The Eden One didn't exactly change the world overnight.
Vince often thought back to his previous life, where revolutionary products were talked about for years after they hit the market.
History has a way of condensing everything.
A product launches, people rave about it, millions fly off the shelves, competitors rush to copy it, and just like that, the world feels transformed. But looking back, those technological revolutions seem to happen in the blink of an eye.
Experiencing one firsthand, however, was far from glamorous.
Maston Holdings wasn't a giant with thousands of stores. It didn't have a sprawling distribution network, nor did it boast decades of connections with retailers or factories that could churn out millions of devices each month.
Even after landing that thirty-million-dollar loan from the Bank of Federation, Vince had to be meticulous about every single dollar spent.
The company took a unique route: while the advertisements were everywhere, the phones themselves were not. Vox had relentlessly aired Eden One ads for weeks, especially during IRW and the increasingly popular state college basketball games.
Viewers all over the Federation caught glimpses of the quirky device without a keyboard, saw fingers gliding over its touchscreen, and heard Noah and Irvin casually mention it during IRW.
Dongle also pushed the technology expo through its search engine.
The outcome? A whole lot of curiosity. But unfortunately, curiosity doesn't always translate into sales.
For the initial launch, the Eden One was only available in four major markets: Dodge, New York, Capital DC, and Los Santos.
Even in those places, Maston Holdings had partnerships with just a handful of electronics retailers. It wasn't a case of wanting to create artificial scarcity; they simply couldn't stretch their resources any further.
The Eden factory was still figuring out how to produce Carl Holler's design efficiently. Vince was frustrated with the higher-than-expected production defects, the need for worker training, and the challenge of sourcing components from various suppliers who were just as unprepared for the sudden demand from Maston Holdings.
Carl was on the verge of a nervous breakdown when the first batch of production came back with way too many faulty touchscreens.
Given the situation, expanding nationally would have been a recipe for disaster, so Vince had to accept a smaller launch, much to his disappointment.
On the morning of the release, the Federation's response was a mixed bag.
In New York, a few stores opened with modest lines.
At one larger electronics retailer, about seventy people had gathered before the doors opened. Some had attended the Eden expo, others had caught clips of it on TV, and many were just tech enthusiasts curious to see if the quirky phone from the ads actually worked.
When the first customers walked out with small Eden boxes, it drew even more attention.
Passers-by stopped to take a look, and some even ventured inside just to check it out. The demonstration counters quickly became busier than the checkout lines.
A middle-aged businessman eyed the Eden One with suspicion while a salesman explained the touchscreen features.
"So, there aren't any number buttons?" he asked.
"They show up here, sir," the salesman replied, tapping the phone icon to reveal a digital keypad.
The businessman frowned. "And what if I want to type?"
"The keyboard takes the place of the numbers," the salesman explained, opening the messaging app to demonstrate.
The man's frown deepened. "So, the buttons keep moving?"
"Yeah, it depends on what you're doing."
"Why on earth would I want my buttons moving?" The salesman hesitated, and the businessman handed the phone back. "I'll stick with my Lokia."
That kind of reaction was pretty common. Some customers fell in love with Eden right away, while others couldn't stand it from the get-go, and a surprising number were left scratching their heads.
One elderly woman kept tapping the screen with her fingernail, insisting the device was broken until her grandson showed her that it worked much better with the pad of her finger.
A teenager spent nearly twenty minutes scrolling through the interface before his dad had to physically drag him away after spotting the $399 price tag.
Another customer wanted to know if the screen could survive a drop; the salesman wisely sidestepped making any promises.
In Capital DC, the vibe was a bit more cautious.
Office workers were intrigued by the idea of Dongle integration and accessing information on the go, but many were hesitant to give up their trusty physical keyboards.
Several stores noted customers checking out the Eden One only to walk away with traditional phones instead.
Los Santos, on the other hand, was doing better.
With its younger crowd and tech-savvy community, there was already a buzz following the expo.
The camera was a standout feature, as people were excited about the idea that the same device they used for calls could also take photos, play music, browse the internet, and send messages—all without needing extra gadgets.
