‘Jinx, can you pull up the schematics for a retriever baku?’
>>Here you go.
I smile at him gratefully. He’s able to circumvent the new rules and access the correct files on the cloud.
After double-checking my work on his paw, I can see that there’s not a lot else wrong with Vegas. There’s just some other ordinary wear and tear that might turn into a bigger problem later on down the line. I want to return Vegas even better than Jake could have imagined. Anything to distract myself from what I’ve learned tonight, and the fact that we can’t leave for two more days.
I think back to what Paul said, about how I reminded him of Monica in the early days.
Would Dad be proud of me?
I drop the tools, shaking the thought from my head. I can’t stop thinking about Dad. He left us – and even if it wasn’t voluntary, it’s been a decade since we’ve seen him. The chances of finding him now? It has to be next to impossible. My focus has to be on Mom. We need to find a way to reverse the update. And to do that, we have to find Monica Chan.
>>I think you’ve done all you can. Jinx gestures with his paw to Vegas
I nod and close up all the open casings, giving him a final polish with a fine microfibre cloth. He looks perfect. I grab Slick from where he’s charging on the mains beneath the desk, before turning the lights off in the locker.
We head upstairs and find Zora waiting in the hall outside my apartment door. She puts her arm around my shoulder and guides me in. I feel bone-tired.
Normally when Zora sleeps over, we’d watch an episode of our favourite show, Outerlands, and our bakus would fetch snacks from the kitchen, but tonight we’re just too tired. Just as we’re about to climb into bed, there’s a ping from Tobias. Slick reads it out to me.
TOBIAS: Hey Lacey. Checked in with my mom tonight. She says I’m fine to add a couple more people to the guestlist. Looks like it’s on. A car will pick you up early Saturday morning. Be ready – and bring lots of winter gear.
Zora and I high-five. It’s really happening.
Mission: rescue Monica Chan is on.
I SET SLICK TO WAKE me super early in the morning to make sure that I catch Mom before she leaves for work. Zora groans in the bed next to me as Slick’s buzzing makes the sheets vibrate.
I’m almost too late – she’s headed out of the door at 5.45 a.m. My eyes are bleary with sleep, but I manage to stumble from my bedroom door as I hear the chain being lifted on our front door. ‘Wait, Mom, can I talk to you for a second?’ I blurt out.
‘Oh sure, honey,’ she says, pausing beside the door. Petal flutters by her ear, no doubt alerting her that if she doesn’t make the bus within the next ten minutes, she’s going to be late for work. I feel a surge of anger towards the delicate butterfly baku, before I remember that it’s not really her fault. It’s Eric Smith’s.
‘Tobias invited me to spend the first few days of the Christmas vacation with his family up at their cottage. Is that okay? I’ll be back on Christmas Eve.’
‘Oh, that’s okay. I forgot to tell you that I’d actually agreed to work over Christmas this year.’ She leans forward and kisses me on my dumbstruck cheek. ‘It’s beyond busy at the office but I’m loving it. Are you home for dinner tonight? Get some take-out if you’re home before me. Also, I’ve been doing a clear-out, so can you take the bags in my room to the garbage chute before you leave for school?’
Then Petal buzzes in her ear and she’s out of the door.
Fury writhes through me, then disbelief, sadness and finally – acceptance. There’s no way that Mom would work over Christmas voluntarily. This is the update at work, and it’s made me more determined than ever to put a stop to it.
It’s still early, but I’m so wired by Mom’s reaction that I know there’s no way I’ll be able to get to sleep again. Zora’s still fast asleep, and it’s hours until I have to head to school. I decide to fulfil Mom’s request and take the garbage out. I realize that I haven’t been into her room since the update. I wonder if anything has changed there.
