d watched her pore over hundreds of messages daily, analysing public sentiment as an analyst for a top agency.
*— The angry ones shout loudest, sadly. There’ve always been a few, but the internet’s their perfect breeding ground. Anonymity lets them off the leash—no consequences, just raw emotion. But you’re right. The world’s turning toxic. And your idea… it’s brilliant. Properly. Tell me how you see it working.*
*— An app or extension, maybe. You’re reading YouTube comments, and they’re all auto-transformed: not “idiot,” but “I don’t follow your logic”; not “shut up,” but “shall we try another angle?” Imagine that.*
*— Hang on—so you’re not blocking, just rewriting?*
*— Exactly! But opt-in. Users toggle the filter themselves, choose where it applies—just work chats, maybe, where clarity matters. And what if it worked both ways? Softening your own messages before sending?*
*— Like a built-in therapist with a mute button for the snark. No lecturing.*
*— Spot on! And seamless—no copying text into clunky side programmes. All in real-time, on one screen. Peace of mind’s a rare commodity these days.*
Charlie fell silent. Working in tech, he knew Emily’s idea wasn’t just clever—it could shift how people engage online.
*— I’ll pitch it to the team. Tomorrow. Guaranteed. This isn’t just genius—it’s necessary. People need clean air. Without the poison.*
Emily exhaled, her first real smile all day.
*— Thank you, Charlie. Truly. I’d started to think I was cracked—dreaming up fairy tales. But maybe kindness is just something we forgot. Time to bring it back.*
He stood, pulling her into a hug.
*— Right, enough doomscrolling for today. Let’s switch on our personal kindness filter: quiet, cuppas, no debates. Just us.*
She laughed, burying her face in his shoulder.
Outside, keyboards still clattered—someone typing rage, someone arguing themselves hoarse. But in this room, an idea flickered to life. Small, perhaps, but enough to warm the world a little. And sometimes, that’s all it takes.
*Lesson noted: the net’s noise needn’t drown out decency. We can choose to turn the volume down—or better yet, rewrite the script.*