Still, while Eden was definitely interesting, it hadn't quite reached the level of a phenomenon yet.
Dodge, however, was the exception.
Vince had transformed into one of the most well-known businessmen in the city. Thanks to IRW's swift ascent, he had evolved from the naive young guy who bought a struggling wrestling promotion into the mastermind behind one of Dodge's hottest entertainment venues.
In Harborview, where IRW had a particularly devoted fanbase, the streets were plastered with Eden ads.
The biggest store in the area had a line of over a hundred eager customers waiting to get in. Most of them were young, some proudly donned IRW gear, and one guy had shown up just because Noah had used an Eden One during the last broadcast.
Among the crowd was Tony.
Tony peered through the shop window at the Eden display, second-guessing every choice that had led him to this moment. Three hundred and ninety-nine dollars.
He had run the numbers in his head countless times, even calculating how much of his savings it represented—a realization he instantly regretted.
Luke had gotten his Eden straight from Vince. Tony found that incredibly unfair and had voiced his frustration, but Luke had just shrugged it off: "Know the owner."
Tony couldn't stand him.
Still, when the doors swung open, Tony stepped inside with the rest of the crowd. Thirty minutes later, he emerged, clutching an Eden One.
He paused on the sidewalk, staring at the box, then glanced at his wallet. His face fell. "Four hundred dollars."
Okay, technically $399, but that extra dollar felt significant in a way he couldn't shake.
He opened the box. The phone looked almost comically pristine compared to his old Redcherry—no keyboard taking up half the front, no jumble of tiny plastic buttons, just a sleek screen and a few physical controls around the edges.
He powered it on. The Eden logo lit up, and despite himself, Tony couldn't help but smile.
Within twenty minutes, the sting of the price tag began to fade.
The touchscreen was still a bit foreign to him. His fingers occasionally hit the wrong letters, he accidentally opened the wrong app twice, and somehow, he managed to change a setting without even realizing what he had done.
Tony had this incredible ability to touch something and see it respond right away. He could glide effortlessly between music, messages, Dongle, and photos without getting lost in a maze of buttons.
But what really caught his eye was the camera.
He made his way to Dodge Harbour, where the afternoon sun danced on the water, and boats lazily drifted between the docks. Finding a good spot to take it all in, he opened the camera and lifted the Eden One.
The scene unfolded on the screen before him. He adjusted his grip and tapped the capture button.
Click.
He quickly opened the photo, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Whoa."
It wasn't flawless. Zooming in showed some grain, the colors were a bit off, and any pro camera would have blown it away. But Tony didn't mind—his phone had just captured that moment.
He snapped another shot, then another. A boat. A seagull. The skyline. A guy unloading crates who yelled at Tony to stop taking his picture.
Tony lowered the phone, but then he remembered his old Redcherry. He pulled it from his pocket and held both devices side by side for a moment. The Redcherry suddenly felt like a relic.
A grin spread across his face. Without giving it much thought, he tossed the Redcherry toward the water.
Splash.
A nearby fisherman turned to him, eyes wide. Tony's smile faded as they locked eyes.
"Did you just throw a working phone into the harbour?"
Tony glanced at the water. "...Yeah."
"Why on earth would you do that?"
Tony looked at the Eden One, then back at the water. "I've got a better one."
The fisherman stared at him like he was missing a few screws. "You could've sold the old one, you know."
As Tony turned back to the water, realization dawned on him. "Oh."
The fisherman shook his head in disbelief. "What an idiot."
Someone picked one up, another person caught a glimpse, and they couldn't resist asking to give it a go.
The touchscreen made its rounds, photos were snapped, and everyone was diving into Dongle searches, all because they couldn't wrap their heads around the fact that the same search engine they relied on at their desks was now right in someone's pocket.
But the flaws were glaring. The battery life was just okay, and heavy usage drained it quicker than expected.
Once users started snapping too many pictures and loading up on music, the limited storage became painfully obvious. The browser was sluggish, some folks despised typing on the touchscreen, and others grumbled about the screen smudging with fingerprints.