At first, when I open the door, I’m relieved – there isn’t any huge sign of her change in personality. She hasn’t swapped her colourful comforter for something plain and boring, for example. There are still photographs of the two of us on her dresser, and her make-up is neatly ordered underneath the mirror. I run my finger across the edge of my favourite photo – it’s of the two of us when we first moved into the apartment. There’s no furniture in there yet, just piles of cookbooks all around us. I’m sitting on a pile of them like a stool, and Mom has her arms wrapped around me. Zora’s mom had taken the picture, after arriving in a whirlwind with a tray of baked goods, her children – including Zora – in tow.
We look happy in that moment, our grins wide, eyes shut as we hold each other tight, even though I know that so much must have been going on for Mom during that time. Does she still wonder what happened to Dad? Did she stay in Monchaville because she thought that would keep her close to him – or did she have no other choice? A single mom, with no money and big dreams of becoming a chef but no way to go about it. Monchaville was a security net so wide, it was impossible to miss.
Impossible to say no to.
There’s another photograph next to it. One of my dad as a young man. He’s wearing a white lab coat, and at his feet is a beautiful German Shepherd baku. The silver frame is tarnished in a couple of places – and when I pick it up, I realize it’s browned in exactly the places someone would hold it in their hand. Mom must hold this photograph all the time.
The thought fills me with sadness.
I tear my eyes away from the photograph and spot the black garbage bags in the corner of the room. I pick up the first one and grunt at how heavy it is. I immediately drop it back down on the floor.
>>Holy bakus, what has she got in there, a ton of bricks?
Jinx slides in through a small crack in the door, jumping up on to Mom’s bed and not offering to help me at all.
‘I knew I should’ve got a stronger baku – then you could have lifted this to the trash chute for me.’
>>I’m your companion, not your slave, he says, licking his paw.
‘One thing you have right – I have no clue what she has in here that weighs so much.’
I feel awkward about opening the bag – Mom and I have always respected each other’s privacy. She doesn’t poke around inside my basement locker, allowing me to keep all my weird and wacky treasures – as long as I’m not doing anything too illegal, she’s happy to mind her own business. As a result, I almost never go into her room, unless she’s specifically asked me to. If I didn’t want my mom to snoop on me, I wasn’t going to snoop on her.
But this is stuff that she wants to throw away. So there can’t be any harm in looking. Also, I have this aversion to throwing potentially useful things away (Zora says one day I’ll be found buried under a mountain of useless electronic equipment). Maybe there’s something in the bags that I can salvage for use in the locker. I’m sure I heard a clink of metal when I put the bag down.
I untie the top of the black bag and peer in. ‘Wow, this is weird,’ I mutter, half to Jinx and half to myself.
Jinx is there in a flash, his natural curiosity getting the better of him. He scurries into the top of the bag, then drags something out between his teeth. He drops it at my feet. >>What’s this?
‘Oh, that’s one of my mom’s old cookbooks.’ I frown. It’s strange that she wants to throw it away. This is one of her oldest ones, filled with Post-it note flags and annotated with little tips and reminders in her neat handwriting.
I reach into the bag and pull out more. The clink of metal I heard turns out to be several of those giant old metal-ring binders clashing together. Not at all useful for my tinkering. But I’ve never seen them before. Inside seems to be a collection of stuff from before we moved into the apartment – bills, old bank statements, and, most shockingly of all, an acceptance letter to a culinary school in Montreal.
It has to have something to do with the update. But for the first time, I feel uneasy. Not going to culinary school – not following her passion – must have been a decision that Mom had made earlier on in her life, long before there was any update. Maybe she is happy where she is? I’m beginning to realize that not everyone is like me – so desperate to follow my dreams no matter what the cost.
If the update can take away the petty stresses, make every day feel like it’s worth it, put a smile on my mom’s face – maybe, just maybe, it isn’t so bad after all?
I shake the thought from my head. Because my eye has caught on something else: letters between my mom and dad from before I was born. I can’t believe she’s throwing them away.
The letters are old-fashioned and sweet – she would treasure these, not want to get rid of them. This must be the update at work.
>>It’s even worse than we thought.
