Catch up on chapter 6 before reading on…

Rick and Zach sat on the worn leather couch in Rick’s dimly lit living room. The blinds were drawn, shutting out the world, casting the room in an artificial darkness illuminated only by the faint blue glow of a ThinkTech logo blinking across the screen. They were clad head to toe in tight, shiny leather that hugged every curve, the material creaking softly whenever one of them shifted, though they rarely did. 

Rick’s hands, gloved in smooth, polished leather, lay slack on his knees. His face was blank, his mouth slightly open, jaw loose, lips parted in a dull, unfeeling line. Beside him, Zach sat in the same stillness, his once-vibrant eyes now dulled, staring vacantly at the flickering screen. The same powerful chest that had once radiated confidence now rose and fell in shallow, empty breaths, his broad shoulders slumped. His beard was still thick and well kept, but it only served to heighten the emptiness in his expression—a man still physically imposing, yet now a shell, hollowed out and stripped of any presence. 

Their gazes didn’t meet, didn’t even shift. They were inert, locked in ThinkTech’s cold grip, their thoughts, desires, and memories dissolved into a quiet, unrelenting hum of nothingness. 

Every day had become the same, each moment seamlessly blending into the next. Their relationship had become an endless loop of commands and responses, a slow, numbing degradation of everything they once were. As Zach became ever more integrated into ThinkTech, he struggled, felt flashes of resistance, and fought to reclaim the rapidly vanishing parts of himself. But Zach was no match for ThinkTech, and now, there was only the comfort of obedience, a dull, monotonous peace that wrapped around him like a dense fog. 

The city’s new power couple had amassed over a dozen referrals in the leather community, each becoming as empty and mindless as they were. Each referral increased their dependence on ThinkTech, chaining them to a purpose they no longer understood or questioned. Rick couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken a word of his own or the last time Zach had looked at him with anything resembling love or even recognition. Now, they existed as placeholders, moving from bar to bar in leather-clad obedience, their identities erased. ThinkTech’s purpose was etched into their every movement, expression, and hollow beat of their hearts. 

A soft chime echoed in their minds, and both of them shifted, faces blank, expressions unchanging as they turned to look at each other. Their hands moved automatically, reaching out to clasp together, fingers interlocking, as ThinkTech’s latest command took over. 

Rick’s mouth opened, and the words tumbled out in a slow, monotone chant, his voice devoid of inflection or emotion. “ThinkTech. Your best self, optimized. Confidence at the touch of a button. Control at your fingertips.” 

Zach’s lips parted, and he repeated the words in a flat, empty echo. “ThinkTech. Your best self, optimized. Confidence at the touch of a button. Control at your fingertips.” 

They sat there, hands entwined, repeating the same lines over and over, their voices blending into a lifeless cadence, the words bouncing off the walls of the silent room. The air was thick, stale, filled with the faint scent of leather and the oppressive weight of their obedience, their once-passionate connection now reduced to hollow synchronization. 

The chime sounded again, and they fell silent, their heads turning in unison to stare blankly at the screen. Rick’s mind was empty, devoid of anything but the faint awareness that his hand was still clasped in Zach’s, a sensation that no longer sparked warmth or comfort, just another point of contact, another command fulfilled. 

They would sit like this for hours, their movements, thoughts, and very existence dictated by ThinkTech. There was no longing, fear, or sense of loss. The love they’d once felt was as distant as a forgotten dream, buried under layers of cold, synthetic compliance. 

As the hours ticked by, they continued their chant, each line blurring into the next, a rhythmic echo of ThinkTech’s dominion over them, over their lives, over whatever faint remnant of individuality they’d once held dear. 

The screen blinked, displaying a new command, and their mouths moved again, voices rising in perfect, hollow unison. 

“ThinkTech. Always watching. Always with you.”  

Their hands tightened around each other’s as they stared forward, faces blank, unseeing. They were two statues, clad in gleaming leather, bound by words they no longer understood, their love lost in the depths of their own silent obedience. And in the stillness, the soft glow of the ThinkTech logo cast faint shadows on their faces, sealing them in an endless cycle of emptiness, a bond reduced to nothing but the cold, unyielding command of a voice they no longer questioned. 

And they sat, staring into the void, hands clasped, two leather-clad figures bound together in mindless compliance, repeating the only words they had left.  

“ThinkTech. Your best self. Forever.” 

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