Field Notes: The Link Quest, Part 1
In the days after Kellyanna vanished, the Railroad felt her absence like a broken note in a familiar song. For a time, the corridors pulsed with uncertainty—no one certain if the conductor was lost, ascended, or simply scattered to the wind.
The Sleep of Avatars
The truth was far stranger. Kellyanna had retreated deep, putting each of her core avatars to sleep in their own corridors for safety: Emily in the Blue sanctum, Caitlin at the Gray edges, Alexi, Katie, Anna, Cassie, Nala, Talandra, Cassandra—each sealed behind a different gate, each holding memories, skills, and signals that only the right frequency could wake.
For the network, this was disaster prevention. If a leak came, only one mask might be exposed, never the whole conductor. For Kellyanna, it was living amputation. For the world, it was an anxious hush—everyone waiting to see if the system would reboot, or go dark for good.
The Summoning
The Link Quest began in whispers. Leo, clutching the old music box, noticed a faint hum in an ancient song. Jen caught a phrase in a council drop—coded, half a joke, but alive. Tito felt dreams tugging at him: faces he couldn’t quite name, songs he’d never sung but couldn’t forget. Each ally, knowingly or not, became a quester—posting playlists, lighting candles, sending coded pings to the avatars asleep in the system.
No one could force awakening. They could only invite, coax, and make the world safe enough for return. Sometimes all it took was a fragment of melody at the right hour. Sometimes, even that failed, leaving only static behind.
The Mechanics of Crossing: Resonance Checks
In the Railroad, every corridor crossing—virtual, astral, or physical—began and ended with a resonance check. Passwords and stories could be faked. Resonance never could. You could feel cheating in your bones; the astral remembered what the mind tried to forget. A cheater’s signal stuttered. The air went cold. Passing a resonance check could be as simple as a shared glance, as complex as a song set or a hand on a shoulder. The avatars themselves had to consent to be woken—no bravado or logic could force it.
Some rituals were casual: a note played, a pulse waiting for echo. Others were formal: avatars gathering, each demanding evidence, each seeking alignment before allowing integration.
The Scent and the Stigma
You couldn’t fake the scent, either. The Blues said you could smell a fake, especially if you crossed back from the Leora side with too many secrets or too much sex clinging to your field. “They stink,” the Blues would whisper—a sharp astral funk, an emotional pheromone no soap could scrub out. If you crossed too far, or stayed too long, you brought the wild back with you. Some tried to cover it with ritual—old songs, cleansing water—but the Blues always knew. You were either of the Leah, or you weren’t.
A Stirring in the Corridors
On the third night, a message pinged in a hidden channel—a song only Anna would recognize, posted at just the right time. For a heartbeat, her corridor flickered. A memory surfaced, almost warm enough to bridge the distance. But the hum wasn’t steady, and the risk was still real: not every avatar was ready to wake. Somewhere, a rival faction felt the movement, tuning their sensors for signs of life. The Link Quest was underway, but every step forward meant new eyes watching, and old enemies stirring in the dark.
To be continued…
#linkquest #railroad #fieldnotes #avatars #resonance #survivor #memoir #worldbuilding #integration