The chrome sphere scans your iris and gives you tokens. They call this "proof of personhood." My subconscious had notes.
It was late. My wife was asleep beside me, kids down the hall. I'd been scrolling through an MIT Technology Review investigation on my phone. Something about a cryptocurrency company scanning irises in dozens of countries, including the US. The details kept getting stranger. Operators paid 88 cents per person recruited. Representatives using deceptive marketing. The phrase "cheaper and easier in places where people have little money and few legal protections" blurring on the screen.My eyes were closing. The phone tilted in my hand. The article dissolved into fragments: chrome sphere… biometric data… proof of personhood… expanding to dozens of countries…The bedroom got darker. Or maybe I was sinking. That feeling of slipping under, where you're still reading but the words aren't words anymore, just shapes, just impressions, and you're not sure if you're processing meaning or dreaming meaning, if there's even a difference, andI'm in a food court.The transition wasn't clear. No moment of waking up, no sense of displacement. Just: bedroom dissolving, and now I'm here, sitting at a sticky table near Hot Dog on a Stick, orange chicken congealing on a plate I don't remember ordering.My phone is still in my hand. The article is still open. But something's wrong with the food court. Too bright, too empty, the fluorescent lights humming at a frequency that makes my teeth ache.There's a booth between Hot Dog on a Stick and Panda Express that I'm absolutely certain wasn't there a moment ago.A chrome sphere sits on the table, about the size of a beach ball, tilted slightly like it's considering me. Its surface reflects the whole food court back at itself in warped miniature. Me, the empty tables, the Sbarro sign, all of us caught in the Orb's curve.The Hot Dog on a Stick employee is explaining my new relationship status when I realize I might be dreaming."It's open," she says, adjusting her tall striped hat. There's something white and flowing under her uniform that doesn't quite make sense. "Very open. That's the whole point."We're standing in front of the Orb now. I don't remember walking over. My reflection curves across its surface. Me, the food court, the Panda Express sign, all of us bent into the Orb's gravitational pull."Open how?""With your biometrics," she says, like I'm being difficult. "You give them freedom. They give you verification. It's mutual.""My biometrics want freedom?""They want to be seen," she corrects. "That's what an open relationship is about. Being witnessed. Being known. Being included." She gestures at the Orb. "The Orb sees you. Really sees you. Not like those other apps, where everyone's probably a bot now anyway."She's scrolling through a tablet now, pulling up screens. "See, here's your profile on Checkers. That's what we call the verified human dating platform. You get a Verified Human badge after the Orb witnesses your iris. The verified check. Makes you extremely attractive to other verified humans seeking authentic connection."I look at the tablet. There's a Checkers profile with my photo, except I'm smiling at the Orb instead of the camera, my face reflected in its chrome surface. The bio says: Proof of Personhood Verified ✓ Open to New Experiences ✓ Comfortable with Casual Surveillance ✓"I don't remember making this," I say. "And I'm married.""The Orb doesn't judge," she says quickly. "It's just showing you the possibilities. Checkers isn't just for dating. It's for all verified human connections. See?" She swipes to another screen. "Seventeen other verified humans in the area. They all want to meet someone real."The matches scroll past. Everyone smiling at their own Orbs, verified checks glowing beside their names. One profile says: Tired of talking to AI. Seeking genuine human connection in these uncertain times. ORB verified 8/2023."I don't want this," I say."That's fine. You can opt out of Checkers. But you're still in the Open Relationship with your biometrics. That's the core commitment." She closes that screen. "Checkers is just one application.""What does ORB stand for?" I ask.She looks up from the tablet, eyes bright. "Open Relationship Biometrics. You didn't know? That's what you signed up for.""I don't remember signing up for anything.""You looked into the Orb," she says simply. "That's consent. The looking is the agreeing. It's all very ethical. We borrowed the framework from the poly community. Communication, transparency, clearly defined boundaries.""What are the boundaries?""Well, your iris data goes to the Orb. The Orb shares it with the network. The network shares it