ZDNET’s Key Insights
The Brick is a compact $59 gadget ingeniously designed to restrict access to the most habit-forming apps on your smartphone. Through its use, the author learned to rebuild a more intentional and mindful relationship with their digital device—discovering that its system of positive reinforcement is markedly more effective than conventional tools such as Screen Time limitations or rival blocking applications.
As society’s daily existence becomes more deeply enmeshed in the digital realm, dependence on screens has transcended the boundaries of occasional overuse. It has instead evolved into an accepted, often unquestioned facet of modern life. This reality becomes immediately apparent in ordinary conversations: when I ask acquaintances, friends, or colleagues how much time they dedicate to their phones each day, their answers commonly fall between three and eight hours. Personally, I hover near the midpoint—spending approximately four hours per day reading and answering emails, replying to text messages, monitoring social media feeds, and glancing at weather updates. Reflecting upon this, I can’t help but notice that those same four hours could have been invested far more meaningfully: reading literature, writing, honing new skills such as amateur meteorology, or nurturing relationships by calling loved ones. Instead, they disappear into the endless cycle of reflexive screen checking and mindless digital consumption.
During the darker months of winter—when daylight dwindles and my energy wanes—the burden of technological overstimulation reaches its peak. I often wake feeling immobilized, lacking motivation to leave my bed or head to the gym. And rather than taking action, I succumb to scrolling: post after post of financial ‘advice’ exhorting me to invest more aggressively, announcements of engagements and weddings from old classmates, impassioned rants from strangers courting online outrage, and ominous headlines chronicling the latest global catastrophes. These fragments of content cascade over me indiscriminately, forming a disorienting tide of information that leaves me emotionally numb.
When I reach this point, my coping mechanism has long been to delete my social apps altogether. I physically relocate my phone—placing it in another room while I eat, work, or clean—hoping distance will restore some equilibrium. I impose stricter routines and push myself to spend time outdoors. Yet inevitably, after a brief reprieve of clarity and stability, I reinstall the very apps I had purged. The cycle resumes, familiar and frustratingly predictable.
To break this spiral, I have experimented with standard solutions: daily time limits, browser-only access, and productivity schedules. None of them provided a lasting fix. In October, however, I stumbled across a novel alternative—the Brick, a minimalist magnetic cube praised by users as a genuine lifesaver for reclaiming focus. Skeptical yet intrigued, I decided to test it myself when the company offered to send me one.
Functionally, the Brick is a smooth, gray square paired with a companion app. Once installed, you choose the specific applications you wish to disable when your phone is ‘bricked.’ The technology behind it relies on NFC—near-field communication, the same system that makes contactless payments and digital keycards possible. Simply tapping your phone to the cube activates a lock on those disruptive apps; tapping again restores access. The product allows custom schedules as well, enabling users to specify exact hours or categories of apps to remain off-limits. For emergencies, Brick provides five remote ‘unbrick’ allowances to regain access even when away from the device.
In my initial weeks of experimentation, I preferred to brick and unbrick my phone manually, using my own sense of self-awareness to determine when to disconnect. This flexible approach allowed me to acknowledge moments of unhealthy compulsion and intervene immediately, without feeling stifled by rigid timetables. Over time, I suspect that the scheduling feature will prove invaluable as I work toward deeper habit reformation.
My most destructive phone use typically occurs at home. Brief scrolls between subway stops or during office breaks do little harm, but hours lost on the couch after work or on lazy weekends erode my focus and joy. Thus, I began placing the Brick prominently in my apartment. While my roommates used it outdoors—to enhance concentration while reading—I found it transformative when implemented in my nightly routine. One evening, after bricking my phone, I wrote in my journal for an uninterrupted hour and a half, fully absorbed in the act without any notification-induced interruptions.
I also developed a routine of ‘bricking’ before bed. As my roommate aptly described, the sensation resembles shutting down a household computer for the night. Occasionally, I’d be tempted to send a late text or check one final update; yet doing so would require me to physically leave the comfort of my bed, walk down the hallway, and unbrick the phone attached magnetically to the refrigerator. The inconvenience worked wonders—it made each potential distraction an intentional decision rather than an impulse. In the mornings, I would unbrick the phone as part of my breakfast ritual, giving myself roughly an hour to reengage with communications before beginning work.
My professional mornings now begin with another deliberate ‘brick.’ The ensuing hour of silence yields a clarity akin to the uninterrupted focus I remember having while doing homework on an airplane before in-flight Wi-Fi existed. Without the persistent lure of notifications, my productivity thrives. I occasionally reward myself after deep work sessions with a brief unbrick—a quick check of messages or short scroll—before bricking again. This rhythmic dynamic mirrors the Pomodoro technique, but instead of structuring time around work and rest intervals, it structures attention and detachment.
What makes the experience effective for me is the psychological shift the Brick encourages. It reframes app access from an entitlement into a privilege earned through patience and discipline. The device directly exposes how disproportionate my compulsive checking behavior is compared to the scarce number of actual notifications I receive. Moreover, where Screen Time relies on negative reinforcement—reminding users that they have exceeded their limit—Brick employs appreciation-based motivation. Each time the phone is bricked, a timer widget appears, celebrating the duration I remain offline. Viewing these accumulated spans of disconnection feels empowering; each successful stretch of offline time becomes a small personal victory.
The interface also records historical data, allowing me to track daily ‘brick’ totals. The consistent positive feedback subtly strengthens my confidence that I can, in fact, go without digital stimuli for extended intervals.
That said, the product is not flawless. If you set a schedule to brick your phone at, say, 9 a.m., the unbricking process at 5 p.m. still requires having the physical device on hand—an inconvenience if you’re in another location. A friend devised a clever workaround: by creating a secondary schedule immediately after the first concludes and unbricking a random minor app, the system resets itself automatically without requiring the Brick’s physical contact. Another minor drawback appears when traveling; time zone changes aren’t always registered seamlessly, a feature the company could refine further.
Ultimately, my verdict is quite clear. For individuals chronically distracted by their smartphones or seeking a reboot of their relationship with technology, the Brick offers remarkable assistance. In my first full week of consistent use, my screen time fell by approximately seven percent—modest in percentage terms, yet significant in lived effect. More profoundly, the tool enables users to experience self-control not as deprivation but as freedom. By emphasizing affirmation rather than reprimand, the Brick nurtures healthier, more sustainable habits.
Yes, its price—$59—may strike some as steep for a device whose primary function is to enforce restraint. Yet, from my perspective, the return on investment manifests far beyond metrics. The Brick represents a tangible restoration of agency, granting me the mental space and autonomy that endless connectivity had eroded. For those craving improved productivity, mental clarity, and a renewed sense of presence both in and out of the workplace, this unassuming gray cube may very well prove invaluable.
Sourse: https://www.zdnet.com/article/brick-iphone-review/
