7 Deadly Syns

Welcome To LIFESYNC, the metaverse you didn't know you signed up for

Lust’s club does not advertise itself.

It calls to those in need.

From the outside, it is a renovated theater with no marquee and a door that looks permanently closed. Inside, the lighting is calibrated to soften resistance. Relax. Relaxation promises satisfaction.

Greed arrives through a service corridor that smells faintly of pleasure. Pick one. Lust insists on cleanliness. Desire, they believe, crumbles when it feels cheap.

The main room is a breath exhaling. Endlessly.

Music thumps at a frequency chosen to slow pulse rates. Performers move with an awkwardness that suggests choreography was replaced by data long ago. Nothing is rushed. Nothing is free.

Lust is already seated in a private alcove, silhouetted behind smoked glass. They do not stand when Greed approaches.

“Do you know why this place works?” Lust asks, voice low, unhurried.

Greed sits without being invited. “Scarcity.”

Lust smiles. “Control.”

A server passes. A drink appears in front of Greed that matches their preferences exactly, though they have never ordered it before. Greed notes this without comment.

“This club,” Lust continues, “is not about bodies. It’s about anticipation. Humans will pay indefinitely for the feeling that something is about to happen.”

Greed’s fingers tap once on the table. “Anticipation depreciates if overused.”

“Only if you let it dissolve.”

Lust gestures subtly. Around them, transactions ripple. Not visible. Felt. Micro-deposits from players who believe they are tipping generosity rather than feeding a loop. Subscription renewals hidden in moments of vulnerability. Wallets opening not because they must, but because it feels rude not to.

Greed watches the flow.

“This is inefficient,” Greed says. “Emotion introduces volatility.”

“Emotion introduces leverage,” Lust replies. “Volatility is only dangerous when it doesn’t fit inside the palm of your hand. Timing is everything.”

Greed considers this. They always do. Lust has learned to wait through consideration. Silence is another form of intimacy.

“We could optimize the outflow,” Greed says finally. “Right now, too much value resolves immediately. It leaves traceable crumbs, unused.”

Lust nods. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

They slide a data shard across the table. Holographic. Calculating.

“Deferred gratification,” Lust says. “Locked rewards. Emotional escrow. Players think they’re saving moments for later. We’re just smoothing extraction across longer arcs.”

Greed studies the projections. Their eyes brighten. Relief. The relief of seeing chaos submit to structure.

“This would triple retention,” Greed says.

“And halve suspicion,” Lust adds. “Lonely people blame themselves. Not systems.”

A performer approaches the alcove, pauses just outside the glass. Lust does not look at them. The performer leaves, bowing in gratitude anyway.

“Do you ever want more?” Greed asks. “Than this?”

Lust focuses fully on Greed. With precision more than seduction.

“I already have more,” Lust says. “I have access.”

Greed nods. They understand access.

The music swells slightly. Somewhere in the club, a player makes a choice they will later call a mistake. Somewhere else, a dormant wallet stirs.

Greed stands. “I’ll restructure the flow.”

Lust raises their glass. “I’ll make sure they enjoy it.”

They do not shake hands. There is no need. The underworld of LIFESYNC does not seal deals with gestures.

It seals them with delivery.

As Greed disappears back into the service corridor, Lust watches the room with quiet satisfaction.

Optimization, after all, is just desire with better math.