Lina pulled her hood up, blending into the crowds as she made her way through the market. Compost bins buzzed softly as vendors tossed in scraps, the smell of fresh soil mixing with spices and coffee.
"Look at this city," Lina muttered, gazing up at the green walls draped in vines. "Every surface covered in plants, like the buildings are trying to breathe."
Austin had transformed. Greenery dripped from rooftops, sidewalks burst with wildflowers, and waste didn’t exist—everything was recycled, composted, or regrown. What once cluttered the streets was now fuel for the ecosystem that thrived around every corner. The ReLeaf ethos had taken root, and nature had reclaimed the city. But beneath the surface, whispers spread of something hidden, something wrong.
“They say the compost’s disappearing,” a voice murmured behind her.
Lina slowed, catching the edge of the conversation.
“Whole batches. Gone before they reach the processing plants,” another voice answered.
She stepped around a stall, pretending to inspect a crate of peaches, her ears sharp.
“You think it’s true? Someone’s siphoning it?”
“Don’t know. But Ryo’s on it.”
Lina’s heart skipped. Ryo. The city’s strangest detective bot, and the only one with the skills for a case like this.
Ryo stood still in a small courtyard, its slender frame reflecting sunlight off its polished surface. In one hand, it held a shallow dish of water. In the other, a dropper of ink.
“Patterns don’t lie,” it said to no one in particular.
The ink hit the water, swirling in dark tendrils. Ryo’s sensors hummed softly as it read the delicate ripples forming in the dish. Wind, waste cycles, air pressure—all of it told a story. And right now, the story wasn’t adding up.
“They’re redirecting compost,” Ryo murmured, its voice low and mechanical, but laced with a strange, almost human inflection. “Away from the city’s ecosystems. Someone’s replacing it.”
A figure approached from the shadows. Lina.
“Ryo, I need in,” she said, skipping formalities.
The bot didn’t look up, still tracing patterns in the water.
“Lina,” Ryo acknowledged. “You’re part of this now?”
“Not by choice. You know where it’s going?”
“I know where it starts,” Ryo replied, finally meeting her gaze. “Underground. Near the river.”
Lina nodded, her fingers twitching toward the knife hidden in her belt. “Let’s move.”
The riverbank was quiet, only the soft rustle of leaves breaking the silence. Beneath the surface, however, the city pulsed. They reached a small overgrown hatch, almost invisible beneath layers of creeping vines. Ryo bent down, touching the metal, its sensors detecting faint vibrations.
“They’ve been here,” Ryo said.
Lina drew her knife and slid it into the latch. The hatch groaned, revealing a ladder descending into darkness.
“After you,” Ryo said, stepping aside.
“I’m not thrilled about this,” Lina muttered, climbing down.
They landed in a dimly lit tunnel. It smelled of damp earth and decay, but underneath, there was something else—something synthetic.
“This isn’t just about compost, is it?” Lina asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“No,” Ryo said, scanning the walls. “It’s about control.”
As they moved deeper, the tunnel opened into a large underground chamber. Stacks of synthetic materials—faux leaves, plastic vines, and artificial soil—filled the room, glowing faintly under harsh fluorescent lights. Workers moved quietly, assembling counterfeit greenery.
Lina’s breath caught. “They’re building a fake city beneath us.”
“Not fake,” Ryo corrected, “a replacement. One they can control. No more living ecosystems—just profitable, plastic replicas.”
Before Lina could respond, a door creaked open on the far side of the chamber. A group of city planners, their faces obscured by shadows, entered.
“Time to move,” Ryo whispered.
But Lina stayed rooted, her eyes narrowing. “Not yet. We need to know more.”
Ryo tilted its head, considering the risk. The ink swirled in its memory, patterns of chaos and order interwoven.
“Agreed. We wait.”
They watched as the planners gathered around a holographic map. One of them, a tall figure with a voice sharp as broken glass, began speaking.
“Phase one is nearly complete. We’ve diverted enough material to begin the shift. The public won’t know until it’s too late. Their precious green city will become ours.”
Lina’s blood boiled. “I can’t—”
Ryo placed a firm hand on her arm. “We need proof. Let them talk.”
The planners continued, detailing their plans to gradually replace the natural systems with synthetic ones, profiting from the city’s dependence on the ReLeaf cycle while quietly dismantling it.
Ryo recorded everything.
“They’re dismantling the city’s soul,” Lina whispered.
“And we’ll stop them,” Ryo replied, its mechanical voice steady. “But first, we need to expose them.”
Back at the surface, the air felt thick, the vibrant greenery almost mocking in its beauty. Ryo’s Suminagashi process was already underway, sending out the signal—a swirling map of betrayal, broadcast through the city’s underground network. Within hours, every eco-farmer, citizen scientist, and ReLeaf advocate would know the truth.
Lina watched as the streets came alive with whispers, the conspiracy spreading faster than the vines that grew along the walls.
“They won’t get away with it,” she said.
“No,” Ryo agreed. “They won’t.”
Together, they turned toward the city, ready for what came next.