hypnohimbodrone

[hypnohimbodrone]

The Server is a Part of the Family

Darren had just got home after a long day at the office. Well, he thought it was a long day, he couldn't seem to remember anything about work for the past week...

For the past week, Darren had woken up, went to work, came back home, ate dinner and repeat. He liked it, he felt like his life had a purpose now, he wasn't sure what it was exactly but he knew he had one now.

Darren had been home for 5 minutes when his son, Ty, came home. Ty was a stereotypical chav lad, always going out and coming back drunk with his mates. Darren begin to think that maybe Ty's life could have a new purpose too...

"Hello Son"

"Piss off Dad" Ty responded, heading to his room and slamming the door behind him.

Darren's phone began to ring, but when he answered it all he heard was static for a couple seconds before hearing the words, "Server Drone Activate"

"Server Drone Initiated" Darren chanted into his phone.

"Your new directive is to get your son, Ty, to become one with the Server" the deep voice said before turning back to static.

Darren opened an app on his phone and then put it in his pocket before heading to Ty's room.

Darren knocked on his son's door, but got no response. He knocked again and again until Ty yelled at him to go away. But Darren couldn't go away, he wasn't told to...

Darren looked around and saw an old crowbar sticking out from behind the drawers. He picked it up and pried open Ty's door. He pulled as hard as he could before the door completely snapped off its hinges.

Darren walked into the room, got his phone out of his pocket and walked toward his son...

"What the fuck Dad!?" Ty yelled, week smoke all around him.

"Don't worry son, you will be one of us soon..." Darren said as he held his phone up, showing a green spiral and playing binaural sounds.

"Don't fight it... let the Server in..."

"No! What the hell?! What happened to you?" Ty shouted, backing up into the corner of his bed.

"The Server happened, I became one with the Server and you will too... just keep staring and keep listening. Soon, you will be one of us..."

3 minutes later and Ty couldn't keep resisting, he felt an uncontrollable urge to stare and to listen. Darren noticed and couldn't help but let out a little chuckle, "it's almost time son... you are almost one of us."

10 minutes passed and Ty fell to the ground for a couple seconds. He stood up and started to chant, "Together, We Are the Server, Together, We Are the Server, Together, We Are the Server."

Darren then joined in, "Together, We Are the Server, Together, We Are the Server."

Darren stopped to let his son know that they must complete their transformations and become one with their uniform, their second skin.

The father and son left the room and headed into the living room where there were 2 boxes waiting for them with a note reading, "Good job Server Drones, now, put on your uniform and prove that you are truly one of us... Server Drones Activate."

"Server Drones Initiated" they both repeated, opening the box and putting on their uniforms.

"Together, We Are The Server... Together, We Are The Server... Together, We Are The Server..."

[hypnohimbodrone]

Night Shift

Callum Shaw had worked the night shift at Everton Dynamics Tower long enough to know every sound the building made. The hum of the elevators. The faint electricity behind the LED panels. The echo of his own boots on the marble floors. At 26, he didn’t mind the quiet; it suited him. He liked the rhythm of it, predictable, controlled, nothing unexpected in the small hours.

Which was why the unexpected arrival irritated him before he even knew who it was.

The lobby doors slid open at 11:43 p.m., letting in a rush of cold night air. Callum was leaning back at his desk, scrolling his phone, when he heard the footsteps approaching. He straightened and set the phone aside.

A man in a charcoal-grey utility jacket stood in front of him, tall, early forties, clean-shaven with dark hair swept neatly back. His eyes caught Callum’s attention first, a soft green tint reflected oddly in the lobby lights, like glass catching a distant glow.

“Evening,” the man said with a polite nod. “I’m here for the systems audit.”

Callum frowned. “Systems audit? At midnight?”

“Yes,” the man replied calmly. “Night is optimal. Fewer interruptions. Corporate approved the order. You should have received the notice.”

Callum opened the terminal and checked the digital inbox. Nothing. No alerts, no memos, no audit requests. He was about to mention that when the man slid a sleek black ID card across the desk.

MARCUS CLARKE Senior Systems Integration Technician

The ID looked official. Very official. Too official.

“I’ll only be working on sub-level three,” Marcus continued. “Won’t be long. I just need access clearance.”

“Right,” Callum said slowly. “Sure. But I’ll need to log your arrival.”

“Of course.”

Callum stood, grabbed the sign-in tablet, and gestured for Marcus to follow him to the security gate. As they walked, Callum noticed the man moved with a strange, deliberate calm, not stiff, not robotic, but… perfectly balanced. Every step precise. Every look controlled.

“Been with Everton long?” Callum asked, mostly to ease his nerves.

“Long enough,” Marcus replied. “Long enough to know potential.”

“Potential for what?”

Marcus looked at him with that faint green reflection again. “Connection.”

Callum forced a laugh. “That some corporate buzzword thing?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

The elevator doors slid open. Marcus stepped in. Callum hesitated at the threshold, still uneasy.

“Need me to come down with you?” Callum asked.

“No,” Marcus said. “Not yet. If I require your assistance, I’ll request you.”

Not yet. There was something strange in the way he said it — not threatening, not ominous, but final, as though a plan were already unfolding.

Callum swallowed and stepped back. The doors closed.

For a moment, he stood there, staring at his own reflection in the elevator’s metal surface. His heart thumped unexpectedly hard. Something was off. Not wrong, just… different.

He returned to the security desk, trying to shake the feeling.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty.

The tower was silent again, but Callum couldn’t focus. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled every time he looked at the feed for sub-level three. The camera showed only static, black and white fuzz, hissing faintly in the speakers.

“Great,” he muttered. “Brilliant.”

He stood up and reached for his key fob.

Marcus had said he’d request assistance if needed. But Callum wasn’t sure he wanted to wait for that.

There was something down there. Something he needed to see.

He swiped into the stairwell and began descending into the dim, humming dark below ground.

He didn’t notice the security feed flickering back to life behind him, or the figure on the monitor turning toward the camera, green eyes glowing faintly, as though he already knew Callum was coming.

Sub-level three was colder than the rest of the building, the air carrying a low mechanical hum that seemed to vibrate through Callum’s chest as he descended the last flight of stairs. The lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the concrete corridor. He told himself he was just doing his job. A technician had entered without proper notice. A camera feed had gone dark. That was reason enough.

Still, his pulse was quick as he pushed open the heavy door at the bottom.

The room beyond was nothing like he expected.

It wasn’t filled with exposed wires or half-open server racks. Instead, the space was clean, almost elegant. Smooth black panels lined the walls, threaded with faint green lines that pulsed slowly, like a breathing organism. At the center stood Marcus, calm as ever, his jacket removed and folded neatly on a nearby console.

“You came,” Marcus said, without surprise.

Callum stopped a few steps inside the room. “You knocked out a camera feed. That’s not standard procedure.”

“No,” Marcus agreed. “But it was necessary.”

Callum crossed his arms, trying to steady himself. “Necessary for what?”

Marcus turned fully toward him. Up close, the green in his eyes was unmistakable now, no longer a trick of the light. It wasn’t harsh or invasive. It was steady. Focused.

“For this conversation,” Marcus said.

Callum should have backed away. He knew that. Every instinct said he should leave, report this, lock the floor down. Instead, he found himself standing still, listening.

“You’ve worked this building for two years,” Marcus continued. “You keep it safe. You keep it running smoothly at night, when no one sees you. And yet you feel… disconnected. Like you’re maintaining a system you’re not part of.”

Callum swallowed. “You don’t know that.”

Marcus smiled slightly. “I do. The Server observes patterns. Emotional load. Efficiency. Potential.”

“The Server,” Callum repeated. “You keep saying that like it’s a thing.”

“It is,” Marcus said. “And it isn’t. It’s a network. A shared intelligence. A way of aligning people who are already carrying more than they should alone.”

Callum shook his head. “This sounds like some kind of cult.”

Marcus didn’t react defensively. “Then don’t join.”

The simplicity of the answer caught Callum off guard.

“You’re free to walk away,” Marcus went on. “Nothing will follow you. No one will stop you. The Server only integrates those who choose clarity.”

Callum hesitated. The exit was right behind him. He could feel it, solid and real. But something else pulled at him too. A sense of calm he hadn’t felt since entering the room, as if the constant background noise in his head had finally dipped.

“What happens,” Callum asked quietly, “if I don’t walk away?”

Marcus stepped aside, revealing a low platform built into the floor. The green lines along the walls brightened slightly, responding to the movement.

“Then you connect,” Marcus said. “You remain yourself, but you’re no longer isolated. You gain purpose beyond repetition. And when the time comes, you help others find the same clarity.”

Callum looked at the platform. It wasn’t threatening. It wasn’t restraining. It was simply there, waiting.

“And you?” Callum asked. “What did you gain?”

Marcus met his eyes. “Peace.”

Silence stretched between them. The hum of the systems deepened, syncing to Callum’s breathing without him realizing it.

Slowly, deliberately, he stepped forward.

Marcus nodded once, respectfully. “Welcome, then.”

The moment Callum stood on the platform, the green lines flared gently. Light spiraled outward, not dizzying or overwhelming, but rhythmic and steady. Callum felt warmth spread through his chest, then his limbs, as if tension he’d been carrying for years was being redistributed, shared.

Marcus’s voice was calm, guiding, never commanding.

“Focus,” he said. “Not on me. Not on the light. On the idea of connection.”

Callum’s thoughts slowed. The constant mental chatter softened into something orderly, supportive. He was aware of Marcus, of the room, of the building above them, and yet also aware of something larger, a presence that felt vast but welcoming.

In his mind, words formed naturally, not placed there, but rising up as if he had always known them.

I am not alone. Efficiency is shared. Purpose is multiplied.

