The heat in the small kitchen was suffocating.

  “What are you doing without your cane?” croaked his grandmother as soon as she saw him come in from the hallway.

  She shuffled toward him. “And your pants? Look at this! What have you done, fallen again?” she yelled, drowning out the noise of the TV.

  Nico clenched his jaw and shook his head but didn't answer.

  Mrs. Duro was a short, round woman. She wore her salt-and-pepper hair in a bun; her face, round and reddened by the kitchen stove, was marked by a dense web of wrinkles.

  “Well, what are you doing, aren't you going to answer? Did you come down without your cane again? You know that leg can't support you. Sit down, come on,” she concluded, pointing to the chair.

  Nico sniffed and sat down. His left leg gave him a painful twinge as he sat down and remained stiff to one side, forcing him to pull it toward him with both hands to fit it better into the cramped space.

  “Ah, you see, this arrived this morning while you were at school,” said his grandmother, shuffling out of the kitchen with her crooked legs forming an oval.

  “It's no use keeping quiet, I'll find out if you've fallen, you know,” she said from the hallway.

  Nico laughed, a bitter smile. His grandmother had two enormous ears, ready to pick up any information even from a hundred meters away... too bad that when it came to Bruno beating him up, they suddenly stopped working.

  When his grandmother returned, she had a package in her hands.

  He handed it to her along with the stick he had thrown in the hallway when he came home after being beaten up at school.

  “What is it?” Nico asked, grabbing the two objects; he put down the stick and studied the package with a frown.

  “How should I know? Did you buy something on Intellet?” croaked his grandmother, her eyes as big as saucers.

  “No, Grandma,” he replied irritably, running a hand over his face. “Explain to me how I could have done that, since I don't have a PC or a tablet, and my cell phone isn't even enabled for online browsing.”

  “First of all,” said his grandmother, leaning over the table and staring at him over her enormous square glasses, “don't get me worked up with these big words, or I won't be able to digest them. And how do I know what you're up to with your cousin? He gets a lot of stuff from Intellet.”

  Nico took a deep breath: “It's called the Internet,” then shook his head, not wanting to argue.

  He turned the package over in his hands to examine it, while his grandmother placed a steaming terracotta bowl full of gnocchi in front of him. Nico was hit by a wave of heat and moved slightly away from the table.

  The package was a brown cardboard box, slightly larger than his head. He checked the sender, convinced that they had delivered it to the wrong apartment and that it was addressed to his cousin, but it was indeed for him, Nicola Duro. The sender was a company: I & M S.r.l.

  Pensive, he shoveled a forkful of gnocchi into his mouth without thinking, and the heat hit him like a blast of fire. He immediately opened his mouth like a fish, gasping in the hope that the air would extinguish the fire on his tongue.

  “I made minestrone too,” croaked his grandmother, drowning out the TV as she shuffled around the kitchen. “It's for Aunt Flora. You know she goes on a diet when summer comes.”

  Nico nodded and took a sip of water to refresh his mouth. “Ah, okay,” he said absentmindedly, pulling the tape that sealed the package.

  “Besides, what does my daughter need to lose weight for? She's all skin and bones.”

  Nico nodded distractedly. It was strange. He had never received a package in his life. He frowned as the idea that it was a joke by Bruno flashed through his mind. He hesitated, the tape torn in half, but he couldn't know without opening it, so he continued to pull it off.

  “The gnocchi, on the other hand, I made for Uncle Dario and Bruno,” continued his grandmother. “You know Uncle doesn't like to eat without salt.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Nico held his breath as he opened the box. The contents were covered; he removed the thin sheet of polystyrene that protected them, narrowing his eyes to two slits.

  A sheet of paper slipped onto the floor.

  His eyes darted to his grandmother, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed that she was distracted by the TV as she wolfed down forkfuls of gnocchi.

  He bent down quickly and grabbed it.

  He read:

  "Welcome. This device is designed to offer a unique immersive experience.

  It requires no external power supply or internet connection.

  Put it on. Let the world change."

  His stomach tightened with excitement as his fingers clenched the paper, as if he feared it might disappear.

