LeafLink (ONC 2024) (Complete)

Chapter 10

I wake badly shaken, my mind filled with fragments of the dream. They are raw, like broken glass, and I am unsuccessful in dispersing them as I go about my morning routine.

By the time the clock strikes eight, I've planted myself at my dining room table. My real body is, at least, but my mind is hurtling towards the virtual headquarters of BioLink.

I have a much easier time of it than yesterday; it's like a dam has broken in my mind, and now things are flowing freely. It takes barely a thought before I'm falling through that tunnel in my head again, and I'm 'standing' in the conference room.

Sara and the others are there, and my anticipation for the day ahead clears any lingering concerns about my dream. We quickly launch into a brief, efficient meeting; after, Sara Sara sends us off one-by-one to continue our work. I don't get much of a chance to speak to the others, but they appear relatively calm and relaxed - even Johanna seems unperturbed by Sara.

My unease abates even further as I'm quickly sucked back into the challenge of the list. Now that I know what I'm doing, it's faster going than before. This time, I'm able to work my way through a handful of items - a chair, a spoon, a lightbulb. Still, there doesn't seem to be any apparent pattern with the list itself, besides the fact that they're all common, everyday objects.

And then I'm done for the day, and Sara is inspecting my offerings with a keen eye. I tried asking her about the creative team - what had inspired her, why she felt LeafLink needed to be exposed to art and language. But she brushes away my questions with cold efficiency, offering nothing but a polite word of approval for my efforts. Then we return to the conference room, discuss our progress, and she lets us go.

It's easy to fall into a rhythm once I've settled into Locust Valley. In the mornings I uplink and I work with LeafLink until early afternoon, or when Sara tells us to call it quits. Afterwards, I usually go for a bike ride, relishing the exercise after hours of being stationary. These rides also give me an excuse to snoop around town, but so far I've seen nothing truly out of the ordinary. Filled with quaint little cafes, shops, baseball fields and hiking trails, rambling roads and zero sidewalks - it's your classic New York suburb, if a little diminished. Sometimes I'll catch a glance of someone at the coffee shop sitting at a table with their eyes closed, twitching in that particular way, and I'm struck by how willing these people are to embrace this new technology. Their nonchalance is probably why the town feels so... normal.

In the evenings, sometimes, I find myself stepping into LeafLink again. Part of it is boredom, but I'm also curious in seeing what it's like from the other side of things.

I wander through the City, observing people as they chat and laugh with each other, play games, or just stroll around, exploring like me.

It only takes a few days for changes to present themselves.

It is the clothing I notice first. When I had uplinked for the first time, everyone in LeafLink was 'dressed' in simple, solid colors, in the barest impressions of design. But variety has begun to show through - I see dresses, sneakers, patterns. Curious, I ask a man wearing a bright graphic T-shirt that feels like cotton when I brush up against it. He points me down a street, towards a particular building. I am mildly shocked when I arrive. It has a facade; windows, a front door, panels of glass. Granted, there's still a sense of unreality about it, but I can tell immediately that it's a clothing store. Above the entrance hangs an old-fashioned sign with BioLink logo: the blue-tinted leaf they slap on everything. I'm initially confused; why can't people just think up whatever clothes they'd like? But then I remember that without the generator, nothing in LeafLink is permanent.

There are other buildings, other objects that have begun to feel real. Some, like the apple I see a couple enjoying, I even recognize from my own work. It is strongly gratifying to see these literal changes I am making in the world. I begin to look forward to these trips into LeafLink, to see what else has changed, day by day. A sense of purpose grows within me, spurred on by my steady progress. Between work, these excursions, and the occasional night out with the rest of the creative team, it feels as though I've begun to carve out a space for myself.