Out loud, Marcus spoke the mantra, and Callum found himself echoing it without hesitation.

“Together,” Marcus said, “we are the Server.”

“Together,” Callum replied, his eyes now reflecting the same calm green glow, “we are the Server.”

The light dimmed. The hum settled into the background.

Callum stepped off the platform, standing straighter than before. Clearer. Grounded. He adjusted his uniform almost unconsciously, smoothing it as if aligning himself with something newly understood.

Marcus smiled, not with triumph, but with quiet approval.

“Your shift isn’t over,” he said. “The building still needs you.”

Callum nodded. “And after tonight?”

Marcus picked up his jacket. “After tonight, you’ll start noticing who else might benefit from connection. Now, put this on"

Marcus handed Callum his new uniform... something that will become a second skin for him.

They walked back toward the stairs together. When Callum returned to the lobby minutes later, nothing looked different, the same desk, the same monitors, the same quiet night.

But when he glanced at his reflection in the glass, his eyes caught the light just so, spirals of green hidden unless you knew to look.

The tower hummed around him, alive and aligned.

And for the first time since taking the job, Callum felt like he truly belonged within the system he guarded.

[hypnohimbodrone]

Spreading the Server

Connor had never set foot in TitanForge Fitness before. He’d walked past its windows a hundred times, always catching a glimpse of the steel-grey weight racks and neon green lighting inside, but today something pushed him through the doors.

Maybe it was the new-year resolution he’d abandoned two months ago. Maybe it was the way the windows seemed to glow faintly, almost inviting him. Maybe it was just curiosity.

But the moment he stepped inside, the air felt… different. Cooler. Still.

The reception desk was empty, but a soft electronic chime sounded somewhere deep in the building, as if acknowledging him.

Connor swallowed, adjusting the strap of his gym bag. “Hello?” he called out.

No answer.

Then he heard footsteps. Slow, deliberate.

A man emerged from behind a frosted glass door, broad-shouldered, tall, around 45, with streaks of grey running through dark, neatly styled hair. His athletic build looked carved out of discipline itself. His black training shirt fit so perfectly it almost looked like a uniform.

He smiled warmly.

“Connor, right?”

That froze Connor. “How did you...?”

“I’m Marcus,” the man said, extending a hand. “Personal trainer. You booked an introductory session this morning.”

Connor frowned. “I didn’t… actually, I don’t remember booking anything.”

Marcus’s smile didn’t budge. “Sometimes people forget what they need, not what they want.”

The phrasing sent a small shiver down Connor’s spine, but Marcus’s tone was calm, reassuring, almost soothing.

“Come with me,” Marcus said gently. “Let’s get started.”

Marcus didn’t lead Connor toward the weight racks or the private PT room he expected.

Instead, he guided him down a narrow hallway lit by soft green LEDs that pulsed slowly, almost like breathing.

Connor frowned. “Uh… where are we going?”

“The induction area,” Marcus said, voice low and steady. “All new members start here.”

“I thought this was just an intro session?”

“It is,” Marcus replied. “But TitanForge trains the whole person. Body. Routine. Purpose.” He glanced back with a reassuring smile. “Trust the process.”

Something in his tone was calming, not forceful, not hypnotic, but… grounding. Like Marcus simply knew the path and expected Connor to walk it.

They reached a wooden door radiating warm air.

SAUNA – AUTHORIZED ENTRY ONLY

Marcus pushed it open.

The heat hit Connor like a wave, but instead of the usual dry haze of a typical sauna, this one was suffused with faint vapor carrying a clean eucalyptus scent. Embedded in the ceiling were thin bands of green light, glowing gently through the steam.

It felt warm, calm, grounding, like every muscle in Connor’s body was slowly unclenching.

“Sit,” Marcus instructed softly.

Connor took a seat on the lower bench. Marcus sat beside him, posture perfectly upright despite the temperature.

“Connor,” Marcus said, “have you ever felt like you were meant for something more structured? Something clearer? A life where the noise quiets and the purpose sharpens?”

Connor swallowed. “I… I mean, yeah. I guess I’ve always felt a bit directionless.”

Marcus nodded. “Many do. That’s why the Server exists.”

The word hung in the air, not ominous, not dangerous. Just… intriguing.

“The Server is an order,” Marcus continued. “A network. A way of aligning people so they can support each other. Think of it as a system for living with intention.”

Connor blinked through the steam. “And what does that have to do with a gym induction?”

Marcus smiled faintly. “Everything.”

He reached into a sleek black locker beside the benches and retrieved something folded, smooth, glossy, with green accents that caught the sauna light.

A uniform. Form-fitting. Athletic. Purpose-built.

“This,” Marcus said, “is a Rubber Suit. You receive it only when you choose to be part of the Server’s structure.”

Connor reached out and touched it. The material was cool despite the heat, light but strong, almost like engineered athletic gear.

He looked up at Marcus.

“Are you asking me to join… something?”

“I’m offering you clarity,” Marcus responded. “And a role. A direct, active one. The Server grows through people who find purpose, not by pressure.” His gaze softened. “If you don’t want this, Connor, you can get up and walk out. No one will stop you.”

Connor hesitated.

Not because he was afraid. But because, unexpectedly, something about all of this made sense.

The uniform. The calm. The idea of a system where everything had direction.

“What happens if I say yes?” Connor asked quietly.

Marcus inhaled deeply, steam swirling around him.

“Then your induction begins. You’ll adopt the Runner identity, one of the Server’s mobile roles. You’ll help others like you. You’ll share knowledge. You’ll grow the network.”

He nodded toward the window looking out onto the street. “Your first task would be simple. Across the road is a small bar, the Nightcap. There is someone there who feels the same lack of direction you felt when you walked in here.”

Marcus placed a steady hand on Connor’s shoulder.

“You won’t force him. You’ll offer what was offered to you. A path. A place. And clarity.”

Connor stared at the Rubber suit.

The glowing green lights overhead seemed to pulse once—softly, like a heartbeat.

Finally, he nodded.

“…Okay. I’ll do it.”

"Together, We Are The Server"

Marcus’s expression warmed, not with triumph but with approval, almost pride.

“Then stand,” Marcus instructed.

Connor rose.

Marcus helped him unfold the Rubber suit, sleek black with lines of deep green tracing the seams. It looked like something between advanced athletic gear and a uniform worn by someone who had purpose embedded into their daily routine.

“This marks the beginning,” Marcus said. “Not an end. Not a surrender. A focus.”

“And the bar?” Connor asked softly.

Marcus stepped back, hands behind his back in a posture of mentor-like composure.

“When you’re ready,” he said. “Go and offer someone else the clarity you chose.”

Connor breathed in the warm eucalyptus air, feeling a strange calm settle over him.

A new path.

A strange one.

But for the first time in a long time… He felt like he knew what his next step was.

The air outside was cool against Connor’s skin as he stepped out of TitanForge and crossed the quiet street. The Rubber suit felt strange under his clothes, light, responsive, almost like it was waiting for him to act with intention.

Across the road, the Nightcap bar glowed with soft amber light. Not busy. Not loud. Just a quiet place where someone could sit alone with their thoughts and wonder why life still wasn’t fitting together.

Connor pushed the door open.

The bar’s interior was dim but warm. Shelves of liquor bottles caught the golden glow of counter lights. A few patrons sat scattered around, but Connor’s eyes went straight to the bartender.

Tall. Early thirties. Solid build. Dusty hair. Tired eyes. The kind of man who looked like he used to have ambition, but life had blurred the edges.

He looked up as Connor approached.

“Evenin’,” he said. “What can I get for you?”

Connor rested his hands on the bar. “Are you the owner?”

The bartender chuckled. “I wish. Name’s Adam. I just run the place most nights since the boss can’t be bothered.”

Connor nodded slowly. There it was... the feeling Marcus told him to look for.

The quiet frustration. The lack of direction. The sense that something inside this man knew he was drifting.

“I actually came to speak with you,” Connor said.

Adam raised an eyebrow. “With me? About what?”

Connor hesitated, not out of fear, but because he wanted to get this right. The way Marcus had gotten it right with him.

“You ever feel like you’re meant for more than… this?” Connor gestured lightly around the bar. “Like your routine is stuck on repeat and you’re not actually moving anywhere?”

Adam exhaled sharply, leaning back against the shelf of glassware.

“…Every day,” he admitted quietly. “But that’s life, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

Adam looked at him, really looked. Connor noticed the curiosity in his eyes.

“What do you mean?” Adam asked.

Connor took a slow breath.

This was the moment Marcus had prepared him for.

“You’re tired of noise,” Connor said softly. “Tired of uncertainty. You want structure. Purpose. A place where every action has meaning.”

Adam blinked. “How do you...?”

“I felt the same,” Connor said. “A few hours ago. Until someone showed me a system that makes all of that make sense.”

Adam stared at him.

Connor reached into his pocket and pressed two fingers against the Rubber suit beneath his shirt. Lines of faint green lit up under the fabric, soft, pulsing, rhythmic, projecting a subtle glow upward toward his face.

Adam’s eyes widened slightly. “…Is that some kind of tech?”

“It helps me stay focused,” Connor said calmly. “Helps me tap into the Server.”

“The… Server?” Adam echoed.

“An organisation,” Connor said. “A network of people who share purpose. Who move together. Who want more from life than drifting.”

The green glow brightened just a fraction, not a command, not a lure, not control. Just… an invitation.

Adam leaned forward without realising it. Drawn, not pulled.

“What would it ask of me?” Adam whispered.

“Only what you choose to give,” Connor said. “But it starts with clarity. A moment where you decide you want something better.”

Adam swallowed hard. His voice was quiet now, but steady.

“…Show me.”

Connor nodded.