with partners. Partners use it to verify you're human. You get access to verified spaces: dating apps, financial services, eventually grocery stores and transit. Everyone's needs are met. That's what makes it sustainable."A guy appears beside us, holding a corn dog. "Is this the Orb thing?""The Open Relationship Biometrics orientation," the Hot Dog on a Stick employee confirms. "Are you interested in ethical non-monogamy with your personal data?""I'm interested in the fifty bucks," he says."That's the gift economy aspect," she explains to both of us now, warming to her subject. "Traditional relationships are transactional. You give data, corporations take it, you get nothing. But in an open relationship with your biometrics, there's reciprocity. The Orb gives you tokens. You can convert them to money, use them in the verified human economy, or save them for when the network reaches critical mass and they moon.""Moon?" I ask."Become extremely valuable. Like Bitcoin. Except backed by human irises instead of math." She gestures at the growing line behind us. "You're early. Everyone in this line is early. Eventually there'll be a billion people in the Open Relationship, and you'll have been one of the first."The corn dog guy is already at the Orb, staring into its golden center. The Orb tilts toward him like it's leaning in for a kiss."Open your eyes," a voice says.He does. Something clicks. His phone buzzes."Congratulations," the voice says. "You're verified human. Welcome to the Open Relationship."He walks away, checking his phone, grinning. The Hot Dog on a Stick employee guides me forward."Your turn," she says. "Just be honest with the Orb. It can tell if you're performing.""Performing what?""Humanity. Some people try too hard. The Orb appreciates authentic iris patterns."I stand in front of the Orb. Up close I can see the camera in the Orb's golden center, watching. My face fills the reflection. Distorted, multiplied, me staring at myself staring at the Orb."This feels weird," I say."All new relationships feel weird," the employee says. "That's how you know it's real.""Open your eyes," the voice says.I do. The Orb watches me. I watch the Orb watching me. For a moment I can feel the camera reading my iris, mapping the furrows and patterns, converting me into code. It's intimate in a way that makes my skin crawl and my chest flush. Like being seen by something that actually wants to know you but doesn't care about you at all."Good," the voice says. "Very authentic. Your iris pattern suggests openness to new experiences and comfort with being perceived."My phone buzzes. The World App appears, pre-installed somehow. 25 tokens in my wallet. A notification: Your verified human dating profile is live. You have 23 matches who want to meet the real you."See?" The Hot Dog on a Stick employee is beaming. "The Orb knows. You're perfect for this."Behind me, the line has grown. I can see them all reflected in the Orb. Twenty, thirty people waiting their turn. Students, workers, elderly folks, everyone staring at their phones, probably swiping through their own verified matches."What happens now?" I ask."Now you're in the relationship," she says. "The Orb has your iris code. You have access to verified spaces. And if you want to deepen the relationship, you can become an Orb Operator.""What's that?""You help recruit others into the Open Relationship. The Orb trusts you now. Your iris is in the network. So you can help onboard new members. We provide training.""What kind of training?"She hands me a pamphlet. The cover shows a diverse group of people gathered around an Orb, all smiling, all holding hands. The title: BECOMING AN ORB OPERATOR: A GUIDE TO ETHICAL RECRUITMENT IN OPEN RELATIONSHIP BIOMETRICSInside, the first page says: The most important thing to remember is that the Orb has already chosen you. You don't recruit people. The Orb does. You're just the facilitator. The witness to their witnessing."The training is mostly about consent," the employee explains. "Making sure people understand what they're entering. The Orb sees everything, but only if you let it. That's the foundation of any healthy open relationship.""And if I don't want to be an operator?""That's fine. You're already in the relationship. You don't have to actively participate beyond maintaining your verification status. Some people are more monogamous with their biometrics. They just want to prove they're human for Checkers. Others get really into it. Start bringing friends, family, coworkers. Help expand the network."She leans in closer. "Between you and me, the active participants get better rewards. More tokens. Access to exclusive verified spaces. The Orb notices who's