LeafLink (ONC 2024) (Complete)

Chapter 6

The generator inspires awe, but it does not evoke elegance. It is squat, and gnarled, and lumpy. Its base sits heavily upon the earth in a way that feels visceral, as though its huge bulk is actively compressing the dirt beneath it.

But while it is not graceful, it exudes a sense of power. It manages to assert itself against those within its presence, forcing one's gaze to return to it again and again as though possessing a strange sort of gravity. The other trees that surround it look spindly, almost frail in comparison to its stalwart silhouette.

When Sara makes no move to stop me, I draw closer, until I am within the shadow casted by its wide, dense canopy leaves. Unlike the LinkPorts, these are huge and paddle-shaped; they are reminiscent of large, wild-looking lily pads. The trunk, however, is a familiar sight, albeit on a larger scale. Woody fibers, thicker than my arms, circle and entwine and press against each other to form something impenetrable. But there are glints of something metallic nestled within the grooves and cracks: wires have been threaded all throughout the tree.

I glance backwards at the rest of the group. While the others have kept their distance, they too are entranced by the generator's strange anatomy. Sara, however, stares right at me. There's a touch of amusement on her face as she glides forwards. There's a pause before the others move as well, trailing behind.

She stops a few paces away and regards me. Light filtering through the low-hanging canopy drapes her in an emerald halo.

"What now?" I ask, composing my expression. I don't want her to see the reluctant awe in my expression. "We're here - so how do we get into LeafLink?"

She smirks and lifts her hand, which disappears into the lowest layer of the canopy. After a moment, the leaves rustling with her movements, she retracts her arm. There is a small, wooly fruit clutched in her hand.

The group clusters around (me included) to see what she's picked from the tree. With deliberate showmanship, she breaks open the fruit's exterior, peeling back the fuzzy rind. Within it nestles a multitude of small, pea-like objects. They are reminiscent of pomegranate seeds in size.

"The pollen you've been breathing in since arriving here was the first step," Sara says. "Consuming a single one of these will complete the connection, and allow you access."

"What are they?" Johanna asks, leaning closer.

"A tool of epigenetics," Sara says. "Your environment, living conditions - and your diet - can all trigger certain segments of your DNA, your genes to express themselves and manifest. The seeds of the generator, once eaten, will work along the same principles, stimulating dormant genes that will allow you to form a mental connection with the generator. The pollen helps the mind express the ability to receive information from LeafLink, but these help the brain develop the skill to send information back. A two-way street, so to speak."

"We just eat them - simple as that?" Bridget seems nonplussed. "What about a release form?"

Sara smiles thinly. "There's nothing to be afraid of. Every single person in Locust Valley has done this already."

"Alright," I find myself saying. I surprise myself with my own willingness to participate. "Hand one over."

It's odd, but in that moment I can literally feel a battle waging in my mind. On one side replays the horrid surprise I'd encountered at the supermarket, the terrible things that have been whispered about online about LeafLink. It reminds me that this was the thing that took my job, that left me spinning out of control and struggling to pay my rent. But the other, louder part of my brain has been thrilled since the moment I'd stepped into this town. I'd been provided a home, a job with mysterious, exciting, creative purpose, and the chance to make my mark on something.