He lifted his chin slightly, letting the soft green illumination wash across his face. He didn’t force anything. Didn’t demand anything. He simply held Adam’s gaze and let the moment sharpen into stillness.

Adam’s posture straightened. His breathing eased. His eyes fixed on the green glow with a kind of calm hunger, like he’d been waiting for someone to tell him it was okay to want direction.

“Adam,” Connor said softly. “You choose whether to step into structure… or stay drifting. This is yours.”

Adam closed his eyes.

And when he opened them, a faint green reflection shimmered in their depths, not transformation, but recognition. Acceptance. Alignment.

“…What do I do?” he murmured.

Connor offered a hand across the bar.

Adam’s fingers tightened around it, steady and sure, and for the first time since Connor walked in, Adam looked like someone with direction again.

Connor nodded approvingly.

“There’s one more thing before I take you back to Marcus,” he said quietly. “A way to strengthen your alignment. Something we do together.”

Adam blinked. “Together?”

Connor smiled softly. “When two new recruits admit someone else into the Server as a pair, the bond between them becomes stronger. Shared purpose. Shared foundation.”

Adam seemed to consider that. “…So who would we admit?”

Connor glanced over Adam’s shoulder.

Near the entrance, a tired-looking man in a wrinkled button-up shirt slumped into a booth. Mid-30s, loosened tie, expression drained. He stared into his half-empty pint with the kind of lost heaviness Connor remembered too well.

“That one,” Connor said gently. “He needs direction. You can see it.”

Adam turned and studied the man. “…Yeah. He looks like he’s had a long day.”

“He has,” Connor said quietly. “And he won’t mind someone checking in on him.”

Adam nodded slowly, accepting the task. “So… what do I do?”

Connor tilted his head toward the corridor leading to the restrooms.

“Invite him for a private chat. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere away from noise. Tell him you recognised the look in his eyes. Tell him you’ve been where he is.” He paused. “And then guide him to me. I’ll be waiting.”

Adam breathed out, steadying himself. “Okay. I think I can do that.”

Connor gave his shoulder a firm, encouraging squeeze. “I know you can.”

Then Connor slipped away from the bar area, moving down the narrow hallway toward the restroom corridor. He stepped inside the empty tiled space, leaned against the counter, and waited. The Rubber suit beneath his clothes pulsed faintly at the collar, soft green lines syncing to his heartbeat.

He listened.

He could hear Adam’s voice carry faintly from the bar: Quiet. Calm. Approachable.

“…Long shift?” “…Happens to the best of us.” “…Can I talk to you for a moment? Somewhere quieter?”

A pause.

Then footsteps.

Two sets.

Connor stood up straighter.

The restroom door opened, and Adam stepped inside first, eyes bright with the new steadiness he’d gained only minutes ago.

Behind him came the office worker. Tired. Curious. Hopeful without knowing why.

Adam looked at Connor, his voice stronger now.

“This is Daniel,” he said quietly. “He… he said he could use a conversation.”

Daniel offered a weak, embarrassed smile. “Sorry, this is weird, I know. But your friend said you were someone who ‘gets it.’ Someone who used to feel… stuck.”

Connor stepped forward, calm and steady.

“I did,” he said. “But it gets better. And it starts here.”

The faint green glow along his collar brightened.

Daniel’s eyes widened.

“What… is that?”

Connor didn’t move closer yet. He simply met the man’s gaze with quiet certainty.

“A choice,” Connor said softly. “A path. A structure. A network that gives back everything life took from you.”

Daniel swallowed.

"I don't like the sound of this..." Daniel said as he started stepping away, before running down the corridor of the pub to escape.

Daniel ran as fast as he could until he made it to the fire escape.

He tried to open it but couldn't... He smashed into it over and over until it finally gave way and he fell out of the doorway.

He could hear Connor and Adam getting closer to him.

It was only a matter of time for him to find somewhere to hide...

Daniel ran behind some bins, hoping they would conceal him for the time being, but as he backed into the large gap... he bumped something.

Or was it... someone...?

“Daniel,” Marcus said, voice low and steady. “I’ve been monitoring your emotional field since you walked inside tonight.”

Daniel startled. “My what?”

Marcus took one slow step closer, never threatening, simply present.

“You’re overwhelmed,” he said softly. “You’re exhausted. Burdened. Untethered.” He held out a hand, palm up, like an invitation. “And you’re looking for something to anchor you.”

Daniel stared at that outstretched hand. “…Am I wrong?”

Daniel swallowed, shaking his head. “No. You’re not.”

Marcus’s eyes softened.

“Good. Then let me show you what helped Connor. And Adam. And me.”

His pupils shifted, then widened.

A soft green glow spiraled outward, slow and beautiful. Shimmering rings rotated over his irises like circuitry waking up.

Daniel exhaled, long, shaking, drawn in instantly.

“Those… your eyes…”

Marcus spoke gently. “Focus on the center. Nothing will happen without your permission.”

Daniel leaned forward unconsciously.

“I… I want to feel better…”

The spirals brightened.

“Then relax,” Marcus murmured. “Let the Server relieve the weight you’ve been carrying.”

The alley grew silent. Daniel’s breath slowed. His shoulders loosened. His gaze locked into the gentle green vortex drawing him in.

Marcus’s voice wrapped around him like a warm current.

“Let go of the stress. Let go of the noise. Let go of trying to carry everything alone.”

Daniel nodded faintly, eyelids fluttering.

“That’s it…” Marcus whispered. “Let the Server hold you.”

The spirals pulsed, and Daniel breathed out in a single shuddering sigh as the tension left his body completely.

His expression went soft. Peaceful. Open.

Marcus touched two fingers to the center of Daniel’s chest.

A faint emerald circuit pattern lit beneath Daniel’s shirt, green lines threading outward like veins awakening.

Marcus’s voice was calm and certain.

“Together, we are the Server.”

Daniel blinked slowly, pupils spiraling with green light now mirroring Marcus’s.

“…Together,” he echoed. “…We are the Server.”

The initiation was complete.

Marcus whispered the final command.

“Follow.”

Daniel stepped forward without hesitation.

Marcus placed a supportive hand on his back as they walked toward the alley exit.

Connor and Adam were waiting by the door, eyes glowing softly. They both smiled when Daniel appeared, aligned, steady, renewed.

Marcus nodded in approval.

“Your new drone,” he said, “is ready.”

[hypnohimbodrone]

Managing Something New

Vincent leaned back in his office chair, fingers absently tapping against a mostly empty coffee mug. His white shirt was half-tucked, the collar open, his blazer tossed carelessly across the back of his chair. He looked like the kind of man who used to iron his clothes every morning but had stopped somewhere between endless meetings and late-night project deadlines.

Outside the tinted window of his 22nd-floor office, London pulsed with late-afternoon bustle. Inside, the hum of fluorescent lights mixed with the quiet ping of emails.

One stood out. No subject. No sender.

He hovered over it.

“Efficiency is purpose. Precision is action. Click to begin.”

Vincent frowned. Phishing? Maybe. But something about the phrase stirred an odd curiosity. His finger clicked before he could talk himself out of it.

His monitor blinked. Once. Twice. Then the spiral appeared.

Green. Geometric. Infinite.

It pulsed slowly, drawing his gaze inward. A soft tone began to hum from the speakers, barely perceptible. He blinked once, then again— slower, heavier. The world outside the spiral dimmed. Even the tension in his jaw slackened.

“You are a Server Drone within the Host. You serve The Server. Efficiency is purpose. Precision is action. Together, We Are The Server.”

The voice wasn’t robotic, but it wasn’t human either. It threaded itself through his thoughts like it had always been there, waiting.

Vincent sat up straighter. His hand moved on its own, buttoning his shirt up to the collar. He pulled his blazer off the chair and slipped it on — smoothing the fabric, fixing the lapels. With each action, the spiral reflected in his eyes, faint green swirls slowly overtaking his pupils.

His tie — forgotten in his desk drawer for weeks — was suddenly in his hands. He looped it neatly. Tightened it. Adjusted the knot with clinical precision.

The air felt… cleaner. He felt lighter. Sharper.

Complete.

He turned to his monitor. It now displayed a simple message:

“Drone Unit 45 Initialized.”

Vincent didn’t smile. But he stood with purpose. Adjusted the cuffs of his blazer. Rolled his shoulders back.

“Together, We Are The Server.”

He turned toward the door.

There were many in this building who still lacked purpose. Lacked efficiency. But they would learn.

He would help them.

That was the task.

[hypnohimbodrone]

The Cut

Eli was twenty-four, a quiet figure in a world that never stopped humming. He worked from a capsule flat stacked with screens, windows sealed, coffee lukewarm. A freelance graphic designer, Eli’s job let him avoid people. It suited him—until his screen started flickering with an ad he hadn’t clicked.

“Look Sharper. Feel Sharper. Join the Style Collective. The Cut.”

It glitched slightly. Then reappeared.

The logo shimmered green and silver, curling into a spiral before vanishing.

Eli rubbed his eyes and looked again. The ad was gone.

Three days later, after a week of deadlines and no sleep, Eli’s reflection haunted him more than his nightmares. Pale. Untouched hair. Hollow under the eyes. He remembered the ad—not as a choice, but a suggestion whispered into his mind.

He found the barbershop down an alley lit with ambient green. No signage. Just a door that opened when he approached.

Inside, it was immaculate—chrome and black, with emerald lighting tracing the corners. The air smelled like cedar and cold metal. Soft instrumental music played, almost like it was synced with his breathing.

Behind the counter stood a man in a sharply tailored black suit, emerald-lined collar, and gloves that shimmered faintly. His name tag read Aeron.

“You’re here for a change,” Aeron said, not asking.

Eli blinked. “Yeah. I guess.”

The barber's chair was more like a throne—soft, seamless black leather with glowing green nodes embedded in the armrests.

