Brian woke up earlier than usual that morning, his mind already half-alert from the restless night before. The moment he opened his eyes, his thoughts went straight to the package that was being delivered this morning.

His manager, Alex, had been skeptical but curious about the company.

So when the follow-up email arrived last night saying the package would be delivered before dawn, Brian couldn't help but frown.

"Who ships tech at four in the morning?" he muttered to himself.

But now, standing barefoot in his hallway at 5:02 a.m., he realized the question didn't matter. Besides, he was curious about Nova — the mysterious company behind the product

All he was hoping for, was to not be disappointed or he'd drag the company and the product through the mud for putting him through all these inconvenience for nothing.

The doorbell rang once and his phone buzzed immediately after, with a message from Alex:

"It's here."

Brian exhaled slowly, rubbed his eyes, and shuffled toward the door. The morning was still dark; the first light of dawn hadn't even brushed the horizon yet. He opened the door carefully.

There was no van or courier in sight, just a small, black rectangular box sitting neatly on his doorstep, not a speck of dust on it.

He stepped outside, scanning the empty street. The air was still. The cul-de-sac was silent. There were no receding footsteps or taillights disappearing in the distance. It was as though the package had simply materialized at his doorstep.

Brian crouched and picked it up. The box was cold, smooth, and light.

"Okay… creepy and impressive," he muttered, carrying it inside.

He closed the door with his elbow and walked toward his recording setup in the studio room. The ring light on his desk still glowed faintly from last night's shoot. As he moved, he turned the box slowly in his hands, studying it.

It wasn't wrapped in plastic or sealed with tape. The box itself was the product—matte black, reflective under certain angles. A subtle design etched into its surface caught his attention: a luminous spiral pattern shaped like a quasar, the kind he'd seen in astronomy documentaries, faintly glowing with hints of shifting color.

Beneath it, in clean silver lettering, one single word: LUCID.

Brian's eyebrows lifted when he saw this.

"So that's your name, huh?" he murmured. "Lucid."

There was no branding, tagline or image of the device, making him curious about why a company that claims to have achieved what the top tech companies in the world couldn't achieve, didn't put an image of the product on the box.

He scoffed at the question, as he sat down at his desk, placed the box carefully in front of the camera, and adjusted his lighting.

"Alright," he said under his breath, taking a sip of water to clear his throat. "Let's see what the fuss is about."

The red recording light blinked to life.

"Hey everyone, it's Brian here," he began, his tone professional but warm. "So, this one's weird. No intro trailer today, because this box just arrived — literally minutes ago. It's from a company called Nova, which, as far as I can tell is rather new startup."

He tapped the lid lightly with his fingers. "Now, I've reviewed a lot of products before but this one takes the crown for the most mysterious delivery I've ever received."

He paused, giving the camera a half-smile. "They paid full upfront for a review slot, asked for an immediate unboxing upon arrival, and gave me absolutely no info about what's inside. I'm hoping it's not a bomb or alien tech. Either way, we're finding out together."

His viewers loved moments like this—raw, unscripted, first-contact excitement.

He turned the box toward the camera, showing off the quasar pattern. "You guys see that? This is not a sticker. That glow? That's built into the box itself. It reacts to light—look at that gradient shift. I have no idea what material this is."

He slid a finger over the engraved LUCID logo. "And the texture—smooth, but not metallic. It's… cool to the touch."

He leaned closer, grinning slightly. "Alright, here we go."

He lifted the lid and he saw the content of the box.

Resting perfectly centered inside the black foam padding was what looked like a pair of sunglasses.

Brian blinked in confusion.

"That's it?" he muttered, glancing at the card again before focusing back on the glasses.

He picked them up carefully. They were lightweight — too light for something supposedly high-tech. The frame was sleek, matte black, and minimal. The lenses looked nothing more than those of ordinary sunglasses.

"Okay, so this looks like something out of a sci-fi movie," Brian said, turning it over in his hands. "No ports, no buttons, nothing. Usually, even concept devices have a charging dock or at least a power indicator."

He set it down gently. "If this is supposed to be a smart wearable, I don't even see how it's supposed to power on."

He checked under the foam padding, but there was nothing. No cables, instruction manuals or charger.

He laughed quietly, rubbing his temple. "Alright, Nova, you're playing games. This is either genius minimalism or I've just been trolled by the most expensive prank in tech history."

