“I don’t need to know your name,” he said. “I just need to know you have one.” They tapped their phones together. He seemed happy with what his phone screen said. She liked this approach. She wished other conversations worked this way.
She walked into the room. Her score dropped by two points. She hadn’t even said anything yet. The man at the desk said it was nothing personal. “It’s just… your face.” He said it may help if she could prove her kindness using the zero knowledge verified log.
She showed him the time she rescued the dog. He asked if she had anything more recent.
She wanted to join the club. They said they didn’t need to know her income.
Just whether she had ever laughed at someone poorer.
She submitted the proof.
It was almost good enough.
The therapist didn’t ask why she was sad. He asked if she could prove she had tried to stop being sad in the last week. She tapped her screen and pointed it towards the therapist.
He nodded, “That’s enough for this week.”
The cashier stared at him.
“It’s declined. You don’t have proof you like organic coffee.”
“But I do,” he insisted.
“Not convincing enough,” she replied, handing back his card. “There is a shortage in organic coffee because of the trade wars”, she said. They were only selling it to the true connoisseurs.
Her mother asked if she had anything to hide.
She tapped the phone. It confirmed she did.
Her mother nodded approvingly.
“It’s healthy to have secrets,” she said.
He checked into the hotel.
The receptionist didn’t ask for identification.
“Just confirm you’ve never stolen towels,” he said.
The man paused.
“It doesn’t have to be towels from here,” the receptionist clarified.
The man hesitated, and then walked away slowly.
Her friend wanted proof she was listening.
She tapped her phone screen. The friend looked closely.
“It just says you heard noises,” the friend complained.
“That’s accurate,” she replied.