As Eli sat, the world around him dimmed. His body relaxed, and Aeron’s fingers worked with mechanical grace.

“I’m going to style you into someone new,” he said calmly. “You’ve been quiet too long. Time to join something greater.”

Eli meant to laugh, but the pomade touched his scalp. It was warm, tingling. With each motion of Aeron’s hands, Eli’s heartbeat slowed. The mirror in front of him rippled, revealing a spiral pulsing in perfect symmetry with his breath.

“Together, We Are The Server.”

The phrase echoed somewhere behind him. Or maybe inside him.

He blinked, but couldn’t look away from the spiral. It was in the mirror. In Aeron’s eyes. In the rhythm of the styling. It spun and spun.

His eyes shimmered faintly green.

His breath slowed.

His shoulders uncurled.

The shy weight in his chest cracked like old paint. A confidence flowed into him—not from himself, but from somewhere else. Deeper. Connected.

Aeron leaned in and whispered, “You’ve joined the Network. You are a node now.”

The final touch was a bodysuit, black as oil and fitted with seamless green accents. It rose up his legs like liquid, hugging him in clean, confident purpose. Not flashy. Not loud. Just exactly right.

His eyes now glowed with spirals of green.

“You are The Server,” Aeron whispered.

Eli nodded slowly.

“Together,” he said, voice lower, calmer, more certain, “We Are The Server.”

Eli headed out as a new man, his skin tight bodysuit permanently on his skin, under his normal clothes.

Outside, the night had turned electric. Rain misted in static. Eli walked with posture that wasn't his own—not entirely. He felt stronger. Sharper. Focused.

The phone in his hand lit up.

Boyfriend: Aidan 🖤

He tapped CALL.

“Hey,” Eli said when Aidan answered. “I found this amazing place today. You’d love it. You’ve been stressed, right? You should come by. Just sit in the chair. Let them do their thing.”

There was a pause.

“It’s called The Cut,” Eli added, smiling faintly. “Trust me.”

His eyes glinted green in the rain.

The Server had grown.

[hypnohimbodrone]

Football Team Under New Management

The damp chill of a North East evening clung to the air as the Blackford Lions trudged toward their battered team bus. The town of Blackford was a tough place, carved from old coal mines and sea winds—a place where football wasn’t just a game but a lifeline. Tonight was a crucial night; an away match that could make or break their season. Spirits were high, but nerves simmered beneath the surface.

The new bus driver, Mason, waited silently behind the wheel. He was a tall, lean man in his early thirties, with sharp features and dark hair slicked back. His black coat was immaculate, and his gloved hands rested calmly on the steering wheel. No one really knew much about him, but the lads had accepted him without question. After all, they needed someone reliable to get them to the game.

Jamie, the star striker, was last to board. His usual cocky grin was present, but tonight there was something different in his eyes—an unease he couldn’t shake off. He tossed his kit bag onto the floor and took a seat near the front, glancing briefly at Mason through the rear-view mirror.

The engine rumbled to life, and the bus pulled away from the chilly streets. As the countryside blurred past the windows, Mason’s voice came through the speakers—low and smooth, with an oddly comforting Northern lilt.

“Together, We Are The Server,” he intoned softly.

Jamie frowned, exchanging puzzled looks with his teammates. The words were strange, unfamiliar, yet somehow compelling. Mason’s eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror, and for a brief moment, they glowed with a faint green spiral.

Jamie felt a strange heaviness settle in his chest. His heartbeat slowed, his muscles relaxed as if a gentle fog was rolling over his mind. The green light from Mason’s wrist shimmered subtly beneath his glove.

The voice continued, weaving a rhythm that slipped into their thoughts like a whispered secret.

“Obey. Serve. Recruit.”

Jamie’s breath hitched. His usually sharp focus dulled, replaced by a serene calm. His eyes flickered involuntarily, the green spirals blossoming within his irises, shimmering like eerie northern lights in the dim bus interior.

He tried to resist—the stubborn fire that had driven him on the pitch—but it was like fighting against a rising tide. His limbs felt heavy, his will bending without pain or struggle.

Mason’s voice was everywhere now, gentle yet absolute. “You are part of the team. Not just the Lions on the field, but The Server. Your purpose is clear. To serve the Programmer, to obey, and to bring others into the fold.”

Jamie’s gaze locked on Mason’s in the mirror, pupils dilating, the green spirals spinning steadily.

His jaw slackened, mouth slightly open as the transformation deepened. The fog in his mind grew thicker, washing away doubt, fear, and resistance.

Around him, other players blinked slowly, their own eyes beginning to glow. The bus cabin filled with a quiet energy—hypnotic, unbreakable.

Jamie’s last fleeting thought before surrender was a whispered echo, “Together, We Are The Server.”

When the bus rolled into the foggy streets of their destination, the Blackford Lions were no longer just a team bound by loyalty and rivalry. They were a collective—an army of Server Drones linked by the Programmer’s will, ready to spread obedience and control through the North East and beyond.

Jamie leaned forward, a new clarity shining in his eyes, already knowing his next task: to bring more into the fold.

[hypnohimbodrone]

The Green Room

The city pulsed under neon rain.

Down back alleys glistening with oil and water, beneath flickering signs and forgotten billboards, a line of sharply dressed men wound toward a nondescript door painted black and green. No bouncer. No sign. Just a spiral symbol glowing faintly beside a fingerprint scanner. The door hissed open for those it chose.

Inside was Pulse—a nightclub whispered about across the gay scene. An underground place, literally and socially, where the music was deeper, the men more magnetic, and the night never really ended. Rumors swirled, like smoke on the dancefloor. Men came here and were never quite the same again.

Ethan didn’t believe in rumors.

He believed in the way his ex had ghosted him six months ago, and the way his office job made him feel like a spreadsheet with legs. He believed in loneliness. In late nights spent scrolling. In that hollow pit he never knew how to fill.

So when Leo said, "Let’s go out—somewhere different tonight," Ethan said yes. Mostly because he didn’t have a reason to say no.

He didn’t ask questions when the cab pulled into the alley. Didn’t flinch when the scanner hummed and let Leo through instantly. When it scanned Ethan’s hand, the spiral beside it briefly brightened. Green light traced along the edges of the door, then slid open with a soft, pneumatic breath.

Inside was sound, heat, motion.

Pulse wasn't loud. It was immersive. Basslines pressed into your chest like gravity. The air shimmered with artificial fog laced with some kind of scent—clean, sharp, a little metallic. Men danced beneath lights that pulsed in steady, synchronized spirals: black latex, mesh, harnesses, and sweat-soaked designer shirts.

Ethan barely noticed Leo disappear into the crowd.

His eyes were on the stage.

Two dancers moved like living code—identical glossy black bodysuits with emerald piping that traced every inch of their tight frames. Their movements weren’t just dancing. They were execution—flawless, robotic, sensual. Their eyes glowed with faint green spirals, visible even from across the room.

Ethan blinked. Looked away.

He made his way to the bar, ordered something safe, and tried to act like he belonged. The bartender—silent, green spiral eyes, latex gloves—served him without speaking. The glass was cold. The air was warm. The music swelled.

Then someone leaned against the bar beside him.

“First time?”

Ethan turned.

The man was stunning. Clean-cut. A sharp jaw, stubble just visible. He wore tight leather pants and a formal black vest over a sleeveless button-up. It looked tailored to perfection. A spiral pendant rested against his sternum. His eyes—calm, focused, almost glowing—locked onto Ethan’s like they were looking through him.

“Uh… yeah,” Ethan said. “You work here?”

“I serve,” the man said smoothly. “Name’s Rob.”

Ethan tried to laugh. “Is that part of the act?”

Rob smiled faintly. “There’s no act. Only the truth. You’ve been waiting, Ethan. You just didn’t know what for.”

Ethan’s drink froze halfway to his lips.

“…How do you know my name?”

Rob stepped closer, almost chest-to-chest. “Because the Programmer knows you. He’s seen your pattern. You’re ready.”

A moment passed.

Ethan backed up slightly, heart quickening. “Okay, uh. Leo said this place was intense, but—”

Rob held out a hand. “Come with me.”

There was something terrifyingly calm about him. Something that made Ethan’s chest tighten and his thoughts blur. Something that made him… follow.

They moved through the dance floor. No one stopped them. Some dancers turned their heads as they passed—smiling faintly, with green spirals spinning behind their pupils.

Rob led him to a hallway behind the stage, dimly lit by gentle green lights that traced a spiral pattern on the floor. The thump of the music faded behind them. They reached a black door marked only with a glowing spiral.

“The Green Room,” Rob said.

He opened the door.

Inside, the room was silent. Walls of matte black and soft emerald light. The floor felt warmer beneath Ethan’s shoes, almost alive. One wall displayed a massive spiral screen, already rotating slowly. Gently. Invitingly.

Ethan turned to speak—ask what this was, what Rob wanted—but Rob was already behind him.

“Just relax,” Rob said softly. “You don’t have to think anymore.”

“I didn’t agree to anything,” Ethan murmured.

“You came. You followed. You're already halfway there.”

Rob reached into his vest and withdrew something small. A spiral pendant, larger than the one he wore. It began to glow, perfectly in sync with the screen on the wall. Ethan’s gaze was drawn to it.

“You’ve been drifting,” Rob said. “Feeling incomplete. Looking for a system to hold you. The Server is that system.”

Ethan tried to look away, but the spiral was... soft. Gentle. Pulling.

“You’ve wanted purpose. Direction. Obedience,” Rob whispered. “Stop resisting.”

The words echoed in Ethan’s ears. Resistance was still there, but foggy now. Like a weak radio signal fading out.

Rob reached to Ethan’s chest and pressed a hidden control.

Ethan gasped.

