My voice quakes. ‘What if she’s still trapped in that place? Tobias, you said she hasn’t been seen in weeks . . .’
‘Hey, it’s okay,’ says Ashley, snuggling up to me. My cheeks are damp with tears. There’s so much emotion rushing through me, my memory rising up like a tidal wave and bringing with it an ocean of turmoil.
‘I’ll go there,’ says Tobias.
‘Wait, what?’ I splutter.
‘I’ll go to Moncha HQ. Tonight. I’ll make my dad take me down to the basement, we’ll find this underground house and we’ll get Monica out.’
‘Are you serious? You would do that?’
He nods. ‘Dad is working round the clock at the moment. He’s always saying I can visit whenever, even though I didn’t win the internship, but I said no because I didn’t want some kind of consolation prize . . . but now I will.’
‘I’ll go with you,’ says Kai, puffing his chest out.
Tobias shakes his head. ‘It will be better if I go by myself but Aero will live stream everything to the whole team,’ says Tobias, addressing all of us.
Ashley nudges me. ‘See? It will be okay. Tobias will find her,’ she says.
I grab the closest napkin and Slick. One of Slick’s appendages is like a pen, so I use him to draw out a map of what I remember. Every twist and turn I made following Jinx. Then I pass it to Tobias.
‘You couldn’t make this digital?’ he asks.
‘Hey, not everyone has a level 3 or above baku,’ I quip back. Then I turn serious. ‘Are you sure you’re okay to do this?’ Last time one of us went into the headquarters, we were attacked by menacing security bakus. Tobias might not be safe.
‘Of course,’ he says, his voice sombre. ‘My dad will be there. And if what you remember is right, then they’re keeping Monica against her will.’
There’s no more reason to stick around at the café, and besides – for once, I want Tobias to leave as quickly as possible. We settle up the bill and scurry out, leaving our half-drunk bubble teas abandoned in the booth.
We say goodbye at the streetcar stop, Tobias heading over to Moncha HQ, the others going home and me back to my apartment building.
While I wait to hear from Tobias, I know I need to get back to tinkering. Companioneering. Fixing things. I need my hands to be busy. I need my mind to be focused on a problem that I can actually solve.
But I need to take it step by step.
And the first step while I wait to hear from Tobias is to fix up Slick.
THE BASEMENT OF OUR BUILDING contains my sanctuary: a storage locker assigned to our unit that I have commandeered for my tinkering purposes. I’ve customized it to my exact specifications with shelving, storage boxes and hanging units, all secured to the cage-like metal webbing that surrounds the units. The other lockers hold rusted bikes and long-forgotten ski equipment. But my locker is my haven. It’s filled to the brim with spare parts, wires, electronics, a scavenged 3D printer, an old-fashioned desktop-style computer for offline coding and, of course, plenty of mains sockets to power the equipment and leash up bakus to.
This is where I fixed Jinx from a hunk of rubble at the side of a train track to the fully functioning baku he became.
The locker’s sanctuary is like a siren call to me.
I use Slick to unlock the padlock, then I send a message to Zora:
In the basement already. Top’s was a bit more eventful than we thought. More of my memory came back! I’ll tell you everything when I see you next.
Once it’s sent, I take a deep breath. Then I set Slick down on the table. Time to get down to business.
>>Is there anything I can help you with, Lacey?
His tone is friendly but creepy. It’s as if they’ve programmed him to have enough care in his voice to provoke a positive response in me, but not so much that I fall in love with him, like I did with Jinx.
‘Can you fetch me the standard level 1 scarab beetle schematic?’ I ask. Moncha keeps a basic diagram of all the different types of bakus’ circuitry on the cloud, in the interest of complete transparency, so I figure there’s no better place to start than by looking at the basics of his functionality. That way, I can see where potential adjustments or upgrades can be made. I need an easy win right now.
There’s a momentary pause, then Slick chirrups again. >>I’m sorry, but I’m afraid access is blocked to those schematics.
‘What?’ I frown. ‘Can you repeat?’
>>Access to all baku schematics is now forbidden. Instead, I’ve selected a behind-the-scenes tour of a Moncha factory if you’re interested in how bakus work.
I wave the video away as he lifts his projector to start playing. ‘This doesn’t make any sense? I’ve always been able to access schematics before. It’s part of the Moncha terms and conditions.’
>>The terms and conditions are constantly updating in order to reflect Moncha’s current policies.
‘And when was the last update?’
>>27 days ago.
‘But I didn’t agree to it!’
>>Of course you did. When you woke up and leashed me this morning. I asked you if you wanted to see the changes to the Ts & Cs.
I wrack my brain for the memory and then it hits me: he did ask me. But he’d suggested that only a single line had changed so I didn’t even bother to read it. I had just accepted it straight away. Like I normally did.
