In person, the Vision Pro makes an appearance in my peripheral vision when I least anticipate it. When it's not connected to a charger on the desk, it's placed on the coffee table or the dresser. During a recent visit to his parents for the weekend, where he arrived before me, I entered the house to find the Vision Pro case on the kitchen table and the headset in the guest bedroom. It's always within reach.
It's also quite subtle. There's no sound when he puts it on, and since the speakers are close to his ears, I can't tell when he's listening to anything. One day when we were both working remotely, I was at my desk while he was on the couch. At one point, I turned around to ask him a question while he was working on his laptop. Later, when I turned back around, I saw him wearing the Vision Pro—his fingers moving through the air, hands gesturing. He was editing a YouTube Short in Final Cut Pro. It was quite amusing to watch because his laptop screen was blank.
Somewhat startled that I hadn't noticed him putting it on, I stared at him for what seemed like an eternity until he finally said, "What?" It turned out we had been staring at each other the whole time. EyeSight, a feature that mimics your eye movements so you know if someone is talking to you while wearing the headset, isn't very obvious depending on the surroundings.
My coworker Julian Chokkattu had a similar experience with his wife. In his review of the Apple Vision Pro, he mentioned that his partner found it "hard to notice" EyeSight and that it felt like she was "looking at [his] eyes through a screensaver." For me, it's easy to spot the virtual eyes staring back only when there's ample natural light in the room. But most of the time, it takes me a few (awkward) seconds to determine if my boyfriend is looking at me or focused on the content in front of him.
This has become a routine: One moment he's not wearing the headset, and the next he is. The transition always happens unexpectedly—when I leave the room to take a shower, do my makeup, or prepare to go out.
Once, after finishing brushing my teeth before bed, I walked out to the living room to find him perched on the edge of the couch, gazing into the distance with the Vision Pro securely on his head. He was playing chess. I sat beside him and silently observed as he pinched his fingers and moved imaginary chess pieces through the air in various directions—left, right, diagonal—slowly pulling back to analyze his opponent's (a computer) next move.
During similar instances, I'd always inquire, "Can I give it a try?" In an effort to persuade me to embrace the Vision Pro as much as he does, he'd always agree. It's not that I'm completely opposed to owning my own headset, but I struggle to comprehend the necessity for it in its current state. Besides the exorbitant $3,500 price and bulky design, I know I'll never reach for it as often as I do my iPhone, MacBook, or iPad. I'm satisfied with my current setup. Moreover, shouldn't one per household suffice if it costs that much? Unfortunately, sharing the experience feels more like a chore than enjoyment.
The only thing worse than one Vision Pro in a relationship is two.
To begin with, you must log into Guest Mode every time, meaning I'm compelled to undergo the 90-second calibration test repeatedly. I also wear spectacles. Technically, I'm supposed to purchase the prescription Zeiss Optical Inserts. However, I refuse to hand over $150 to Apple for something entirely beyond my control. It's frustrating to contemplate having to shell out even more money if there are multiple glasses wearers in the household.
I've never encountered issues using other headsets, like the Meta Quest 2, with glasses. Thus, out of sheer defiance, I persist in calibrating the Vision Pro with my glasses on regardless. It's not foolproof—the internal eye-tracking cameras sometimes struggle to accurately determine where my gaze is directed. Certain activities, such as exploring virtual Mount Hood, watching Spiderman: No Way Home in 3D, and browsing the web on Safari, are straightforward. However, tasks requiring more precise eye-tracking, such as navigating visionOS or attempting to play a game, pose challenges.
A Problem Shared
When my partner and I aimed to partake in the experience in any manner possible, we attempted streaming content on the TV via AirPlay. Regrettably, something as straightforward as watching a movie didn't go smoothly. We tried to watch Mean Girls, but due to its availability on a streaming platform, the content was blocked on both the Vision Pro and the television due to copyright restrictions.
Meanwhile, indulging in a game like Fruit Ninja on the large screen provided amusement for only a limited time. Each time we wished to switch players, we had to navigate between his profile and Guest Mode repeatedly. I couldn't help but reminisce about how effortless this process was with a headset like the Quest 2. A couple of years ago, when my father, brother, and I played The Walking Dead: Saints & Sinners for a few hours together, we simply passed the headset among the three of us and dove into the game without needing to switch profiles or adjust settings. On the Vision Pro, however, my partner and I must have played for a mere 10 minutes before the entire experience grew monotonous.