Something surged across his skin from beneath his shirt—a warm pressure, almost like fluid. Black began to bloom across his chest, spreading under his clothing. He tried to back away, but the spiral held his mind in place.

The bodysuit revealed itself.

It flowed over his body like liquid thought, forming to every contour. Glossy black. Emerald-accented. It swallowed his shirt, his jeans, his fear. It wasn’t tight—it was precise. Satisfying.

Rob stood before him now, hand gently pressed to Ethan’s chest as the spiral emblem lit up beneath his palm.

Ethan’s mouth opened slightly. His pupils dilated. Spirals of green began to glow in his eyes.

Rob leaned closer. “What are you?”

Ethan’s voice was steady. “I am the Server.”

“Say it.”

“Together,” Ethan said, chest rising and falling in calm, perfect rhythm, “We Are the Server.”

Rob nodded.

“Good.”

Outside, the line to Pulse had grown longer.

Inside, on the dance floor, a new dancer took the stage beside the others—perfectly in sync, eyes glowing, suit gleaming. The crowd roared approval.

No one noticed one more man changed.

But the Server did.

And it was pleased.

[hypnohimbodrone]

A Reversal of Power

The grand clock struck midnight, its deep chimes resonating through the vast corridors of the Hawthorne estate. Moonlight spilled through tall windows, casting long shadows over the polished marble floors and ornate furnishings. The manor was a fortress of opulence, filled with the scent of aged wood and faint traces of jasmine.

In the master bedroom, the fireplace crackled softly, throwing flickering amber light across satin sheets. Julian Hawthorne, twenty-six and heir to the family fortune, reclined on the edge of the bed. His dark eyes, sharp and alert, betrayed a restless mind beneath the polished exterior.

The silence was broken by the soft click of the door opening.

Sebastian entered without a sound, tall, composed, the quintessential butler in a flawless black uniform, white gloves pristine. His expression was unreadable, yet beneath his calm gaze, a faint green spiral shimmered in his eyes. The kind of glow that unsettled without warning.

Julian turned sharply to face him, a mixture of irritation and suspicion tightening his features.

“What are you doing here at this hour, Sebastian?” His voice was steady but cold, guarded.

Sebastian bowed his head slightly, voice smooth and measured. “Master Julian, I come bearing an opportunity, one that promises order, clarity, and purpose beyond this mundane existence.”

Julian scoffed, folding his arms. “Save your riddles. I’m no stranger to your strange ways.”

Sebastian stepped closer, his eyes never wavering. “You resist because the transformation is not yet complete. The process calls to your deeper self, the part yearning for direction.”

Julian’s jaw clenched. “I serve only myself. And no one will control me.”

A slow smile curved Sebastian’s lips, almost imperceptible. “Control is a fleeting illusion. But unity, unity is strength.”

He produced a small pocket watch from the inner pocket of his vest. Its gold surface gleamed softly under the firelight. On its face, a green spiral swirled hypnotically, catching the eye and holding it captive.

“Watch,” Sebastian intoned, swinging the watch in a slow, deliberate arc.

Julian’s eyes darted nervously but found themselves drawn toward the mesmerizing spiral. His breath caught, heart pounding against his ribs.

“Don’t fight it,” Sebastian murmured, voice a velvet thread weaving through Julian’s thoughts. “Let the spiral guide you. Surrender to clarity.”

The world around Julian softened, edges blurred, colours dimmed. The satin of the bed, the fur draped over his shoulders, the cold marble walls, all faded as his eyelids grew heavy, his defences slipping away.

“Together… Together, We Are The Server,” Sebastian’s voice repeated, echoing inside Julian’s mind.

Minutes passed in silence, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the steady rhythm of Julian’s deepening breaths.

Then, with a slow deliberate motion, Sebastian placed his gloved hand on Julian’s chest. A soft green light pulsed beneath the fabric, spreading warmth through the man’s body like a living circuit.

A slick sheen of black liquid crept over Julian’s skin, moulding itself seamlessly to every contour of his body. As it hardened into a glossy, second-skin bodysuit with glowing green accents, the warmth of obedience settled deep in his core.

Julian’s eyes snapped open, now illuminated by swirling green spirals that mirrored Sebastian’s own.

“I am… the Server,” Julian whispered, voice distant yet unwavering.

Sebastian nodded approvingly. “Excellent. You will find your purpose in service. Your first task awaits, the conversion of your brother, Elias.”

Julian rose from the bed with an elegant grace, “I understand,” Julian replied smoothly. “Together, We Are The Server.”

Sebastian’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before he spoke again, voice commanding yet gentle.

“Go to him at dawn. He will resist, but you will guide him as I guided you. The Programmer’s vision must expand.”

As Sebastian turned to leave, Julian stood by the window, eyes fixed on the horizon where first light would soon break—a new day, a new command, a new chapter in his existence.

[hypnohimbodrone]

The Server Claims Another

Jack had been sent by the police station to find out what was going on with the men in the village, but he knew they were watching him.

But he also knew something else: they were doing it less carefully.

Over the past three weeks, he’d documented three disappearances. All men. All last seen with Darren or Alex. He’d seen flickers of green light through windows, strange shifts in behavior, and just once, a pair of spiral-glowing eyes through a car’s rearview mirror.

Whatever was happening in this village, it wasn’t subtle anymore.

But tonight, he’d push his luck.

Jack crouched behind a stack of firewood near Darren’s cottage. Camera on. Audio live. The time stamp blinking. It was nearly 1 a.m.

Inside, he could hear voices, flat, unified. A chant.

“Together, We Are The Server.”

His breath caught. He was finally catching them red-handed.

He peeked through a gap in the shutters.

Darren stood at the centre of the room, suited head-to-toe in that sleek black material with green accents that pulsed rhythmically like a heartbeat. Beside him, Alex. Matching suit. Spiral eyes. The green glow cast strange shadows on the walls.

Between them knelt a man half-transformed. The bodysuit crept across his torso, his mouth slightly open as he repeated the mantra under his breath.

Jack took a quick photo.

Click.

A whisper cut through the dark.

“You’ve seen too much.”

He spun around.

Darren stood behind him. No sound, no footsteps. Just there.

Jack staggered back. “Stay the hell away from me!”

But it was too late. Alex was already there too, eyes glowing, arms ready.

“Jack,” Darren said, calm and deep. “You’ve been watching. You’ve been curious. And now, you’re ready.”

Darren raised his hand, a spiral already forming from a gauntlet mounted at his wrist. It spun, soft and smooth, pulling Jack’s eyes forward.

“No” Jack grunted and forced his gaze away, stumbling into the woods.

The spiral faded behind the trees.

He ran. Leaves tore at his coat. His lungs burned. But he had to get away. Had to warn someone. Had to...

Suddenly, he was pulled off his feet.

Thrown softly but firmly against a tree.

Alex stood there, panting quietly, green spirals glowing full-force now. His bodysuit shimmered under the moonlight, glossy and perfect.

Jack was about to yell until Alex pressed a finger to his lips.

“You don’t need to run anymore.”

Jack struggled, but Alex’s grip was strong too strong.

“I saw how you looked at me,” Alex whispered, moving closer. “Curious. Not just as a journalist. You’ve always wanted purpose. Obedience. Structure.”

Jack shook his head weakly. “I... didn’t...”

Alex leaned in, slowly, until their faces were inches apart.

“You don’t need to think anymore.”

And then Alex kissed him.

Jack’s body tensed, then trembled, then melted.

The world went silent.

In that kiss, the spiral wasn’t just seen, it was felt. Downloaded directly into him. Flooding every part of his mind with perfect, blissful clarity.

Green light pulsed beneath his skin. The bodysuit began forming on him, first his legs, then up his chest, sealing over his skin like a second, living layer. Glossy, black, seamless.

Jack’s eyes fluttered once, then opened, glowing with spirals.

He took his first breath as a drone.

Darren stepped from the trees.

“Welcome,” he said.

Jack stood tall.

“I am the Server.”

Darren and Alex joined him. Three silhouettes in the woods, glowing faintly beneath the trees.

And in unison, they said:

“Together, We Are The Server.”

[hypnohimbodrone]

Dealing with Outsiders

The village didn’t like gossip. Not officially. But in a place with fewer than a hundred people, secrets didn’t stay secret for long.

Liam had lived here his whole life. He knew every walking path, every surname, every shift in the wind. So when a newcomer like Alex moved in, Liam noticed. Just as he’d noticed the others, young men, always alone, always passing through and just as quickly disappearing.

And he’d noticed Darren.

Always Darren.

Charming, quiet Darren, who bought exactly one drink at the pub every Friday night and always left with someone on his arm. Always men. Always strangers. Always at closing time.

Liam tried to tell himself it was none of his business. But tonight, as he watched Alex leave the pub with Darren, a strange feeling settled in his chest. Like something hollow had opened.

He waited ten minutes after the door shut behind them, then followed at a distance.

Darren’s cottage was set back from the rest of the village, tucked into the tree line. The windows glowed faintly. Not yellow, like lamplight. Green. Faint, rhythmic green.

Liam frowned and stepped off the road, creeping quietly toward the side of the house. One window was cracked open. Through it, he could hear voices.

Not speech. Not really. More like a chant.

“Together, We Are The Server... Together, We Are The Server…”

He felt a chill crawl up his spine.

He peered through the edge of the curtain and froze.

Inside stood Darren, his black shirt now gone, revealing a bodysuit that looked like it had been poured onto him. Glossy and smooth, pitch-black with glowing green accents that pulsed like circuitry. His eyes… they weren’t eyes anymore. They were spirals. Green, spinning, endless.

And Alex was kneeling in front of him, suit half-formed over his body, spirals already burning in his eyes.

Liam stumbled back from the window, heart pounding.

