The body remains the interface. What XR and AI reveal about technology… | by Youjin Nam

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In late 2020, I ordered a Quest 2 headset. It was the middle of the pandemic, and I hoped it might break the sameness of those months. VR was everywhere in the headlines, and I wanted to see what it actually felt like.

When it arrived, I put on the headset and began setup. Partway through, I had to clear space in my small office for the designated play area. Even before setup finished, I felt a faint discomfort—familiar, unpleasant. I ignored it and launched one of the pre-installed demos.

I found myself on an empty plain under a dark red sky, a single mountain silhouetted on the horizon. No sound. Just stillness, all around. It felt like being dropped into a silent desert at the edge of nowhere — overwhelming, unfamiliar, and strangely profound.

A Stellarium VR rendering shows the Libra constellation with Venus shining brightly above the horizon at dawn, the sky fading from deep black to golden orange over distant hills. — A Stellarium VR scene — not the demo I tried, but evoking the same solitude I felt: standing alone under a vast, dark sky. (Image Source)

And then, within twenty minutes, I was drenched in cold sweat — nauseated, dizzy. I pushed through another ten minutes, hoping I’d adapt. I didn’t. When I finally pulled off the headset, I lay flat on the floor, waiting for…

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