One customer even marched back to the store less than three hours after buying his Eden because it had frozen up; the salesman rebooted it, and sure enough, it worked again, but the customer was still skeptical.
Meanwhile, at Maston Holdings, Vince was struggling to see the bright side. He paced back and forth in his office while Carl Holler sat across from him, his right leg bouncing like a jackhammer.
Finally, Vince halted. "Carl."
Carl looked up, startled. "What?"
"Your leg is shaking."
Carl glanced down. "Oh." The bouncing ceased.
Vince started pacing again, but just ten seconds later, the bouncing resumed. He shut his eyes. He couldn't even fault Carl for it—he was just as anxious, but he managed to mask it better.
The office phone sat in silence, which somehow only amplified the tension.
Eventually, Carl broke the quiet. "What if nobody buys it?"
"We saw the lines."
"Lines don't guarantee sales. Half of those people might've just wanted to check it out." Carl pressed on before Vince could respond. "Four hundred bucks is a hefty price. What if they think it's just a gimmick? What if they can't stand the keyboard? What if the screens start glitching? What if—"
"Carl. You're going to give yourself a heart attack before you hit thirty."
The young inventor rubbed his hands over his face, feeling the weight of the moment. "I was just thirteen when I started this. Back then, it was just me—if something went wrong, I'd lose a few parts and a couple of months. But now? There's a whole factory. There are people depending on this. You've put up Dongle shares and Vox shares as collateral. If this fails—"
"It won't."
"You can't be sure of that."
Vince fell quiet. Carl had finally voiced what Vince had been too afraid to admit: he didn't know.
In his old life, smartphones had changed everything.
But Eden wasn't an iPhone, and Vince wasn't Steve Jobs. There was no Apple backing them up, no massive, seasoned consumer-electronics company with years of experience and deep pockets.
Vince had taken a spark from his memories and nudged Carl into creating something ahead of its time—maybe too far ahead. Being the first to market wasn't always a blessing; sometimes it just meant showing everyone else what not to do.
Vince turned his gaze to the window. "This phone is revolutionary."
Carl chuckled nervously. "You keep saying that."
"Because it is."
That seemed to ease Carl a bit. Vince settled into his seat across from him.
"If today doesn't go well, we adapt. If people don't like the keyboard, we'll make it better. If battery life is an issue, we'll tackle that. If $399 feels steep, we'll find ways to cut production costs. Eden One doesn't need to be flawless."
Carl met his eyes. "It just needs to show there's a market."
Before Carl could respond, the door swung open, and Gavin stepped in. Both men shot to their feet. Gavin looked like he'd been through the wringer—his hair was a mess, his tie was askew, and he clutched a stack of papers.
Carl went pale, and Vince felt a knot tighten in his stomach. Neither of them said a word.
Carl swallowed hard. "How bad is it?"
Gavin frowned, his expression serious. "Bad?"
"You look like you've just heard some terrible news."
"I've been on the phone for four hours straight."
Carl's eyes darted to the papers in front of him. "The sales numbers?"
Gavin finally got it. "Oh." He glanced down, then back up at Carl. "Dodge sold out of the first allocation at two stores."
Carl went still. Vince didn't budge either.
"Not citywide," Gavin added quickly. "So don't get too excited just yet."
But it was too late. Vince grabbed the report, his eyes scanning the preliminary numbers. They were still incomplete, but the trend was becoming clear.
Dodge had really outdone itself, with over five hundred Eden Ones sold so far.
Harborview was a big contributor, thanks to IRW's popularity and the focused Vox advertising push. New York had just crossed four hundred, Los Santos was in the mid-three hundreds, and Capital DC was just shy of three hundred. Some retailers still hadn't sent in their final numbers.
Vince did some quick math in his head. "So, about fifteen hundred?"
"One thousand five hundred and seventy-eight confirmed," Gavin said. "We could end up around sixteen hundred once everything is tallied."
Carl stared at him, processing. "Sixteen hundred." His face fell a bit. "Is that... good?"
Gavin shot him a weary look. "For Lokia? It would be a disaster."
Carl looked crushed, but Gavin quickly added, "For a company launching its first product in four cities with limited retail presence? That's actually pretty impressive."