I nod to Jinx. I skim through the letters, feeling like I’m intruding on something private between my parents, but also desperate to see something concrete of my dad. I read about how he yearns to be an engineer, wanting to make a difference in the world. Always pushing himself to work harder. I rub my fingers against his old engineering ring, which I wear on my thumb. It’s a Canadian tradition that newly qualified engineers wear an iron ring on their pinkie finger (but his is too big for mine). The story says that the iron came from a collapsed bridge. It’s worn as a reminder, a symbol of the responsibilities of an engineer to their work.
No wonder Mom thinks that I take after him.
It only makes me wish I knew him more. Paul’s suspicion echoes in my ears. Maybe the same thing which happened to Monica happened to my dad years ago.
Eric might have perfected the art of ‘disappearing’ people long ago.
I always assumed that Dad had just left us. Abandoned us with no hope of return. And if Mom had had any suspicions there was more to the story, she’d never shared them with me – until recently.
There’s one more thing I find in there. A little analogue watch, with a leather strap. You don’t see many of them any more. I wrap it around my wrist, pleased with the retro look.
I take the plastic bags but I don’t bring them to the garbage chute. Instead, I decide to store this stuff in my locker. Who knows if Mom really means to throw it all away? Plus, this is my history as well as hers. Maybe looking at it is upsetting, and the update is telling her to get rid – to purge herself – of any sort of negativity. But I don’t care. I haven’t been updated yet. I want to cling on to these little slices of our history, even if it makes me sad.
Tears begin to roll down my cheeks. Jinx comes up to me and nuzzles his way beneath my arm. I hug him tightly to my chest.
We’re going to get my mom back if it’s the last thing we do. And there’s someone who might be able to fill in some more of the blanks. An adult who once offered me so much help.
‘Jinx – do you how I can get in touch with Mr Baird? Don’t worry – it’s not so I can give you to him!’ I quickly add, remembering his reaction when Tobias mentioned our old teacher. ‘I think we might need his help with this.’
Jinx flicks his tail. >>I’ll see what I can do.
‘ZORA, LOOK AT THIS.’ I show her the contents of the black bags.
‘Wow, she was going to throw this all away? This update really is no joke.’ She hadn’t seen the consequences of the update first hand, but now she’s getting the idea.
I shake my head.
She breathes out a long, ragged breath. ‘Well, only two more days of school. Then we’ll be on the hunt for Monica. Don’t worry, Lacey. We’ll get your mom back to normal.’
Slick buzzes, and even though it no longer makes me jump out of my skin, I still wince with a touch of fear. >>There’s someone downstairs in the lobby to see you.
My eyes widen. ‘Oh, that must be Jake! I’d better go down and meet him.’
‘Want to catch the bus together later?’ Zora asks.
‘I’ll meet you at school,’ I say. ‘There’s something I have to do first . . .’
Zora raises an eyebrow at me. ‘You’re not going up to try and find Lake Baku on your own, are you?’
‘No, nothing like that. I promise.’
‘Okay, good. Because we’re a team in this, remember.’
‘I won’t forget,’ I say with a grin. ‘Thanks for staying with me last night. See you at school.’
I wave her off, then head down to the basement to collect Vegas before meeting Jake in the lobby.
‘Lacey, thank you so much. He’s back to brand new again!’
‘My pleasure! He’s a great baku.’
He takes in my plain clothes for school. ‘So, still not allowed at Profectus, huh?’
I shake my head.
‘Well, if you need anything, ever, just call me. I owe you one,’ he says.
‘Thanks, Jake.’ I have a feeling I might need him even sooner than he expects.
It’s still early when I leave the condo, but I don’t feel like going back upstairs. It’s early enough that the streets are still quiet except for the keenest of commuters. It’s not rush hour yet.