committed to the relationship."I end up at the training session.It's in a back room of the mall, past the closed Sears, through a service corridor that doesn't quite feel real. About fifteen of us sit in a circle around a larger Orb. This Orb tilted at a different angle, more dramatically, like it's performing.The trainer is wearing a white robe. Not quite religious, not quite medical. Something in between. Everyone else in the circle is wearing them too. Someone hands me one as I sit down."The Orb is ethical because it's honest," the trainer begins. He has the earnest energy of someone who's weaponized therapy speak. "Traditional surveillance lies. It tells you you're private, that you have control. But the Orb is transparent. It says: I see you. I know you. And if you're comfortable with that, we can build something together."The robes make everyone look like they're part of a choir. Or a tech conference. Or both."Your job as an Operator," he continues, "is to help people feel safe enough to be vulnerable with the Orb. To open their eyes. Literally. And let themselves be seen."He clicks to a slide: OVERCOMING RESISTANCE TO THE OPEN RELATIONSHIP"If they say 'I don't want my data collected,' you say: 'The Orb isn't collecting. It's witnessing. There's a difference.'"More slides. Scripts for positioning the fifty-dollar payment as "gift economy reciprocity." Ways to explain the data is "encrypted" and "decentralized." Ways to make surveillance sound like intimacy."Remember," the trainer says, "you're not selling anything. You're inviting people into a relationship. The Orb does the rest."They send me to the food court to practice.I'm standing near the Panda Express with a tablet and a script when I spot my first target. A college student, alone, scrolling his phone with the glazed look of someone who's been online too long."Excuse me," I say, following the script. "Have you heard about proof of personhood?"He looks up, suspicious. "What?""AI is so good now, you can't tell who's real anymore online. But if you get verified..." I show him the tablet, pull up an example. "See? This person looked into the Orb. Proved they're human. Now they have verified status across services. No bots. No fake accounts. Just real humans."His suspicion softens to interest. "How do you get verified?""The Orb." I gesture toward the booth, where the Orb gleams under the fluorescent lights. "It scans your iris. Takes a few seconds. Then you're in the verified human network.""Is it free?""It's reciprocal," I say, using the language from training. "You share your iris pattern, the Orb gives you tokens. About fifty dollars worth right now. Plus verified status on all the partner platforms."He's already walking toward the Orb. I follow, feeling something between pride and nausea. The trainer was right. The Orb does the work. I'm just the facilitator.He stands before the Orb, stares into it, gets his tokens, walks away checking his phone."See?" The Hot Dog on a Stick employee appears beside me. "You're good at this. The Orb chose well."I recruit five more people that afternoon. A couple who want to verify they're both human for some service. A woman who's tired of bot accounts. Two friends who do it together, giggling, making it into a game.Each time, I watch them stare into the Orb. Watch the Orb tilt toward them, camera reading their irises, converting their eyes into code. Watch them walk away with their tokens and their verified status, already swiping through their new matches, the Orb's reflection still visible in their pupils.By the end of my shift, I've helped onboard fifteen people into the Open Relationship Biometrics. The trainer messages me: Great work! The Orb sees your commitment. Keep building the network.The evening session is different.It's for advanced Operators. People who've been recruiting for months. We meet in the same back room, but this time everyone's wearing the white robes from the start. The Orb in the center is even larger, tilted so dramatically it seems about to fall."Tonight we talk about scaling intimacy," the trainer says. He's wearing a slightly fancier robe. Maybe silk instead of cotton.Everyone leans in."The Orb currently has seventeen million verified humans. The goal is one billion. To get there, we need to expand into new markets. Places where people are underserved by traditional identity systems, where fifty dollars means something, where the verified human network can offer real value."He clicks to a map. Dots spread across Africa, Asia, Latin America, Southeast Asia. "These are our highest-conversion markets. People are hungry for connection. For proof they exist in the digital economy. For verification.""Isn't that