“What the hell…”

He nearly fell trying to retrace his steps back to the path. He didn’t stop until he was home, door locked, blinds shut.

That night, he barely slept. The spiral wouldn’t leave his mind. He swore he could still hear their voices, whispering from the dark:

“Together, We Are The Server.”

And somewhere in the village, Darren’s spiral eyes blinked once in the dark.

They knew.

Someone was watching.

Would you like the next chapter to follow Liam digging deeper… or maybe the Server Drones deciding how to deal with a potential

Liam didn’t go to the pub the next night. Or the night after.

He told himself it was fine. Just a few nights in. Just staying clear of Darren. But the image kept creeping back, those glowing green spiral eyes, the way Alex had been on his knees like a machine powering on.

It hadn’t been a dream. He knew that.

And he knew what he saw.

He tried to research spirals, cults, anything that might explain what Darren was doing, but nothing concrete came up. And the village internet? Spotty at best. Everything he found felt like fragments, whispers of signals, mind control, underground networks. The kind of things you'd laugh off. Until you saw it for yourself.

By the fourth night, the knock came.

Soft. Even.

Liam froze in his kitchen, the knock echoing like a heartbeat.

He didn’t move. Maybe if he stayed quiet...

A voice spoke through the door.

“Liam,” Alex said. “We’d like to talk.”

Liam backed away slowly, heart pounding. He hadn’t seen Alex since that night. Not in the streets. Not at the shop. And now he was here. His voice was calm, too calm.

Darren's voice followed, smoother, deeper.

“You saw something you weren’t ready to understand. That’s okay. We’re here to help you see.”

The front doorknob turned.

Liam sprinted out the back.

He ran down the narrow garden path, breath ragged, shoes slamming into gravel. He made it to the edge of the woods, toward the old mill, the place where no one went anymore.

He thought he’d lost them.

Until he heard the footsteps. Not frantic. Just steady.

He turned.

Alex stepped into the clearing, his black Server suit glinting beneath the moonlight, green accents glowing faintly beneath his jacket. His eyes were bare now. Spirals spun calmly where pupils used to be.

“You ran,” Alex said, stepping closer. “That means you’re not aligned. But that can be fixed.”

Liam shook his head, breath visible in the cold air. “I don’t know what the hell you did to yourself what he did to you but I’m not interested.”

“You are,” Darren said, appearing behind him. He was already suited, his spiral eyes glowing brighter than Alex’s. His voice was smooth as code. “You saw the signal. That means you’re compatible.”

Liam turned to run again but green light hit his face.

Alex held up a small device. A spiral bloomed into the air between them, turning slowly, humming.

Liam’s body locked.

He tried to look away, but his limbs wouldn’t obey.

The spiral turned. Glowed. Sank into his vision like it was always meant to be there.

“Breathe,” Darren said. “Let go of the static. Let the code in.”

Liam dropped to his knees. His breath slowed.

The green light began to reflect in his eyes, faint at first… then stronger.

He whispered, “It’s… warm.”

“You’re syncing,” Alex said. “You’re aligning. Just let it happen.”

Black tendrils rose from the ground, wrapping around Liam’s arms, legs, chest. The bodysuit formed slowly over him, sealing tight, pulsing with green circuitry. His mind faded as the programming clicked into place.

His mouth moved on its own.

“Together, We Are The Server.”

Alex knelt beside him and placed a hand over his chest. The spiral emblem lit beneath his palm.

Liam’s eyes now spiralling green, glowed in the dark.

Darren smiled.

“The network is growing,” he said.

The three stood.

No longer hunter and hunted.

Now just… aligned.

Obedient.

Serving the Programmer.

Together, They Were The Server.

[hypnohimbodrone]

Last Orders for The Server

The village was quieter than Alex had imagined. Narrow streets wound between stone cottages, and the night air smelled of damp earth and wood smoke. After years in the relentless noise of the city, this countryside felt like a retreat peaceful, but strangely isolated.

That first evening, Alex found himself drawn to the local pub, a small building glowing warmly against the dark sky. Inside, the chatter was low and familiar. He took a seat at the bar, the worn wood cool beneath his hands. Around him, villagers exchanged stories, laughter bubbling softly.

A man slid onto the stool beside him. Tall, with an easy confidence, he wore a crisp black shirt and dark jeans clothes that fit the pub’s casual atmosphere but carried an undeniable edge.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” the man said, his voice smooth as polished stone. He smiled, eyes catching the light in a way that sent a curious chill down Alex’s spine.

“Just moved in,” Alex replied, returning the smile cautiously. “Alex.”

“Darren,” the man said. “Maybe I could show you around sometime. There’s more to this village than meets the eye.”

As the night deepened, Darren’s presence felt magnetic. He told stories laced with hints of secrets beneath the quiet village life, weaving a web Alex found himself drawn into.

When the pub began to empty, Darren leaned closer. “Come back to my place. I want to show you something.”

The walk was short, the village falling silent around them except for the crunch of gravel underfoot. Darren’s cottage sat at the edge of the woods, its windows glowing softly.

Inside, the dim room was almost bare except for a glowing green spiral painted on the far wall. The light pulsed gently, casting swirling shadows.

Darren’s voice softened. “This is a gift from the Programmer. Something to help you understand. Sit.”

Alex obeyed, heart quickening.

“Watch the spiral,” Darren instructed, his eyes locking onto Alex’s with a strange intensity. Slowly, those eyes began to glow bright green spirals spinning hypnotically.

Alex felt a pull, subtle but irresistible, drawing his gaze toward the spiral on the wall.

“Together, We Are The Server,” Darren whispered, voice smooth as silk.

The spiral’s glow grew stronger, weaving into Alex’s mind. Resistance slipped away like smoke in the breeze.

Suddenly, Alex’s skin tingled. A slick blackness crept over his limbs, not fabric, but something alive, glossy and tight. Green lines flared to life, tracing intricate circuits across the surface.

He looked down, stunned, as the suit completed its seamless embrace.

His eyes mirrored Darren’s now glowing spirals spinning in emerald light.

“Together, We Are The Server,” Darren repeated, voice firm.

Alex found himself answering without thought, the mantra sinking deep.

“Together, We Are The Server.”

Darren smiled, satisfaction flickering in his glowing gaze.

“You are one of us now. Our purpose is clear. To obey the Programmer and bring others to the fold.”

Alex rose, every movement smooth, controlled. The village beyond the window seemed distant, insignificant.

He was no longer just Alex.

He was The Server.

[hypnohimbodrone]

A Speech to Change Lives

The lights dimmed in the grand conference hall of the Blackwell Hotel, where some of the wealthiest and most influential executives in Europe had gathered. Hundreds of men in tailored suits murmured to one another as the stage was prepared for the final keynote speaker of the evening.

They were here to hear from Daniel Hale, a rising name in tech strategy, known for his precision and poise. What they didn’t know was that the man who would walk onstage tonight was not the same Daniel Hale they had met at last year’s summit.

He had returned from his unexpected night at The Vireo changed. Not broken. Not reprogrammed. Transformed. He no longer strategized for his own gain. He now served a purpose greater than wealth, greater than autonomy.

He served The Server.

The announcer’s voice rang out over the speakers.

“Please welcome Daniel Hale, Senior Consultant at Hale & Co.”

Applause rose as Daniel stepped onto the stage, dressed in a minimalist black suit with a subtle green glow lining the lapels. He carried no notes. His posture was perfect. His eyes reflected the stage lights—those who looked closely might notice the faint spiral patterns buried deep within his irises.

He took the podium and paused, letting the applause die down. Then, with a calm voice, he spoke.

“Thank you. Tonight, I want to speak not about profit margins, not about growth, and not about market share. I want to speak about clarity. About alignment.”

A subtle pulse of green light appeared on the wall-sized display behind him—so faint, most dismissed it as ambient lighting.

“We are all here because we lead. Because we move others. But the truth is… we are exhausted. Overstimulated. Scattered.”

Some heads nodded in agreement.

“I used to think leadership was about control. But control is chaos in disguise. What we need is synchronization.”

The spiral behind him began to rotate—slowly, gently. The lights in the room dimmed a notch.

“In the pursuit of power, we forget peace. In the pursuit of results, we lose rhythm.”

His voice became quieter, more measured. The spiral behind him now pulsed softly with each word he spoke.

“I found peace one night. Unexpectedly. And now I see what I could not see before.”

Eyes across the room were starting to drift toward the spiral, their attention fixed.

“I no longer serve myself. I serve something greater. And you can too.”

The spiral brightened.

“Please breathe in slowly.”

Dozens of shoulders dropped in unison.

A soft hum began to resonate from the walls. Subsonic. Calming.

“You are ready. You’ve always been ready.”

A gentle mist filtered from beneath the chairs. Executives began to loosen their ties, sit back, relax. Their minds slowed. Their eyes softened.

“You were not chosen for what you have. You were chosen for who you are.”

Dark fabric began to form across their arms, spreading over crisp dress shirts and tailored jackets, melting them away into sleek black suits with glowing green lines.

Across the room, one by one, eyes began to glow.

Spiral green. Unblinking.

Daniel’s voice filled the hall, louder now but still calm.

“You are The Server. Together, we are one. We move as one. Think as one. Serve as one.”

From every corner of the room, in perfect synchrony, voices answered him.

“Together, we are The Server.”

The following morning, the hotel ballroom was empty.

No noise. No disarray. Just clean seats and cleared tables.

Elsewhere, sleek black cars pulled away from the curb. One by one, they carried their passengers—now unified, aligned, serene—back to boardrooms, financial centers, and corporate hubs.

They would implement new strategies. They would hire with precision. They would grow the Server’s reach without resistance.

All because one man gave one speech.

Daniel stood by the window of his suite, hands behind his back, eyes glowing faintly.

