The Goodness Filter: A Dream That Ought to Be Real
“Darling, remember how you asked me to tell you if I ever heard of someone’s unspoken need? Well, I think I’ve found just that,” Emma paused in the doorway of her husband’s study, her hopeful gaze fixed on him.
“Now you’ve got me curious, love. Go on,” James replied, setting aside his papers.
“Do you know what’s missing most in all this online chatter?” She sat beside him, lowering her voice. “A goodness filter. A sort of ‘light translator’ that turns rudeness, spite, and snark into something respectful and decent. So when you’re scrolling through comments or work emails, you don’t feel like hiding under the duvet.”
“Em, has someone upset you?”
“No, darling, not one person in particular. But lately, while monitoring social media, forums, and work chats, I keep feeling like I’m being drenched in anger, frustration, and aggression. People don’t hold back anymore. They lash out, mock, belittle—like there’s no restraint left.”
She hesitated, her eyes dropping for a moment.
“Sometimes I wonder if it’s just me—if I’ve become too sensitive. But then again, is it really normal to grow used to rudeness as background noise?”
James sighed. He’d seen how Emma spent her days sifting through endless messages, analysing public reactions for her job as an analyst at a major firm.
“Sadly, the loudest voices are often the cruelest. There’ve always been a few, but the internet gives them the perfect breeding ground. Anonymity strips away accountability, leaving nothing but raw emotion. But you’re right. The world’s turning toxic. And your idea—it’s brilliant. Truly. Tell me more—how do you see it working?”
“I’d want it as an app or an extension. Say you’re reading video comments, and they’re automatically transformed—not ‘idiot,’ but ‘I don’t follow your reasoning’; not ‘shut up,’ but ‘perhaps we could consider another angle?’ Can you imagine?”
“Wait—so you’re not suggesting blocking, but rewriting?”
“Exactly! But voluntarily. Users turn the filter on themselves and choose where it applies—maybe just work chats where being constructive matters, or specific sites.”
“What if it worked the other way too? Softening your own messages before you send them?”
“That would be perfect! Because let’s face it, none of us are angels—especially on bad days. Sometimes you just want to vent, then later cringe at what you’ve written. But with the filter—it nudges you: ‘Could this be gentler? Could it be clearer?’ Maybe even suggests better phrasing.”
“Sounds like having a built-in therapist with an autocorrect for kindness. No lectures, just help.”
“Precisely! And it’s got to be seamless—no copying text into separate programs. Everything happens right there on the screen. Peace of mind is a resource, and these days, it’s worth every penny.”
James fell quiet for a moment. Working in IT, he knew Emma’s idea wasn’t just clever—it could change how people experience digital communication altogether.
“We’ll discuss it with the team tomorrow. Definitely. This isn’t just genius—it’s necessary. People need air. Without the poison.”
Emma exhaled, smiling properly for the first time all day.
“Thank you, James. Honestly, I’d started to think I was losing it—dreaming up something impossible. But maybe kindness is just something we forgot. And it’s time to bring it back.”
He stood, pulling her into a tight hug.
“Enough of the nastiness for today. Time to switch on our own goodness filter: quiet, cuddles, tea, and love. No conditions. No arguments. No filters needed.”
She laughed, burying her face in his shoulder.
Outside, keyboards still clattered—someone typing an angry comment, another arguing till they were hoarse. But in that room, an idea had taken root. One that might just change a small corner of the world—and make it a little warmer.
After all, kindness isn’t outdated. Sometimes, it just needs a reminder to shine.