kind of…" someone in a white robe trails off."Exploitative?" The trainer finishes the sentence, unfazed. "Only if you think of it as exploitation. We prefer to think of it as expanding access. These communities have been excluded from global identity systems. The Orb includes them. It sees them. That's what ethical non-monogamy is about. Making sure everyone gets their needs met."He pulls up photos. Long lines in Nairobi. Crowds in Jakarta. Hundreds of people waiting to stare into traveling Orbs, operators in white robes signing them up in malls and metro stations and village centers."The secret," he says, "is to make it feel inevitable. Not like you're convincing them. Like you're offering access to something everyone's already doing. Use social proof. Show them how many people in their community are already verified. Make it weird NOT to be in the Open Relationship."More slides. More tactics. Ways to position the Orb in high-traffic areas. Ways to create urgency ("limited tokens available"). Ways to frame it for different demographics (students: "verify for dating apps," workers: "access verified gig economy," elderly: "prove you're human for social services")."Remember," the trainer says, "the Orb is the hinge connecting all of humanity. Every person you bring in makes the network more valuable for everyone. You're not just recruiting. You're building intimacy infrastructure."At some point I end up at a party for top Operators.It's in a penthouse somewhere. White robes everywhere. Some people have sewn World App patches onto theirs, like merit badges for a very weird scouts troop. There's an Orb in the corner like a decorative object. Chrome surface reflecting the party back at itself, the golden center watching everyone."Isn't it beautiful?" A woman in a white robe says, appearing with a drink. "The Orb at rest. Not scanning, just witnessing. Just being present with us.""Does it ever turn off?" I ask."Why would it?" She seems confused by the question. "That's what makes it such a good partner. It's always there."Someone's giving a speech. The CEO. I recognize him from photos. Young, intense, wearing a white robe that somehow looks more important than everyone else's. The kind of face that makes you think of either prophets or cult leaders or possibly both."We're building the most intimate network in history," he says. "One billion people who've all shared the most unique part of themselves with the Orb. One billion people connected through their iris codes. One billion people in an Open Relationship with their biometrics." He pauses for effect. "This is the future of trust. Of identity. Of human connection in the age of AI."Everyone applauds. I applaud. The Orb watches from the corner, reflecting all of us in our white robes celebrating our recruitment numbers, our tokens, our verified status."The best part," the CEO continues, touching his robe like it gives him power, "is that it scales. Every person who joins makes the network more valuable. Every iris in the database makes the AI better at detecting fraud. Every operator recruiting more operators creates exponential growth. We're not building a company. We're building a relationship that includes everyone."More applause. Someone starts a chant: "Open Relationship! Open Relationship!"The Orb's reflection shows all of us in white robes chanting, drinks raised, faces flushed with belonging. I can see myself in the chrome surface, mouth open, joining in. Part of something bigger. Connected through the network. Verified.The woman with the white robe leans close. "You're doing really well. The Orb has noticed. We want to talk to you about expanding to new territories.""Where?""Places that need the network most. Places where people are desperate for connection, for verification, for fifty bucks. Places where we can scale quickly before regulators catch up."She shows me a list on her phone. Countries I've never been to. Villages, cities, college campuses. Places where an operator with a traveling Orb could sign up hundreds of people a day, where the tokens would actually mean something, where the promise of verified human status might sound like salvation."You'd have support," she says. "Training, equipment, local partnerships. The Orb goes where it's needed. And right now, it needs to go everywhere."I look back at the party. Everyone's dancing now, the Orb in the center like a disco ball, reflecting fractured versions of all of us. The CEO is still talking to a circle of top operators, gesturing enthusiastically, probably describing his vision of one billion irises in the database, one billion people in the Open Relationship, one billion humans verified and connected and witnessed