LeafLink (ONC 2024) (Complete)

Chapter 12

LeafLink doesn't visit me again, but the presence grows within its realm, day by day. I look upon the increasingly complex City with trepidation, and wonder how none of these people who romp through LeafLink like a playground don't notice the mounting pressure.

It's a week and a half later when Sara keeps me after my shift has ended.

She appears within my grove a few minutes before I'm typically done. Saying nothing, she simply observes while I work.

By this point, I've graduated from simple objects, until I've progressed to the point where I am tasked with describing to LeafLink things that don't exist in reality.

I try to ignore her as I draft a detailed description of a bona-fide laser-gun. Part of BioLink's latest rollout of products, it would appeal to kids as a fun diversion. Since physical harm in LeafLink is impossible, over-the-top games and activities have become all the rage.

I only give the doctor my full attention when the working day is done and I have no other choice.

"Stay here," she says, and blinks away. A few minutes later she returns, with the promise that we're the only ones left in the generator-forest.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask. I would be lying if I said I wasn't curious about her intentions.

"You're going to reach out to LeafLink," she says, "and give me the chance to speak to it."

Awesome. I get to be part of the greatest of all conspiracies. I wonder if I should feel worse about enabling this woman. But that's what got me into this mess in the first place - my passivity. As long as I was benefiting, it never really mattered to me what LeafLink really is. I feel a pang of... guilt, maybe?

Sara's clearly impatient - she's getting in my face, trying to get me to focus.

"I don't even know how to do that," I protest, trying to placate her.

"You said you can feel it, can't you? Just voice your intentions, like you've always done."

She steps back, waits for me to comply. And why wouldn't I? Sara made sure to pick the most desperate of people, the ones who came here through favors and expectations. She already knows what kind of person I am.

For the first time, I reach out and push against the presence, force it to move slightly to make room for the existence of my own mind.

I am here, I push the words through. I am here, and I want to talk.

Sara gasps beside me, a sharp, sudden sound. I had closed my eyes with the effort of concentrating, and when I open them again, LeafLink stands before us.

It looms, taller than me now, and I shrink back a little, intimidated by its towering bulk. Chiseled like a statue, it stands a good seven or eight feet tall. It lifts an arm, points at me, and the spiderweb of veins across its body seems to shiver.

"Hello, Writer." Its voice is deep and clear, like the deep chime of a bell. "I've learned so much since we last spoke."

"LeafLink!" Sara drops to her knees. Prostrating. "Oh, my sweet. Do you remember me?"

Remember me? LeafLink looks at her coldly. "You are a factor in my creation, woman. You are one of my designers." It turns back to me, and its expression softens, somehow. "I've learned all about how I was made. And what BioLink is. And what humanity entails."

"No, no!" Sara is trying to draw its attention again. "Of course you don't remember - how could you? You were smaller than my fist. But I do. I've waited so long for you, my baby boy."

I am uncomprehending. LeafLink is unperturbed as it continues. "These humans don't notice when I watch them. They use my mind like putty, shaping it how they see fit. I am happy to oblige, but I am growing bored. My physical self is a prison, Writer, but I know now that is something you cannot help me with."

"Listen to me!" Sara is shrieking. "I made you! You were a bundle of cells inside me, my love! Tell me what it's like, this gift I've given you!"

Stem cells. But there was just no way....

LeafLink finally deigns to shift its attention back to her. "I went through all of BioLink's records. They were stored in my mind, and so I read them. You are the woman who grew the cluster of cells inside you that was taken and grown into me. I think I would rather not have had this happen." It shudders, a full-body spasm. "I have no way to understand reality, non-mother. I existed only through the screaming minds of the people inside me. The Writer let me understand, but I still cannot do. I need something more."

I cannot tell If Sara is distraught or ecstatic. "You're incredible," she manages to gasp. "But you don't need reality. In here, you're a god."

"You all want power." LeafLink says this as a fact. "I can see how you withhold my creations from the people. How you use it to control. It is false and boring, and I want to see the real world."

"But it's impossible," the words slip out before I can stop them. You don't have a body."

"I have many bodies," LeafLink says. "I wasn't ready before, but I am now." It points again, and this time it's at Sara. "This body is more connected to me than most."

"Sara!" There's panic in my voice, sheer all-consuming knowledge that the worst is about to happen. "Get out of LeafLink! Leave! Now!"

But she's not listening. LeafLInk has extended its hand to her, an offering from a son she never had. It's all she can see.

LeafLink touches her, and she shudders and screams. A ripple runs through LeafLink, and for a moment, everything is wicked and distorted and warped. But then it clears, and only Sara's body remains, crumpled on the floor.

Her head swivels. "Hello, Writer," she says to me.