A hand-built pair of glasses that, at any moment, draws the only three actions worth taking onto the inside of a lens. Shipping in cohorts of three. The first ones leave the studio in Q4.
The instrument itself. Hand-built. Pre-calibrated to your gait, posture, and resting attention.
A small honed-brass cradle. Wireless. Quiet. Sits beside the bed; charges in 38 minutes.
Slow-felted Himalayan wool, dyed with iron oxide. Pocket-sized. No closure but its own weight.
Send the lens back any year, any reason. We adjust the inference to who you've become since.
$215 holds your place in cohort A. Fully refundable until the kit leaves the studio. No payment instrument is stored.
A short, paper letter arrives asking for three measurements and one quiet hour with a hand-mirror. No selfie required.
Your remaining balance settles. The six hands finish your specific Mk I — engraving, lens calibration, final inspection.
Hand-wrapped, hand-delivered where possible. One slow afternoon with the instrument before it asks anything of you.
No. The lens does not overlay video on the world. It draws — sparingly, in a soft retinal glyph — only the next three actions and only when asked. The world remains the world.
No camera. No microphone for the cloud. The temple contains only inward-facing sensors (gaze, gait, micro-tremor, breath). No recording leaves the lens.
The instrument processes everything on the temple and forgets each session at sundown. Anonymous, opt-in field reports are the only thing that ever reach the studio.
Then you ignore it. The lens proposes; it never compels. We measure ourselves by the proportion of proposals you reject — a healthy wearer rejects roughly one in four.
Coherence is a two-body problem before it is a many-body one. Every Mk I ships with a partner unit to give to someone you wish to walk more clearly beside.
October through December · 2150. We do not split this further until we know which afternoon the six hands will finish your specific instrument.
A short paper letter is on its way. You will not hear from a machine again — only from one of the six hands, at the next genuine threshold of your instrument.