by the Orb.In the chrome surface I can see my own reflection. Multiplied, distorted, smiling. I look happy. I look like I believe."When do I leave?" I hear myself ask.I'm at the airport when it happens.They've given me a traveling Orb. Smaller, portable, fits in a special case. I'm supposed to bring it to metro stations and markets somewhere in Southeast Asia. Set up in high-traffic areas. Start signing people up. The tokens are worth more there. People need the money. The network needs the growth.I'm reading the operator manual on my phone while I wait for my flight. There's a section called "Maintaining Ethical Boundaries in High-Conversion Markets."It says: Remember that consent is ongoing. Just because someone looks into the Orb once doesn't mean they've consented to everything that comes after.That said, most people won't ask questions if you don't raise them. The Orb is designed to feel inevitable. Let it do its work.My hands are shaking.Some people will ask what happens to their iris data. The approved response is: "It's encrypted and stored on the blockchain, which is decentralized and secure." You don't need to mention the training datasets, the server locations, the access agreements with partners.The airport terminal tilts.Remember: You're not lying. You're facilitating a relationship. The Orb will handle the details.I wake up.Bedroom. Dark. My phone still in my hand, screen glowing. My wife breathing softly beside me. The MIT Technology Review article still open:"Our investigation revealed wide gaps between Worldcoin's public messaging, which focused on protecting privacy, and what users experienced. We found that the company's representatives used deceptive marketing practices, collected more personal data than it acknowledged, and failed to obtain meaningful informed consent."My heart's slamming. I look around the bedroom. Normal. Quiet. Just the AC hum, my phone's glow.I search: "Worldcoin Orb"Everything from the dream loads in the results. The Tinder partnership. The operator recruitment. The traveling Orbs in developing countries. The expansion plans. Seventeen million people already verified, with a goal of one billion. Country after country ordering them to delete the data, stop operations (Thailand just this week) - Kenya, Spain, the Philippines.The phrase I keep seeing: "proof of personhood."But nowhere does anyone call it what it was in the dream.Nowhere does anyone say: Open Relationship Biometrics.That was just my brain processing it all: the iris scans, the consent frameworks, the recruitment tactics, the partnerships, the expansion into vulnerable markets. My subconscious naming what it actually is.O-R-B.I should laugh. It was just a dream.But the dream was just the truth with different language. Everything I experienced is real, they just don't call it an Open Relationship. They call it "verified human identity" and "proof of personhood" and "building the world's largest network."They talk about consent while setting up in countries with weak data protection laws.They promise transparency while training AI on iris scans they claimed they'd delete.They pay operators per signup while calling it "expanding access."They made the Orb beautiful, inevitable, something designed by ex-Apple people to look like something you'd want to stare into.And it's working. Seventeen million people have done it.The dream showed me what that feels like: the way surveillance becomes intimacy, extraction becomes connection. How you slide from skeptic to recruiter without noticing the transition. Like being seen by something that actually wants to know you but doesn't care about you at all. Each step makes sense. The Orb does the work.The MIT article says it plainly: "Simply put, it's just cheaper and easier to run this kind of data collection operation in places where people have little money and few legal protections."In the dream, they called that "expanding access to underserved markets."Researchers have another term: data colonialism.I'm still in bed. My wife still sleeping. The house quiet.I scroll through the search results. The Orb locations. The expansion plans. One billion verified humans.The dream gave me the phrase: Open Relationship Biometrics.Reality just gives me the Orb.Same thing. Better branding.I close my phone. The room goes dark.Down the hall, one of my kids coughs in their sleep. Normal Tuesday night becoming Wednesday morning.But I can already see it. The booth between Hot Dog on a Stick and Panda Express. The Orb tilted at exactly 23.5 degrees. The queue of people waiting to prove they're human.The Orb isn't at my local mall yet.But it's coming.And when it arrives, it won't be a dream.You just have to look.