When Avery woke up, all they saw was dark. It was unnerving, but they tried not to panic. They had been assured that there would be a period of adjustment as all the systems came fully online. Instead, Avery took deep breaths to slow their heart rate, and continued to stare and perceive an inky void, hoping that the implants were doing what they were supposed to be doing and marveling at how — without sensation — they did not feel the impulse to blink.
Neural Eye Wiring (“Don’t you want your vision to be as good as NEW?!” the advertisements went) was a technology that allowed for enhanced vision (never worry about astigmatism, keratoconus, detached retinas, or other complicated eye problems again) by replacing organic eyes with ocular implants. The neural wiring fed directly into a sort of receiver implanted into the lateral geniculate nucleus in the thalamus of the brain. The receiver translated the recorded data into a format that the brain could understand before sending it into the visual cortex for processing. The procedure was said to be short, safe, and 98% successful in clinical trials.
When Avery first losing their vision, their experience was more of an annoying blurring in one eye, like not being able to see through a foggy window. Except the fog was in their eyes. By the time they were able to see their doctor, they could no longer see greens and reds and could only really see out of their peripheral vision in their left eye and the problem had spread to their right eye. They had needed to go to the doctor’s office with a friend who stayed with them the whole time because they quite literally couldn’t see where they were going. They were told that they have Hereditary Optic Neuropathy and they could expect to be legally blind within six months to a year.
However, they were told a new procedure had just graduated from clinical trials and was ready for use in the field, it just needed to be approved by FDA. They could join the ongoing studies and have their vision back in a matter of days if their application was approved. When faced with a choice of blindness or…not, obviously Avery chose not.
Now, Avery was wondering if they had actually made the right decision. Everything went so fast, it was hard to ask the right questions, or even know what the right questions were at the time. Because this had come up so quickly, they really hadn’t had time to think about what was going on. Before they knew it, they were signing paperwork and appointments for surgery were being made. Avery felt their pulse accelerate, still staring at nothing. The deep breaths were not helping. They were hyperventilating.
Then, something changed. Avery was still in the dark, but the dark was…different somehow. A different shade of black, maybe? A logo appeared. Visage, by ClarityVision. A Vision-as-a-Service company.
What is “Vision as a service”, Avery wondered as the…screen? slowly brightened. A phrase slowly materialized in front of them in this warm, gray void.
Welcome to NEW!
Experience vision, reimagined
This message slowly faded as the…ambient light? background color?…slowly brightened more. More words apparated.
To unlock the full potential of your NEW implants, please agree to the Enhanced Vision Agreement. This will enable features such as contextual information overlays, real-time language translation, and personalized visual enhancements.
Avery didn’t see any “Enhanced Vision Agreement”, but there seemed to be a floating icon in their vision. Avery also didn’t see anywhere to agree to the agreement. They blinked in confusion and the message disappeared. Apparently, blinking was a form of acknowledgement. Avery wasn’t sure what the message meant about “contextual information overlays” or “personalized visual enhancements”; Avery just wanted to be able to see. They began to worry that what they signed up for (and agreed to?) was perhaps far different than what they anticipated.
As the fog faded into a view of (thankfully) the inside of a medical recovery room, messages began to sprout from the corners of their vision. A message popped up that said “It looks like you just came out of surgery. Would you like to pre-order these painkiller medications?” with a list of over-the-counter anti-inflammatory products like Aspirin and Motrin. Avery blinked in surprise and was shocked when the message disappeared and was replaced by “Order accepted. $7.34 charged for 500mg Motrin. Your order can be picked up at the pharmacy on Level 0.”
“Wait! No, I didn’t…” they said to no one.
A few minutes later, a nurse entered the room. Avery could tell she was a nurse, because a name hung in space next to her, Maya Brooks, RN, MSN, APRN, NP, with some details of her credentials (Master of Science in Nursing from the University of Utah), and a floating LinkedIn badge, presumably for more information.
“How are we doing?” Nurse Brooks said, cheerfully.
“I…fine, I guess? I’m not sure how to turn it off…” Avery was still reeling from the sensory overload and the after-effects of the sedatives.
“Turn what off, hun?” she asked, looking at her clipboard, making adjustments on various monitors and not appearing to be really paying attention to Avery.
“All the…stuff,” Avery tried to explain. “The extra stuff. I’m seeing all these words…”
“Oh, you’ll get used to that,” Nurse Brooks assured them. “It’s overwhelming at first but you’ll adapt. I see you’ve already purchased your post-op meds. That’s great. Those will be available for you at the pharmacy on your way out.”
“Right, about that, I–” Avery tried to explain that they didn’t need the meds, they had plenty of Motrin at home, but Nurse Brooks charged ahead, still looking at the clipboard. Avery noticed there seemed to be something off about the nurse’s eyes, but she hadn’t looked at them yet, so they couldn’t really figure out what was off about them.
“All the paperwork has been added to your MyChart. It’s advised that you take a couple days off from work to adjust to the NEW implants, some patients report some initial confusion. We encourage you to drink lots of water and eat a balanced diet while your body adapts.” This all seemed like standard stuff, Avery was too stunned to respond. They weren’t sure if they would get used to the modals and pop-ups and ads that were already crowding their peripheral vision.
“Now before we check you out, there is one final matter to go over with you and that’s color. Obviously, the coloring isn’t permanent, but in order to change it in the future, you’ll need to make an appointment with your Visage Specialist. Don’t worry, we’ve already assigned you a Specialist and their information will be in your MyChart.”
This was happening too fast. Visage Specialist? Someone who works for the company, Avery guessed? Questions buzzed in their brain but before they could try again to ask how those things could be disabled, Nurse Brooks finally turned her gaze to Avery, and Avery understood what was wrong.
Maya Brooks’ eyes were a gunmetal gray, punctuated by a glowing blue light in the center, where the retina should be. Around the light, in what should be an iris, there was a visible mechanical lens that resembled a camera’s aperture. Avery was alarmed as they saw it contract and expand, shifting focus. The iris was a darker gray, almost black, and the effect was unsettling.
“Welcome to your NEW family!” she said.
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