Still, curiosity burned in his chest. He picked up the glasses again, studied them closer.

"Okay, so… no buttons. Maybe gesture control? Voice activation?" he muttered, then, half-jokingly, "Power on?"

But nothing happened.

He exhaled and tried something else. "Activate Lucid?"

Still nothing.

A moment passed. He smiled helplessly to the camera. "Yeah, guys, this is going to make a great blooper reel. I have no idea how this thing works."

But then — because reviewers never quit until they break something—he decided to wear them.

The moment the lenses slid over his eyes, Brian froze as his vision was instantly filled with motion — an explosion of color and light.

A swirling quasar formed before him, glowing with impossible brilliance, expanding outward as if the universe itself had come alive inside his skull.

"What the—" he gasped, tearing the glasses off.

His heart thudded, as he stared at the sleek frame in disbelief.

"Did that just… happen?" he whispered, looking from the glasses to the camera.

It was still rolling.

He leaned closer to the lens. "Guys, I swear I just saw something. I didn't even press anything."

After a long moment, he laughed nervously. "Alright. Let's try that again."

He slid them back on and the quasar returned. Then it started rotating faster, the light became brighter and the depth infinite. It felt like looking through a telescope into creation itself.

The animation zoomed outward, stars and galaxies spiraling around him. The detail was so real that he instinctively reached out a hand, half expecting to touch the starlight.

Then came the shift, as the galaxies collapsed into a black hole, light curving, reality bending and his vision darkened.

A soft chime echoed in his head, followed by a clean, synthetic voice.

{Initializing neural interface. Please grant permission for neurosync and retina scan.}

Brian's breath caught. "Neurosync?" he whispered. "Wait—what?"

He blinked rapidly. The message hovered in the air before him like a hologram. He tried to look away, but it followed his gaze.

{Grant permission?} {YES / NO}

He hesitated for a moment, then curiosity won.

"Yes," he said softly.

Instantly, the interface responded, as the darkness cleared and Brian was standing in a room. It was a vast, glasslike lobby bathed in soft light.

"Where… am I?" he whispered.

A translucent menu appeared in front of him:

{Welcome, User.}

{Please create your character profile to proceed.}

His hands trembled slightly. "This can't be real," he muttered. "This looks like a VR simulation —nbut I'm not wearing anything but the glasses."

The reviewer instincts kicked in again. He needed to document this. He reached up to remove the glasses and in an instant, he was back in his studio. The transition was seamless.

He looked around, still catching his breath. "Alright… that's enough for part one," he said quietly to the camera. "We're going to need a new video for this."

***

Minutes later, Brian hit record again.

"Okay, guys. Round two. Whatever this thing is—it's not AR, not VR. It's something else entirely."

He slid the glasses back on. Instantly, he was back in the glowing lobby and the menu awaited him.

He focused on the floating text and thought of his name. And the menu blinked.

{Will you like to set your character profile name as Brian Carter?}

{YES / NO}

His jaw dropped, as he muttered to himself "No typing? No voice commands? It's reading my thoughts?"

The thought of it itself was scary but also very interesting. He smiled to himself and choose the 'Yes' option.

{User profile created: Brian Carter.}

Immediately, another line appeared.

{Would you like to create your avatar?}

{YES / NO}

"Yes," he thought.

The next moment, in front of him, light gathered and formed into shape — a man. His own face. His own eyes.

A perfect digital replica of himself stood before him, wearing the same shirt he'd put on that morning.

He thought of moving his hand and the replica avatar moved its hand, mirroring his thoughts.

He looked down at his digital hands.

"I can feel this…" he whispered. "I can actually feel this."

Around him, the empty lobby was now filled with new icons that appeared in doors.

"Are they games? So, this is a gaming device?" He muttered to himself, as he observed the icons.

Brian's voice trembled as he spoke, almost to himself.

"Unbelievable," he murmured, his tone a mix of awe and disbelief. Then, louder, with a stunned smile spreading across his face:

"Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable."

He hadn't even tested the games yet, and he was already stunned. Just how much more will be be shocked when he starts testing them?

Though the icons didn't look familiar to those of popular games, Brian was sure that no matter how bad the games are, the device will make up for that. He can already imagining the big game companies rushing to put their games on the device.

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