Carl's mouth opened slightly in surprise. Vince turned his attention back to the report.
Roughly sixteen hundred units at $399 meant around $638,000 in retail sales on day one.
But Vince knew better than to pop any champagne over that figure.
Retailers took their share, and manufacturing costs were hefty, especially since Eden's production lines were still getting up to speed. Components, shipping, warranty reserves, and advertising all chipped away at the revenue. Maston Holdings wasn't suddenly sitting on six hundred grand—they were far from it.
The key number was sixteen hundred. That's how many people had checked out a brand-new device priced at nearly four hundred dollars and decided it was worth the splurge, all on the very first day, even with its availability limited to just four cities.
Carl sank into his chair, disbelief washing over him. "People actually bought it. They really did."
"Well, that's what sales are all about," Gavin replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm, but Carl chose to overlook it.
Suddenly, Carl burst into laughter, a strange, breathless sound that seemed to come from deep within, as if his body was finally letting go of months of pent-up stress.
Vince beamed at him, but Gavin raised a cautionary finger. "Hold on, don't get too excited just yet."
Vince's smile faded. "Why not?"
"We've got some complaints."
Carl's laughter died instantly. "How many?"
"Nothing too serious," Gavin reassured him.
"Most of the issues are about battery life. Heavy users are draining it way faster than we anticipated. The touchscreen typing is a mixed bag—some folks love it, while others can't stand it. We've also heard gripes about fingerprints on the screen, and a few people are already saying the storage isn't enough."
Vince nodded, having expected most of those complaints. "What about hardware failures?"
"Eleven reported so far."
Carl leaned in, alarmed. "Eleven?!"
"Out of nearly sixteen hundred."
"What's going wrong?"
"Three touchscreen issues, two phones that won't boot up, one camera problem, and the rest I don't have details on yet."
Carl reached for the report. "We need to get those units back. All of them. I want to take a look."
Gavin handed it over. "Oh, and there's one broken screen."
Carl's expression fell. "How did that happen?"
"The customer dropped it."
"From where?"
"Apparently, a staircase."
Carl stared at him incredulously. "That's not a manufacturing defect!"
"I know."
"Then why is it on the complaint report?"
"Because he complained about it."
Vince couldn't help but laugh, while Carl looked genuinely offended on behalf of his creation. "If you toss a television down the stairs, it breaks too!"
Even Gavin chuckled at that, and for the first time all day, the atmosphere in the room lightened.
Then Gavin slid another sheet over to Vince. "This is what I think you should really pay attention to."
It wasn't about sales; it was all about retailer feedback. Stores were starting to ask for larger second allocations.
Two retailers in Capital DC wanted to hold off for a few days, and one location in New York had sold less than anticipated. However, several others were already clamoring for more stock, especially in Dodge. What was even more intriguing was that store employees were noticing an uptick in customers specifically asking for the Eden, rather than just inquiring about "that touchscreen phone from the commercials."
The name was definitely catching on.
Vox could promote Eden to millions, but no ad could replicate the experience of actually holding it.
A standard phone might seem perfectly fine until you placed an Eden next to it; suddenly, the keyboard felt clunky, the small display looked minuscule, and navigating through menus with directional buttons became a chore.
Eden's owners were unwittingly turning into salespeople for Maston Holdings.
Vince leaned back in his chair. "Let's not ramp up production too quickly."
Carl and Gavin exchanged glances, and Gavin raised an eyebrow. "I figured you'd say the opposite."
"We've only got one day of data. Just one." Vince tapped the report for emphasis.
He recalled enough business blunders from his previous life to understand what could happen when companies confused initial excitement with lasting demand.
"We should increase production slowly. Focus on the stores that sold through most of their stock, and avoid flooding locations where phones are just gathering dust."
Vince continued, "We're already at capacity. I don't want Eden to launch nationwide only for customers to be left waiting six weeks because we can't keep up with manufacturing. Let's start with four cities. Stabilize production, address any defects, and figure out what people don't like."
"And then?"
Vince smiled. "Then we make more."