LeafLink (ONC 2024) (Complete)

Chapter 9

I learned a lot that first day. Again and again, I form paper from nothing, pouring words down into the pages. Apples, each one more detailed and solid from the last, are offered to me, until I'm satisfied with my handiwork. There seems to be no distinction between the trees; all the progress I gain with one specimen is carried over to another when I engage with it.

I am pleasantly surprised when LeafLink, after a while, shows signs that it remembers each attempt I make. Eventually, just thinking the word apple elicits a perfect emulation of the real thing. But it's more than that. All the examples I've written about are red apples, like Granny Smiths, or Fujis, but when I ask for a green apple on a whim, the understanding seems to cross over. I'm presented with one that is just as indiscernible as the other attempts, respectively - it even managed to capture the subtle sourness of the green variety.

I don't realize how much time has passed until I turn away from a generator tree and see Sara standing in front of me.

"Jesus Christ!" I clutch my chest, backpedaling. "You came outta nowhere!"

She shakes her head slightly, but I can tell she's amused.

"You've been busy," she says, bending down to pick up one of the many apples littered around us. She brings it closer, letting it catch the light. "I'm very impressed. This truly looks like the real thing."

I'm a bit proud of myself. "It was easy, once I stopped trying to hold everything in my mind." I proceed to explain my process. "Writing seems to really get your intentions across."

Sara's not really listening to me, though. She brushes her hand across a generator-tree, and another perfect apple falls into her lap.

"It understands," she breathes, regarding the apple. "After just a single day."

"Well, it wasn't too hard..." I trail off, once I see her expression.

"The board rejected the idea, initially," she murmurs, "hiring you and the rest of your team, I mean. They were convinced the problem was in the technology. I had to work so very hard to get this approved. Did you know, Mr. Vitalli, that you are the first person to ever write to LeafLink?"

I shrug. "It didn't take too long to figure out."

"Hmm." She regards me. "Why is that?"

"Because..." I think about this. "Because I thought the problem was that it didn't understand me - not with thought alone. I needed something clearer."

"Language."

"What?"

"Language," she repeats herself. "You're teaching LeafLink how to communicate, aren't you?"

I don't say anything; the way she speaks about LeafLink is vaguely unsettling, as though it were something other than the virtual world around us. "Anyway, Mr. Vittali-"

"Call me Anton," I say.

"Okay, Anton - you're shift's over. It's time to open your eyes."

"Aright, Sara." I say.

"Dr. Kaur, please," is the last thing she says before I return to reality.

With a momentary flicker of darkness, the forest is replaced by the white walls of the conference room. I'm dimly aware that the others are still 'uplinked,' as the cashier last night would have put it, but most of my attention is directed towards my aching body and very unhappy bladder. I force muscles that have been stagnant for too long to carry me through the hallway towards the lobby. There, the receptionist directs me to a bathroom, wherein I promptly relieve myself.