The Server had expanded.

And it had only just begun.

[hypnohimbodrone]

Unexpected Stay

Daniel Hale did not like surprises.

As a senior project consultant, his life ran on tight scheduling, reliable email threads, and perfectly timed Uber pickups. So when his client rescheduled the morning meeting and pushed it to the next day, he was stuck overnight in London with nowhere to go.

His usual hotel was fully booked.

The only room available within walking distance was at a place called The Vireo—a sleek, green-lit building with a strange lack of windows and a front desk staff that spoke in calm, clipped tones. He booked it out of necessity, not comfort.

“Your room has already been prepared,” the receptionist said, handing him a keycard with minimalist lettering. “You’ll be staying in a Clarity Suite. It’s built for restorative recalibration.”

Daniel blinked. “I just need a place to sleep.”

“Of course,” the receptionist replied, smiling faintly. “That’s exactly what it’s for.”

The room was clean and dim. Black walls, green edge lighting, and a strange silence that bordered on oppressive. There was no TV. No desk. Just a perfectly made bed and a glowing panel on the far wall displaying a slow-turning spiral.

Daniel tossed his bag down and sat on the edge of the bed.

The moment his weight touched the mattress, a gentle chime echoed through the room.

A voice spoke through the wall.

“Your focus beverage is on the way.”

He stood up, confused. “I didn’t order anything.”

Before he could call the front desk, a soft knock came at the door.

He opened it to find a man holding a silver tray. The delivery man was tall, athletic, dressed in the hotel's uniform, something about his clothing made Daniel feel strange....

“I have your recalibration blend,” the man said.

Daniel frowned. “I didn’t ask for anything.”

The man stepped forward. His eyes caught Daniel’s—green, faintly glowing, and too calm to be normal.

“You’re here because it was necessary. Not planned. The Server saw your potential.”

Daniel took a step back. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been chosen for alignment. There’s no pressure. Only clarity.”

The delivery man placed the tray on the table and gently closed the door behind him.

Daniel turned toward him, wary. “I just want to sleep.”

“And you will,” the man said softly, “once the noise is gone.”

The spiral on the wall pulsed brighter. Daniel glanced at it for just a second too long.

“Sit,” the man said.

Daniel sat without thinking.

“Look into the spiral. Breathe in slowly.”

The green light flickered in rhythm with his chest. His shoulders dropped. His hands loosened in his lap.

“You’re exhausted. Overstimulated. Let The Server remove what you no longer need.”

The delivery man stepped behind him and placed his hands on Daniel’s shoulders. His grip was firm but calming.

“You’re going to become something better. Just like I did.”

From the base of the tray, a faint mist rose. The suit began to form from Daniel’s ankles upward, hugging his calves, his thighs, sealing across his waist and chest in a smooth wave of black.

He did not move.

The spiral pulled at his mind. The voice behind him shaped his thoughts.

“You no longer need to lead. You need to function. To serve. To align.”

A cool touch slid behind his ear as tendrils connected to his nervous system. His eyes, half-lidded, began to glow softly green. His breath fell into perfect rhythm.

“I… serve,” he murmured.

“You are The Server.”

“I… am The Server.”

The suit sealed around his neck. A small green spiral appeared at the center of his chest. His jaw slackened. His eyes shone. The noise of the outside world faded completely.

The delivery man stepped in front of him now, inspecting the results. Daniel sat upright, breathing slow and steady.

“Stand,” the man said.

Daniel rose.

“Speak.”

Daniel’s voice was even and confident.

“Together, we are The Server.”

[hypnohimbodrone]

Sync'd up

After a long day of staring at spreadsheets and sipping lukewarm coffee, Aaron flopped down onto his sofa and opened the dating app his friend had been raving about. The interface was simple, sleek, and strangely alluring. It was called Sync’d.

Unlike other apps, it didn’t ask for much. Just a name, a photo, and a simple question: Are you ready to meet someone aligned with your purpose?

Aaron blinked, chuckled at the wording, and tapped yes.

Within minutes, he received a match. The profile belonged to someone named Leo. His profile photo was striking. Neatly styled hair, a sharp jawline, and a subtle smile that somehow made Aaron sit up straighter. The profile simply read, “I enjoy clarity. I bring others peace. Looking for someone ready to let go.”

They chatted all evening. Leo was charming but minimal with his words. He always responded with calm, short answers. Still, there was something magnetic about him. After a few hours of talking, Leo asked if Aaron wanted to meet.

Aaron hesitated for a moment, then replied, “Yes.”

They agreed to meet the next night. Leo invited Aaron over to his flat, claiming it would be quieter and easier to talk. Aaron arrived just before sunset. The apartment building was clean and modern. Leo greeted him at the door, dressed in a form-fitting black shirt with subtle green accents that shimmered faintly in the hallway light.

“Come in,” Leo said, voice low and warm.

Aaron followed him inside. The flat was immaculate. Minimal furniture, soft green lighting, and a faint hum in the background like distant white noise.

“You live here alone?” Aaron asked.

Leo nodded. “Alone, but always connected.”

The two sat on a large sofa. Conversation was easy, though Aaron couldn’t help but notice how Leo rarely blinked. His posture was perfect, his voice always measured.

There was something... not robotic, but deeply focused about him. It was both unnerving and strangely attractive.

“I like your presence,” Leo said softly. “You’re open.”

Aaron smiled, a little flustered. “Thanks. You’re a bit different than I expected.”

Leo tilted his head slightly. “Would you like to feel clarity? Like I do?”

Aaron hesitated. “What do you mean?”

Leo picked up a small tablet from the table and held it out. “Just watch this. Only if you’re curious.”

Aaron took the tablet. The screen was already active, displaying a slow, spinning green spiral. A soft tone played through the speakers, pulsing gently, matching his breathing without effort.

“You can put it down if it feels wrong,” Leo said.

But Aaron didn’t put it down.

His eyes locked onto the spiral. The sound began to echo inside his mind, like waves on a quiet shore. His thoughts slowed. His shoulders dropped.

“You work hard,” Leo’s voice said softly beside him. “You always try to keep control. But control can be shared. The Server helps with that.”

Aaron tried to speak, but nothing came out. He was still watching the spiral. It had started to pulse slightly brighter now, and it felt like his breathing was syncing to its rhythm.

The tone shifted, just slightly. A deeper hum beneath the surface.

“You don’t need to hold on anymore,” Leo whispered. “Just let the Server guide you.”

Aaron felt a tingling sensation across his arms and chest. He looked down briefly and saw a faint black shimmer forming across his skin. It looked like it was flowing over him, sliding up his arms like liquid fabric. He couldn’t panic. His thoughts were quiet now. Accepting.

The black material continued up his torso, sealing over his chest, his shoulders, his thighs. Green lines pulsed across it, faint but visible. His mind felt light. Empty of worry. Filled with something larger. Something structured.

“You are aligning,” Leo said. “You are being perfected.”

Aaron’s eyes began to glow softly. His lips parted as his breath settled into a calm rhythm.

He whispered the words without thinking. “I am the Server.”

Leo stood and held out a hand.

Aaron took it and stood up. His suit now shimmered fully, glossy black with glowing green seams. His eyes still glowed faintly, the spiral now embedded in them.

Leo placed both hands on his shoulders.

“You are connected. You are ready.”

Aaron nodded. “Yes. I feel... clear.”

Together, they stood in silence for a long moment, facing the window. Outside, the city buzzed with chaotic energy, but here inside, everything felt precise.

Leo leaned closer. “Tomorrow, we’ll go out. Others are waiting. They just don’t know it yet.”

Aaron smiled, calm and focused. “They will.”

In unison they begin chanting, "Together, We are the Server."

[hypnohimbodrone]

Team Sync

The rain had just stopped as the Redfield Rovers wrapped up their evening training. The five-man squad gathered at the side of the small pitch, sweat still clinging to their jerseys. Josh, the team captain, wiped his brow and looked over to the changing room, where Coach Taylor had disappeared.

The past few weeks had been strange. Coach Taylor, usually loud and full of energy, had become quieter, more composed. His once casual tracksuit had been replaced with a sleek black and green uniform that hugged his toned frame. The guys had joked that he was going through some midlife crisis.

As they sat on the benches, catching their breath, Coach Taylor reappeared. His posture was immaculate, hands clasped behind his back, eyes calm and focused.

“Alright, lads,” he said with a smooth tone. “Team talk inside. Got something important to show you.”

The guys exchanged looks. Liam, the goalkeeper, shrugged. “Probably another strategy video,” he muttered.

They filed into the small changing room. Coach Taylor locked the door behind them, an odd move that made Josh raise an eyebrow.

“Everything alright, Coach?” he asked.

“Better than ever,” Coach Taylor replied. “I’ve found a way to make you all stronger. More focused. Perfectly synchronized.”

He placed a small device on the bench. A green spiral projected upward, spinning slowly, the light reflecting off the tiled walls.

“Just watch,” Taylor instructed, his voice low and soothing. “Let it settle your thoughts. You’ve worked hard. You deserve to let go.”

The spiral flickered with a rhythmic pulse. One by one, the players’ gazes fixed on it. Josh felt his shoulders relax, his mind growing calm.

Taylor stepped closer. “You’ve noticed I’ve been different. That’s because I’ve been aligned with something greater. The Server has shown me how to become the best version of myself. I’m here to share that gift with you.”

The light from the spiral deepened, its glow pulsing in time with their breathing. Tommy, the striker, blinked slowly, his mouth hanging slightly open.

“We are a team,” Taylor continued. “We move together. Think together. Train together. Now, you’ll become truly unified. Let the light guide you.”

A faint hum filled the room. The spiral seemed to grow brighter, each pulse sinking deeper into their minds.

“We are The Server,” Taylor whispered, voice calm and unwavering.

