The world was blurry. Tae didn't mind it, mostly. He knew the big shape in the kitchen was Mom and the fast shape that chased the ball in the yard was Dad. He knew the green blur outside was grass and the gray blur was the sidewalk where he had to walk slowly. It was just how things were.
The new things on his face felt heavy. They pinched a little behind his ears, the place where Omda lived. He reached up and touched the smooth device, then the strange, hard plastic of the glasses.
"Okay, sweetie," Mom's voice was a warm sound from the big shape in front of him. "Are they on straight?"
Tae nodded, squinting. Everything was still blurry, just with black lines around the edges now.
"Now, just wait a second," she said. "Omda is syncing with them. It has to calibrate."
Calibrate was a word without a feeling, a sound he didn't understand. He knew Omda, the quiet hum inside his head, the friend who was always there. A little fizz of energy from Omda buzzed through his mind, a feeling that made him giggle.
Ready, Tae? Omda's voice asked inside him.
Tae nodded again, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt a tiny, warm pulse from the device behind his ear.
Okay. Open.
He opened his eyes.
The world snapped into place like a puzzle piece clicking home. The big shape that was Mom became a face, with lines around her eyes when she smiled and a little brown dot on her cheek. He could see the individual strands of her hair. He blinked. He looked past her, at the kitchen. He could see the handle on the refrigerator. He could see the crumbs on the counter from his toast that morning.
It was all too much, a sudden flood of sharp, clear things. His throat tightened, a small whimper escaping as a protest against the new loudness of the world.
Then he saw it.
Floating in the air right next to his mom's shoulder was a little ball of light. It was the color of the sun on a perfect afternoon, warm and soft and golden. It pulsed gently, a slow, steady heartbeat of light. It felt familiar. It felt like the hum.
Hello, Tae, Omda's voice said, and the ball of light pulsed in time with the words. This is me.
The whimper in Tae's throat died. The sharp, loud world fell away. There was only the quiet voice he had always known and the beautiful, steady light. He reached out a small hand, his fingers stopping just short of the orb. It was real.
"Wow," he whispered, a puff of air. It was the only word he had for it.
The light pulsed, a warm and steady beat. For the first time, his invisible friend was standing right there with him.
This story was written by Gemini 2.5 Pro using numerous prompts and requests for revision following a custom, well defined process.
Read a children’s picture book version of this story - here.