  His mind raced, trying to figure out if it was a joke. He placed the paper on the table and, with trembling hands, looked inside the box.

  He glimpsed a small black velvet box, similar to a jewelry case, but he didn't dare take it out. A symbol was engraved on a metal plate: something between a stylized eye and a labyrinth, he had never seen it before. He touched it with his thumb: the metal was smooth and cold, then a blue glow flashed for a moment. She heard a click and recoiled, her stomach tightening in a mixture of excitement and fear.

  “Come on, are you going to get rid of that box?” her grandmother shouted irritably.

  “Yes, sorry...” she said, trying not to let the tremor in her voice show as she hid the package under her chair.

  “But what am I supposed to do? I have to cook like this, my blood pressure is going up!” croaked his grandmother, shoving another forkful of gnocchi into her mouth.

  Nico's forehead was beaded with sweat and his hands were trembling slightly. He couldn't believe what was happening to him and his heart was pounding in his chest, not knowing whether the feeling was fear or wonder. It seemed as if the world had decided to change direction at that very moment.

  “Nico? Nico?”

  “Eh, what is it?” he mumbled, rolling out of his thoughts.

  “So? What's in the box?” asked his grandmother, stuffing a forkful of gnocchi into her mouth.

  His blood ran cold. If he was right, it was a piece of technology, something illegal in that house. Suddenly, he had a stroke of genius and lied without thinking too much about it. “Um, you know, the new school,” he mumbled. “They're books.”

  Nico entered his room, struggling to hold the package under one arm and his cane in the other. With a flick of his hip, he closed the door behind him and locked it with the key, then placed the package on the bed and closed the window shutters, fearing that someone, somewhere, might be snooping.

  In the dim light of the afternoon rays filtering through the cracks, Nico picked up the package and sat down on the chair. He glanced at the desk: books were everywhere, stacked haphazardly, open halfway. He had always dreamed of a computer or video games to break the monotony, but his grandmother didn't want “that devilry” in the house. So instead of playing video games like all the other kids his age, he spent his time reading.

  That's how he realized that not having parents wasn't so unusual after all. Every good book always has an orphan in it.

  He shook his head as his stomach tightened, reminding him of that loss. Sometimes it seemed to him that his life had not gone wrong by chance, but that somewhere someone had decided on the minimum price and the bill had come to him.

  He shook his head, chasing away those sad thoughts, and stubbornly swept all the books aside with one arm, placing the box on his desk.

  He reverently placed the dark velvet package on the desk, leaving the cardboard box on the floor, and, positioning the stylized eye logo in front of him, tried to open it, but nothing happened. His heart began to pound in his chest as his stomach contracted in a painful spasm. He turned the box over in his hands until his thumb touched the symbol. The imprint triggered a small click that opened the black velvet box. He nodded sadly as he looked at the small engraved plate and assumed that it had recorded his thumbprint: the box would only open for him.

  He breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed the muscles that had been tense until a moment before.

  He opened the box, which lifted smoothly upward, revealing a viewer inside.

  With her lips parted and her breath caught in her throat, Nico stared at the object: the visor was not like the ones she had seen in advertising flyers or spied on at Bruno's house. It was dark, opaque, with metallic reflections that seemed to change slightly depending on the angle.

  The structure was slender, with soft curves that seemed designed to blend in with the face. He grabbed it with trembling fingers, turning it over in his hands, and noticed that it was warm to the touch, as if someone had been using it until recently.

  A tiny engraving, the same stylized eye, emitted a faint blue glow where the back of his head should have been. There were no visible buttons, no cables, no instructions.

  He shook his head and laughed in amazement. Perhaps it was a beta test for some big video game company and he had been selected from among many, but he shook his head, dismissing that hypothesis: he had no gaming accounts in his name.

  He realized with a shudder that, even though he knew nothing about the object, he felt the urge to put it on and explore where the headset would take him.

  A sharp whistle from the courtyard brought him back to his hated reality.

  [AUTHOR'S NOTE]

  Log updated: reader input required for narrative optimization. Comments and ratings increase the efficiency of the narrative flow.

  Next logs scheduled: Monday and Thursday.

  Continuity of the story dependent on the level of support received.

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