The "Love Goggles" were designed to strip away the "surface noise" of attraction. For forty-eight hours, Maya and Liam lived in adjacent pods, seeing only these artistic abstractions of one another. They talked about their childhood fears, their failed careers in their twenties, and the specific way the air smells right before a thunderstorm.

As the clock struck midnight, the producers signaled the end of the experiment. Maya felt a knot tighten in her chest. The prompt appeared on her internal display: Remove Visor?

By the second night, the watercolor blur of Liam felt more familiar to Maya than her own reflection. She found herself reaching out to touch the digital sparks, feeling the haptic gloves vibrate in response to his "hand."

"I think the goggles are working," she whispered into the dark of her pod. "I feel like I can see you better than if I were actually looking at you." But then came the "Filter Drop."

She pulled the goggles off. The harsh, fluorescent studio lights blinded her for a second. The shimmering gold sparks were gone. In their place sat a man with tired eyes, a slightly crooked nose, and a nervous habit of biting his lip. He looked nothing like the "golden constellation" she had imagined.