The Goodness Filter: A Dream That Needs to Happen
“Sasha, darling, remember how you asked me to tell you if I ever heard about someone’s unspoken need? Well, I’ve got one,” Rita paused in the doorway of her husband’s office, gazing at him hopefully.
“Colour me intrigued, love. Go on.”
“You know what’s missing in all this online noise?” She sat beside him and lowered her voice. “A goodness filter. Like a ‘kindness translator’—something that turns rudeness, snark, and outright cruelty into something respectful and decent. So you could read comments or work emails without wanting to burrow under the duvet.”
“Rita, has someone upset you?”
“Not one person, no. But lately, scrolling through socials, work chats, forums—it’s like being drenched in buckets of anger and spite. People don’t hold back anymore. They lash out, mock, tear each other down. Like there’s no brake pedal left.”
She hesitated, dropping her gaze.
“Sometimes I wonder if it’s just me—if I’ve become too sensitive. But is it really normal to get used to rudeness like it’s just background noise?”
Sasha sighed. He’d seen her plough through dozens of messages daily, analysing public reactions for her job as a market researcher.
“The loudest ones are always the angriest,” he said. “There aren’t many of them, but the internet’s their perfect playground. Anonymity makes it easy—no consequences, just raw emotion. But you’re right. The world’s getting toxic. And your idea? Brilliant. Tell me more—how do you see it working?”
“I’d want it as an app or browser extension. Say you’re reading YouTube comments—everything gets transformed automatically. Not ‘idiot,’ but ‘I see it differently.’ Not ‘shut up,’ but ‘let’s discuss this.’ Can you imagine?”
“Wait, so you’re not blocking—you’re _rewriting_?”
“Exactly! But voluntarily. Users toggle the filter themselves, choose where it works—maybe just work chats where civility matters, maybe certain sites.”
“What if it worked the other way too? Softening your own messages before you send them?”
“Even better! Let’s be honest—we’re not always saints, especially on stressful days. Sometimes you just want to vent, then later cringe at what you wrote. But this could nudge you: ‘Maybe rephrase?’ or ‘Try this instead.’ Like a built-in sanity check.”
“Sounds like a therapist crossed with autocorrect. But less preachy.”
“Spot on! And it has to work seamlessly—no copying text into separate apps. Just… instant calm. Peace of mind’s a luxury these days.”
Sasha fell quiet. As a software developer, he knew Rita’s idea could be more than clever—it could shift how people interacted online.
“I’ll run this by the team tomorrow. It’s genius. And needed. People deserve oxygen. Without the poison.”
Rita exhaled, grinning properly for the first time that day.
“Thanks, Sasha. Truly. I was starting to think I’d lost the plot—dreaming up something impossible. But maybe kindness is just… what we forgot. And it’s time to bring it back.”
He stood, pulling her into a hug.
“Enough doomscrolling for today. Time for our own goodness filter: silence, cuddles, tea, and love. No conditions. No arguments. No filters.”
She laughed, burying her face in his shoulder.
Outside, keyboards still clattered—someone typing rage into a comment, another arguing till they were blue in the face. But in that room, an idea was taking shape. One that might change just a tiny corner of the world. And maybe, just maybe, make it a little warmer.
