As a member-owner at ReLeaf, my days are always an adventure. The morning light filters through my window, a signal to start another day filled with tasks that are as varied as they are fulfilling. Today, I'm starting off by loading up my van with light deliveries. ReLeaf's innovative system lets me make some extra cash by transporting recyclable materials to different points in the city, and today's route perfectly aligns with my itinerary.
My first stop is in the vibrant Mueller neighborhood, where one of my thriving vertical gardens stands tall against the backdrop of the cityscape. In the distance, the Main Building, regaining its original moniker after the ReLeaf initiative, is adorned with cascades of green vegetation and bright pumpkin flowers, an eco-friendly tower touching the sky.
Today's a special day - it's time for the cactus bloom harvest. But these aren't ordinary cacti. They're a unique hybrid, cross-bred with strawberry plants, yielding the incredibly sought-after Strawbactus fruit - a fusion of tart sweetness and succulent texture that local chefs and foodies can't get enough of.
Harvesting these precious fruits feels like finding tiny treasures amidst the verdant leaves. It's satisfying work, and it’s also profitable. Once the harvest is complete, the fruits are sold, and the profits are split between me and the homeowner, creating a win-win situation. It’s a little like solar panels feeding back into the grid - every garden I tend doesn’t just beautify the city, but it also creates a steady stream of income.
As I prune and water the other plants, checking their health and growth, I marvel at how every garden I've installed has transformed a tiny part of the city. They're now living, breathing entities that provide real, tangible benefits - environmental, aesthetic, and financial. They're silent, green engines of profit and sustainability.
As the day winds down, I head to my last stop - the very first garden I planted. I’ve been caring for it like a cherished old friend, but today something unusual catches my eye. There, hovering just above the ground near the thicket of ferns, is a silver cube. It’s about the size of an apple, gleaming under the setting sun, and it’s levitating. Yes, levitating.
I approach it cautiously, noting that it has no identifiable markings or Life Story metadata - it’s completely anonymous and incredibly cryptic. I reach out tentatively to touch it, and the day that started with routine tasks and a fruitful harvest ends with a mystery that sends a chill of excitement down my spine.
To be continued...