We use the block chain to share value, just like Internet

Host: The office was almost empty, the city lights below blinking like a network of tiny codes, alive with a kind of digital pulse. Through the glass walls, the skyline shimmered, cold and mechanical, yet oddly beautiful. The hum of servers filled the room — low, steady, almost like breathing.

Jack sat before a monitor wall, lines of data scrolling across in streams of blue and green. Jeeny stood by the window, her reflection glowing faintly in the glass, eyes full of both wonder and doubt.

It was past midnight. The screens looked like stars, and in their glow, two humans wrestled with a question older than technology itself — whether connection built by machines could ever equal connection born of hearts.

Jeeny: “Jeremy Allaire once said, ‘We use the blockchain to share value, just like Internet protocol lets us share communication. Our goal is to build a global, international bank that is instant, global, and free. Sending payments should be as easy as sending an email.’”

Jack: (without looking up) “And he’s right. That’s progress. The old world ran on borders and bureaucracy. This one runs on code. Instant, efficient, incorruptible.”

Host: The server fans whirred, pulsing like an invisible heartbeat. A single light blinked red — an error signal — before turning green again.

Jeeny: “Incorruptible? You really believe that, Jack? The same code that promises freedom can also trap us. Every time we make things instant, we make people invisible.”

Jack: “No. We make them equal. The blockchain doesn’t care where you’re from, who you are, or what your bank account says. It just moves value — clean, transparent, democratic.”

Jeeny: “Democratic? Tell that to the kid in rural India without internet access. Or the old woman in Ghana who doesn’t trust a machine to hold her savings. Equality isn’t code, Jack — it’s culture, empathy, access.”

Host: A neon billboard flickered outside the window, reflecting the words “Future of Money” across Jack’s face. His gray eyes caught the light, metallic, intense.

Jack: “You always want the world to move at the speed of emotion, Jeeny. But the world moves at the speed of data. Blockchain isn’t a fantasy — it’s architecture. The way the Internet made us share words, blockchain will make us share wealth. That’s evolution.”

Jeeny: “Evolution without humanity is just automation. You’re mistaking motion for meaning. Sure, you can send money instantly. But what happens when you forget the story behind it? When giving becomes just another transaction?”

Jack: “You think stories feed people? Code does. Systems do. You romanticize the past, but the truth is, millions still suffer because of how slow and broken our old financial networks are. Blockchain could change that overnight. No middlemen. No greed.”

Jeeny: (turns from the window) “No accountability, either. When you remove human faces, you remove human responsibility. Who do you call when code fails? Who do you trust when the ledger says zero?”

Host: The rain began, sliding down the windows like threads of glass. The city lights blurred, merging into abstract rivers of gold and blue.

Jack: “You sound like the people who feared the Internet in the ’90s. ‘It will destroy books, destroy jobs, destroy connection.’ But look — we’re more connected than ever.”

Jeeny: “Are we? We talk in messages and emojis, but not with voices. We send love in bytes and lose the warmth of touch. Connection without presence isn’t connection — it’s simulation.”

Host: Jack spun his chair, facing her now. His face half-lit, half-shadowed.

Jack: “Maybe simulation is enough. Maybe it’s better. Cleaner. No lies, no corruption, no emotions to distort the transaction. Just truth written in code — immutable.”

Jeeny: “Truth written by whom? Every algorithm has an author. Every system reflects its maker’s bias. Even the blockchain. You call it immutable, but what it really is — is immortal. It outlives our mistakes.”

Host: Silence stretched between them. The servers hummed louder, the lights flickered again — like the system itself was listening.

Jack: “So what do you want, Jeeny? To keep wiring money across borders for days? To let people pay forty dollars in fees to feed their families? The old system was built on exclusion. Blockchain tears that down.”

Jeeny: “And builds something new — but not necessarily better. Technology doesn’t liberate people, Jack. People liberate people. Blockchain is just a mirror. If we feed it greed, it scales greed. If we feed it empathy, it scales empathy. The code doesn’t decide — we do.”

Host: Her voice softened, trembling slightly, not from fear but conviction. Jack watched her, then leaned back, running his hand over his face, as if to wipe away a thought he couldn’t escape.

Jack: “You know… sometimes I wonder if maybe you’re right. Maybe I built all this to replace something I lost. To make the world predictable. Because people aren’t. People break promises. Code doesn’t.”

Jeeny: “But code can’t keep them either. It can only record that they were broken.”

Host: The rain intensified, the rhythm steady, a metallic percussion on the window glass. Outside, the city pulsed like a living organism — cars flowing like neurons through streets of steel.

Jeeny: “You know what’s beautiful about what Allaire said? Not the part about banks or speed — but the comparison. He saw the Internet as communication, blockchain as value. He wasn’t building a machine. He was building a bridge.”

Jack: “A bridge to what?”

Jeeny: “To trust. To the possibility that value could move as freely as words — and maybe, someday, that both could carry compassion instead of profit.”

Host: Jack stared at the screens — streams of transactions flowing endlessly, numbers flashing, symbols shifting — a living map of the human desire to connect.

Jack: “Trust. Funny word. The whole point of blockchain is that we don’t need it anymore.”

Jeeny: “No, Jack. It’s that we redefine it. We move it from institutions to individuals. From contracts to conscience.”

Host: The power flickered once more, the lights dimming to a faint, pulsing blue. The servers whispered like distant waves.

Jeeny: “Maybe someday, sending value will be as easy as sending love. But until then, we have to remember who we’re building for — not just users, but human beings.”

Jack: (after a pause) “So the real blockchain… isn’t made of code?”

Jeeny: (smiles faintly) “No. It’s made of people. Each transaction a choice. Each choice a reflection.”

Host: The rain slowed, the servers quieted, the screens softened their glow. Jack and Jeeny stood side by side now, looking out over the electric city, its light stretching endlessly like a digital horizon — beautiful, fragile, infinite.

Jack: “Maybe progress isn’t about making things instant. Maybe it’s about remembering what should never be automated.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. We don’t just send payments, Jack. We send pieces of ourselves.”

Host: The camera pulls back, the window fogged with breath, the city lights shimmering in reflection — two faces, side by side, human amidst the hum of machines.

And in that glow, between code and heartbeat, they understood what Jeremy Allaire meant — not just to make money move faster, but to make trust, connection, and value flow as easily as a single act of communication.

To build a world where the currency isn’t just digital — it’s human.