I also had to adapt to it virtually. Nothing can prepare you for joining a FaceTime call with your partner as his "persona"—Apple's digital avatar—while you're represented as your real self. Although it's in beta, it's unsettling to interact with. It fails to capture the swiftness when transitioning between facial expressions, making it difficult to discern whether my partner is laughing, smiling, or frowning.
Furthermore, communication isn't as straightforward. I often find myself gazing at his avatar for extended periods, attempting to ascertain whether the FaceTime call has frozen or if his avatar is slow to react. Additionally, it cannot detect physical objects like water bottles or food. Whenever he takes a sip of his beverage or a bite of food, it appears as though he's holding onto and/or chewing on nothing—prompting me to take multiple double takes. Similar to the in-person experience, the conversation lacks fluidity.
It's worth mentioning that I wrote this prior to Apple unveiling visionOS 1.1, which introduces the capability to initiate SharePlay sessions via FaceTime with up to five other Vision Pro users. You can engage in games, watch movies, and collaborate on apps like Freeform. I appreciate Apple's effort to expand the potential for collaboration with others (a feature that should be standard on such a pricey device), but it still doesn't alleviate the challenges for those who don't possess a headset—whether virtually or in-person.
When I informed my partner about the latest update, he eagerly turned to me and exclaimed, "Oh! We need to get you a Vision Pro now." Without a moment's hesitation, I responded, "Absolutely not." The only thing more undesirable than one Vision Pro in a relationship is two.
Isolation Station
I anticipated that having a mixed-reality headset around would provide a unique experience. However, integrating it into my daily routine has also presented an unforeseen learning curve—and I'm not even the one utilizing the Vision Pro. Its presence is impossible to ignore, necessitates a particular mode of communication, and undeniably influences how my partner and I engage. I'm gradually acclimating to it—growing less startled by its existence. Yet, I'm still surprised by the minimal effort it's taken to assimilate it into my life.
It's undeniable that it's a isolating experience for both the wearer of the headset and those outside of it. He often remarks, "This isn't as enjoyable," when he's using the Vision Pro to watch a YouTube video while I'm on the couch engrossed in a book.
As a couple who occasionally shares quality time in the same space while pursuing our hobbies, it's always enjoyable to check in on each other periodically—I'll often glance over his shoulder to see what he's watching or working on, and vice versa. So, it feels like we're still involving each other to some degree. However, the Vision Pro feels like a substantial barrier between us.
Regardless of one's ability to modulate their immersion level within the Vision Pro (by adjusting the knob on top of the headset), it's impossible to be fully present in reality and visionOS simultaneously. While composing this narrative, I couldn't help but recall two observations made by my colleagues when the Vision Pro initially launched. As Lauren Goode phrased it, "the Vision Pro is also unlike almost every other modern Apple product in one crucial way: It doesn’t disappear. In fact, it does the opposite." Kate Knibbs also noted, "It drives home the reality that an Apple headset, no matter how nifty its specs, is still a big honking gizmo plonked between its wearer and the rest of the world, inherently a barrier more than a conduit."
Whether the headset is directly in your line of sight or merely present through a FaceTime call—in the form of an avatar—it feels like an awkward presence in the room.
The Vision Pro demands acknowledgment of its presence, regardless of one's familiarity with it—ultimately inhibiting genuine communication. Attempting to engage in a serious conversation with someone utilizing either EyeSight or Persona is futile. Speaking from experience, I can guarantee you'll request them to remove the Vision Pro or call you back as their authentic self—to prevent feeling distracted by two pixelated eyes peering into your soul.
Finally, I've witnessed the novelty gradually diminish for my partner. During a recent trip to Florida, I braced myself for a three-hour flight during which he would likely wear the Vision Pro the entire time. However, I didn't see it in his bag. "I didn’t have any space for it," he mentioned. Consequently, instead of sitting beside him and his bulky headset on the plane, we watched a movie, dozed off, and even enjoyed the view out the window together.
It harkened back to life before the Vision Pro: devoid of distraction and awkward communication. I don't think either of us felt remorseful about leaving the headset behind.
