LeafLink (ONC 2024) (Complete)

Chapter 4

It doesn't take long for me to put away the few possessions I'd brought. By the time I'm done, it is only early evening and I'm bored. BioLink had removed every trace of previous occupancy - the bookshelves, cabinets, drawers were all empty. There isn't even a television, but the odds of broadcast waves making it into town were slim anyway. With nothing else to do, I read the pamphlet the driver has given me.

Most of it is pretty dry; there's a map of the town, with directions to the nearest grocery store and other necessities. It also includes restaurants, stores, and of course the BioLink facility, which sits on the page like a great, white inkblot. I am confused for a moment - can't I just look all this up? - and then I remember that in fact, I couldn't. Not until I've accessed LeafLink.

While the pamphlet doesn't explain how it works, it does include directions for maintaining the LinkPort, just in case I ever forget the complex procedure of opening a box and pouring water in.

The only thing that captured my attention was a printed itinerary of my schedule for tomorrow. I was to report to the facility for morning orientation and then devote the rest of the day towards 'construct training.'

You know, typical stuff.

Apparently I'd been one of the last additions to the creative team; unlike Briget and I, most of the members had been recruited earlier and given more than a single night to settle into things. Fine by me though - I was just grateful to be here.

It doesn't take me long to finish, and I toss the paper down on the cushions beside me. I glance around at the bare walls, the simple furniture. It dawns on me that this isn't some business trip - this is my new home, as stipulated. This was going to be a place I would grow into, whether I liked it or not.

Some new decor would definitely help make this place feel like home, but that would have to wait for a later day. For now, I decide, stocking the kitchen should be my next step. Having food in the cottage would go a long way of making me feel more comfortable.

I stuff the pamphlet in my back pocket, grab the house keys I'd been given from off the foyer dresser, and step out into the evening air. Along with the sun, the temperature had dropped, and it was far more comfortable outside than it had been when I'd arrived. I walk around the side of the house to get the bike. It's dull-gray and simple, but appears to be in good condition. A few moments later, I pedal down the cottage's short driveway, turn onto the road, and point myself in the direction of Main Street.

It takes about twenty minutes of winding roads until I arrive at the store. Despite it being relatively early, the streets had been practically empty; when I pull into the parking lot, there are only a handful of cars. I don't see any other bicycles, so I choose to lock mine up right next to the entrance.

The grocery store isn't large, but it's clean and well-stocked. I make my way down the aisles, grab staple goods like bread and eggs. There are moments when I cross paths with the rare shopper, and my guard goes up, but the old woman bagging tomatoes, the man deliberating cereal - they all seem completely normal. I don't have the nerve, however, to walk up to anyone and say hello, and they too, ignore me in turn. It means the store is quiet, aside from the banjo-heavy folk music leaking out of some beat-up speakers.

Very conscious of my bike's limitations, I only select a few light groceries and make my way to the checkout. There are several cashier stations, but only one is being manned. A young woman stands behind the register. I approach the space, attempting to make eye contact with her, but her face is turned away in a different direction, and she doesn't react to me at all. With no other shoppers in line, however, I assume she's just zoning out, and I begin to place my items on the cashier treadmill. I glance at her expectantly, but she's still unresponsive, her expression out of view.