Look, I’ll admit it. My relationship with technology is... complicated. I don’t trust the cloud (it’s just someone else’s computer crying in a warehouse). I side-eye every Terms of Service agreement. And don’t get me started on cookies. So when my friend, let’s call him “Crypto Kevin,” started raving about an “AI-native blockchain” called Vanar, I prepared my finest eye-roll.
“It’s a blockchain that understands stuff!” he said, spilling his craft IPA.
“Great,” I replied. “So instead of just losing my data, it can write me a polite apology note before the server farm burns down?”
But Kevin, in his infinite, hodling wisdom, dared me to just look at one thing: their myNeutron.ai app. It claimed to be a “personal AI memory.” Sounded dystopian. I signed up out of spite.
The first thing I did was upload a PDF of my ancient, tragically complex lease agreement. My landlord’s idea of a “routine inspection” is suspiciously flexible. I typed: “Explain clause 4-B about ‘reasonable wear and tear’ in language for someone who thinks a stud finder is a dating app.”
Instead of giving me a link to a legal dictionary, the thing summarized it in plain English. It highlighted the vague parts. It was like having a snarky, over-caffeinated lawyer in my pocket who worked for fractions of a penny. A flicker of… not trust, but suspicious curiosity ignited.
Next, I got bold. I fed it the 15-page spec sheet for a new bike I’ll never afford. Then I uploaded a video of that weird clicking sound my actual bike makes. I asked: “Are these compatible, or am I about to cause a catastrophic mechanical event?”
The AI (which I’ve named “Vern”) didn’t just say no. It pulled specs from the PDF, likely “listened” to the audio frequencies in the video, and wrote back: “Based on the bottom bracket standard in the spec sheet and the 120Hz clicking frequency in your video, the proposed component is incompatible. The sound suggests a worn bearing, not a compatibility issue. Recommended action: Purchase part #BB -93, not the new bike. Save $2,400.”
I sat there, stunned. This wasn’t a chatbot. This was a blockchain-based mechanic who just saved me from financial ruin. Vern wasn’t hosted on some tech giant’s server I couldn’t audit; its “reasoning” was powered by Vanar’s Kayon AI, and the evidence (my files) were compressed into tiny, tamper-proof seeds on the chain via Neutron.
The Realization: Vanar isn’t selling me a dream of a “decentralized future.” It’s selling me a competent digital employee who doesn’t take lunch breaks, can’t lie about what’s in my files, and whose work is permanently verified on a public ledger. For a skeptic like me, that’s the only sales pitch that works. I’m not trusting a corporation. I’m trusting a transparent, automated process.
I might still have trust issues. But now, I have a place to direct them where the answers are verifiable. My therapist is intrigued. Crypto Kevin is insufferably smug.