I walk until I pass the threshold of Monchaville, heading towards downtown. When we’re no longer on streets guarded by 24/7 baku surveillance, Jinx feels more comfortable to be at my side, and I catch sight of the black cat baku streaking along ahead of me. He’s waiting at a streetcar stop, and when I reach him, I put Slick in my pocket. Now Jinx and I look just like everyone else – owner and baku, happily coexisting.
Other people’s bakus are slightly more helpful than Jinx, though – of course. I’m the only one waiting at the streetcar stop because Jinx wasn’t kind enough to inform me that the next one wasn’t due for another ten minutes. Across the street from where I’m standing, waiting and shivering, I can see into the window of a local coffee shop chain, busy with people sitting at tables, sipping their winter-themed spiced lattes. No one is waiting in line – the bakus are doing that, while the people chat and catch up with work. I wish I could send Jinx to get me a hot drink, but somehow I don’t think he’d take too kindly to that request.
My eye catches movement on the roof, where I see a couple of stray cats staring at us, their ears twitching. But when I blink to check again, they’re gone.
Thankfully, it’s not too long until the streetcar pulls up and I’m able to jump on board. Jinx pays my fare, and we settle into a seat next to a woman with a super-cute Maltese terrier baku, all fluffy and white. His innovative fur has spread apart on his back so she can watch a video on her commute. It’s an episode of a popular reality television show – bakus and their owners compete in tasks to see who is most ‘in tune’ with each other.
Jinx and I would totally rock that show.
The streetcar pulls up at a stop outside the old warehouse on West Queen West, almost as far down the street as you can go. But whereas before there was the BRIGHTSPRK logo discreetly on the door, now there’s nothing. The windows look boarded up and broken. The whole place feels deserted.
Jinx leaps from my shoulder up to the windowsill. My breath catches as he balances on the thin ledge, but he manoeuvres with effortless grace. Once again, the detail in his craftsmanship absolutely astonishes me. He disappears through a hole in the window, gliding around the broken glass so that he doesn’t scratch himself.
I hang around outside, burying my mittened hands into the depths of my puffer jacket, my breath freezing around my nose. Sometimes I can’t believe how cold it gets in this country, and I hope that Jinx isn’t long.
It only takes a few seconds
before his face reappears again. >>They’ve gone. There’s nothing here any more.
‘Is there anything online that might tell us where BRIGHTSPRK have gone, or how to find Mr Baird?’
>>Derek Baird has disappeared off the Moncha system grid since giving up his owl baku, and he doesn’t seem to have picked up a BRIGHTSPRK halo.
‘That’s because no one uses those,’ I scoff.
>>He did say he would have to go into hiding once his secret came out. I bet Moncha want him punished for corporate espionage.
‘That makes sense.’ I remember how shocked I was when I found out my former companioneering teacher had been a mole for BRIGHTSPRK the whole time he had been working for Moncha Corp. But also I can’t help my disappointment. Monica had trusted Mr Baird enough to contact him when she attempted to escape from Eric. He couldn’t help her then. Now when she needs him again, he’s gone into hiding.
Jinx pulls up a bunch of news stories, projecting them towards me, showing me scary headlines of what’s happened to those suspected of spying. Moncha persecutes them with the full strength of the law. Monica might be okay with people messing with her source code once they own a baku, but she definitely doesn’t want them getting their hands on her new proprietary technology.
‘Can we talk about this somewhere else? We’ve still got ages until we need to head to school and I’m freezing.’
>>There’s an old public library not far away.
‘Okay, great, let’s go there.’ Anything to get warm. Jinx leads me further uptown, to a pretty building that once belonged to the university. It’s now one of the public libraries in Toronto – and they’re open twenty-four hours a day. There are way more libraries in the city now than ever before. That was a Monica Chan initiative. She thought it was important for people to have a place to go where they could be with their bakus but also read books.
‘One thing I’ve learned is that you can have access to all the information in the world (as bakus do), but if you don’t know how to research then that information is useless. You have to know the right questions to ask. And libraries can teach you how to ask those questions.’ Monica Chan said that in one of her television interviews.
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