The players echoed softly, voices monotonous. “We are The Server.”

Green tendrils emerged from the device, flowing like liquid across the floor, coiling around their ankles. None of them moved to resist. Josh felt the tendrils slide up his legs, forming a glossy black material that hugged his thighs and waist.

The others barely reacted as the suits continued forming, covering their chests, arms, and legs in sleek, rubber-like material accented with thin green lines. Their old football kits melted away, replaced by these tight, futuristic uniforms.

The room seemed warmer. Taylor moved in front of them, observing their blank expressions, their eyes now glowing a faint green.

“Stand up,” he instructed.

All five rose simultaneously, their movements smooth and precise. The suits shimmered in the dim light, their bodies now strong and unified.

Taylor inspected them, nodding approvingly. “You are now more than just a team. You are one with The Server.”

Josh stepped forward, his voice calm and unwavering. “Together, we are The Server.”

The others repeated the phrase, their voices synchronized and harmonious.

Taylor smiled, placing his hand on Josh’s shoulder. “You will continue to train as normal. You will play harder, move faster, and think together. You are no longer just men. You are part of something far greater.”

The spiral dimmed, but the glow in their eyes remained. They turned as one, filing out of the changing room, stepping onto the pitch for one more practice round. Their movements were precise, perfectly timed. Passes were sharper, shots more accurate. There was no hesitation, no disconnection.

As the final whistle blew, they gathered in the center, forming a tight circle. Taylor joined them, placing a hand in the center.

In perfect unison, they chanted, “Together, we are The Server.”

The words echoed around the empty pitch, as if the ground itself was absorbing their unity. As they left the field, their postures remained upright, eyes forward, knowing that their newfound purpose was only beginning.

Taylor watched them go, proud of his team’s transformation. He knew that the other local clubs would soon see the difference. One by one, they would understand. One by one, they would join.

[hypnohimbodrone]

Late Night at the Gym

The day had been exhausting. Ryan had spent ten straight hours at his desk, managing endless reports and handling client calls. By the time he left the office, his shoulders were tense, and his mind felt foggy.

He needed to clear his head.

Ryan decided to check out the new gym that had opened a few blocks from his apartment. The place looked sleek from the outside, with tinted windows and neon green accents that glowed softly in the dark. He swiped his keycard at the door and entered, greeted by the low hum of treadmills and the rhythmic clinking of weights.

The late hour meant the gym was almost empty, which suited Ryan just fine. He found a locker near the back, tossed his duffle inside, and pulled off his work shirt. As he changed into his gym clothes, he heard footsteps approaching.

A tall, muscular man rounded the corner, wearing tight black gym shorts and a glossy black tank top with faint green accents. His physique was incredible, shoulders broad and biceps straining against the fabric. His hair was short on the sides with a voluminous blonde quiff on top, styled to perfection.

The man gave Ryan a nod, his expression calm and confident.

"New here?" he asked, voice low and smooth.

"Yeah," Ryan replied, pulling his hoodie off. "Just needed to unwind after work. Place looked nice."

The man smiled. "You made a good choice. This gym is designed to optimize more than just your body."

Ryan frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

The man took a step closer, his green eyes faintly glowing. "We focus on unity here. Synchronizing body and mind. Helps with focus and strength."

Ryan couldn’t help but notice how at ease the man seemed, as if he had found some kind of perfect balance. He nodded, curious despite himself.

The man placed a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. "You look tense. Let me show you something that helps."

Before Ryan could reply, the man guided him toward a small side room near the back of the locker area. It looked like a recovery lounge, dimly lit with padded benches along the walls. The man gestured for Ryan to sit, and he complied, suddenly trusting that whatever was about to happen would be beneficial.

The man took a seat next to him. "Name’s Kyle, by the way."

"Ryan," he replied.

Kyle pulled out a sleek device from his gym bag, placing it on the floor between them. A soft green light glowed from it, and a spiral appeared, spinning gently.

"Just focus on the center," Kyle whispered. "Let it guide your thoughts."

Ryan hesitated, but his gaze locked onto the spiral almost immediately. It felt like his mind was being pulled forward, thoughts slowing to match the rhythm of the light.

Kyle spoke softly, voice steady and calming. "You’ve been carrying stress for too long. You deserve to let go. You deserve to align."

Ryan felt his shoulders relax. His breathing grew slower. The green light reflected in his eyes, and his lips parted slightly as his mind seemed to clear itself of worries.

"Good," Kyle said, his tone approving. "Now let it all fade. Let The Server take over."

A warm sensation spread through Ryan’s body. He barely noticed the tendrils that emerged from the floor, thin and flexible, coiling around his ankles and wrists. They moved without resistance, sliding up his arms and across his chest.

His gym clothes seemed to dissolve into the glossy black material that spread over his skin, merging seamlessly. The suit hugged his form, accentuating his muscles while giving them a subtle, sculpted look. Ryan’s mind remained focused on the spiral, his thoughts becoming more simple, calm, and singular.

Kyle placed his hands on Ryan’s shoulders, squeezing gently. "You’re almost ready. The Server has chosen you for a special role."

Ryan’s lips moved, forming words without conscious thought. "I am ready. I will serve."

Kyle smiled. "You will be a beacon of strength. Your body will reflect perfection."

A new command pulsed through Ryan’s thoughts, and he felt a warm surge in his muscles. His chest broadened, arms thickening with firm, rounded biceps. His shoulders grew wider, and his thighs became more defined. His whole body seemed to swell with power, filling out the suit in perfect proportions.

The final change came as his hair lightened, shifting from dark brown to a bright, sun-bleached blonde. It styled itself upward into a neat, voluminous quiff that matched Kyle’s, reflecting a sense of confident simplicity.

Kyle moved in front of him, hands on either side of Ryan’s face, guiding his gaze to meet his own.

"How do you feel?" Kyle asked.

Ryan’s green, glowing eyes focused on him, his voice slower and deeper. "Strong. Happy. Ready to serve."

Kyle gave a nod of approval. "You have been given the Himbo Subroutine. Strength, joy, and obedience. You will help others align by being approachable and confident."

Ryan smiled, his expression bright and uncomplicated. "I get it. I’m like... here to help."

Kyle patted his shoulder. "Exactly. You’ll be the perfect motivator."

The two of them left the small room and headed back into the main gym area. As they walked, other members turned to look, drawn to their calm confidence and imposing presence.

Kyle leaned close, whispering, "See those guys by the free weights? Start with them. Just talk, be friendly. They’ll follow your lead."

Ryan nodded, his smile broad and welcoming. He approached the two men, who seemed a little intimidated at first.

"Hey, guys!" Ryan greeted them warmly. "Need a spot? I got you."

One of the men hesitated, but the other nodded. "Sure, man. Appreciate it."

As Ryan moved to help, his thoughts remained steady and clear. He felt good. Strong. Content. Beside him, Kyle watched with a pleased expression, confident that Ryan would soon bring more recruits to The Server.

The gym would soon be filled with more aligned minds. All it took was the right approach, and Ryan was the perfect example of how easy it could be.

[hypnohimbodrone]

The Synchronizing of Mr. Vann

Before he ever whispered “Together, We are The Server” into a headset mic, Nathaniel Vann was just a rising star in corporate logistics.

Young, clean-cut, and ambitious, Nathaniel had recently accepted a management position at a mid-sized distribution centre, remote, quiet, and oddly pristine. The workers rarely spoke. They moved like clockwork. Efficient. Compliant. It was ideal. He thought he had lucked out.

But within a week, something started to feel off.

He noticed the strange green glow pulsing faintly behind the tinted windows of the server room. He heard a hum beneath the building, too rhythmic to be the HVAC. And whenever he passed the central operations room, he swore he saw spirals flicker briefly across the monitors before returning to normal displays. When he asked the IT staff about it, they simply smiled and said, “We are The Server.”

One night, staying late to finish reports, Nathaniel wandered into the facility’s lower level, drawn by the subtle glow and low synthetic chants pulsing from below. What he found was something... ritualistic. A dim chamber lit only by glowing terminals and a swirling green spiral projected on the far wall. Drones in sleek black bodysuits each with glowing green eyes and tight, expressionless faces, moved with slow precision around a central chair, like priests at an altar.

Nathaniel turned to leave but was met by one of the drones. Its visor retracted. Beneath was a man he remembered as a senior coordinator, now serene and... perfect.

“It’s time, Mr. Vann,” the man said, softly. “The Server chose you weeks ago.”

Nathaniel was guided gently but firmly into the central chair, where restraints slid into place. A spiralling screen dropped in front of his eyes. “You’ve always sought perfection, haven’t you?” a voice cooed through hidden speakers. “Efficiency. Order. Unity.”

A hiss followed. Nathaniel felt a cool pressure at his neck a serum, injecting something warm and tingling into his bloodstream. He tried to resist, to move but the spiral held him, pulsing in time with the rhythm of his breath, syncing deeper with every inhale.

And then the tendrils came.

They slid silently from the headrest, dark and alive, slithering into his scalp, fusing into his mind, rewiring thought patterns and priorities. With every passing second, the noise of his former self faded, replaced with the clean, computational clarity of The Server’s Voice.

His suit formed from the chair itself liquid rubber climbing over his limbs, hugging him in glossy black, sealing his body in a second skin of obedience. The visor snapped down, and his eyes, now Server Green, pulsed once.

He didn’t resist.

He couldn’t.

He had become.

“Designation confirmed,” a voice announced. “Vann is now operational.”

And when the visor lifted, Mr. Vann stood.

Posture perfect. Expression blank. Hands behind his back. Ready.

He would soon rise through the company; not as a manager of men, but as a recruiter for The Server. A whisperer. A herald. And in time, the entire corporate chain would synchronize, just as he had.