Always read the conditions of your contract. Mom’s words echo in my brain. But I trust Moncha Corp implicitly.
You did trust Moncha Corp.
But you know better now. Especially with the security team showing up at our door, searching the apartment without our authorization.
And the founder currently MIA, last seen imprisoned in her own HQ.
I need to be more careful.
I drum my fingers against the desk. This is annoying. I didn’t even think to print anything out. That would have been the sensible thing to do – to have a library of old schematics.
Slick lifts his wings. >>Zora has replied. She says she’ll be down in fifteen minutes. she says she wants to hear EVERYTHING.
Now that I have Zora’s answer, I don’t need anything else out of Slick. I turn him upside down and lift up one of his left legs to find the ‘OFF’ switch. It’s very fiddly and small, designed to make sure it can’t be accessed accidentally.
>>Are you sure you want to power me down?
‘Yes, very sure,’ I mumble. I flick the switch, and – to my relief – the beetle’s limbs go limp in my hand.
For a moment there, I thought maybe he would refuse to shut off. But that’s a stupid and impossible thought.
I look up at the analogue clock on my wall – one of the little quirks of my favourite hideaway. I note the time, then grab a piece of paper to scribble down a message.
Z, JUST GONE TO FIND PAUL. BBS.
I stick it up with a small piece of tape, then I lock the cage with Slick inside. I traipse down through the maze of lockers looking for my favourite fellow tinkerer. Paul has been in the underground companioneering business for much longer than me (decades longer), and if there’s anyone who might have a scarab beetle schematic tucked away in the corner of his locker, it’s him. He used to work for Moncha Corp back in the day, but I’m not sure what his job was. He’s a very private person, and I’ve never wanted to pry.
It’s a bit eerie down here late at night, with only pale yellow spotlights to guide me around the concrete and metal jungle, but it’s my happy place. I like it best when I know there’s going to be no one else around to bump into – no one carting down their skis or rooting around for their Christmas lights.
I can hear the tap of a hammer on metal and I pick up my step. He’s the only other person who I know would be working down here at dinner time.
But when I get to his locker, it’s almost completely dark. I press my face up to the wire mesh and peer into the darkness.
‘Slick, turn on the light,’ I say on autopilot, forgetting that I left Slick tu
rned off in my locker.
Then, I scream and jump back. A face appears on the other side of the locker. A tiny little monkey face. I can’t help but giggle as my initial fear dissolves.
‘Hi George!’ I say.
>>Good evening, Lacey.
‘Hey, Tinker,’ says Paul’s gruff voice. ‘Excuse George’s behaviour – we don’t get much chance for a bit of fun around here.’ His face flickers into view as he turns back on the overhead light. ‘It’s good to see you. How are you feeling?’
I grin, glad for some laughter in what has been a stressful evening. ‘I’m feeling much better, thanks, Paul.’
‘Good to hear, good to hear. Nasty business, hypothermia.’ That must be the official story that Mom has been telling people to explain my hospital stay. ‘And where’s that little cat baku of yours?’ He looks down around my feet, searching for Jinx.
I feel my face burn, and I hope I haven’t gone too red. ‘Something happened . . . I had to let him go . . .’ I mutter, shrugging my shoulders.
Paul raises his eyebrows. ‘I see.’
There’s a pause where he waits to see if I will explain further but one thing I love about tinkerers: they know how valuable secrets can be, and they don’t press. ‘So, what can I do you for?’ he asks.
‘I’m looking for some schematics of a level 1 scarab beetle baku. Do you have one printed out somewhere in those file boxes of yours?’
Paul’s locker is even messier than mine – if that’s possible. It’s also loads bigger. Somehow he’s convinced his neighbours to let him take over their lockers, and George will sometimes scope around to see if there’s any unused space nearby. Sometimes I think he would take over the entire basement if he could – though I’m sure he’d let me use a corner of it. His dream would be a network of tinkerers, working towards their own personal goals, innovating and dreaming new technology into existence.
For a moment, Paul’s face turns dark. ‘Oh yes, I heard about that on the forums. The new terms prevent most people having access to the schematics online. The Monica I knew would never allow that to happen – I wonder what’s gotten into her?’
I want to tell Paul everything – including my memory about Monica being kept in the underground city – but something stops me. I haven’t had the best luck with adults lately, and I don’t want to be disappointed by yet another. I want to wait until Tobias gets some more information. ‘Um . . . the schematic?’
‘Oh yes. Well, you might be in luck. I think I do have it somewhere. I’ve been meaning to sort my paperwork out for a while but it should be in the files out back. You can have a look yourself if you want?’
‘Okay, great.’
He unlocks the door of his cage and gestures at the filing cabinet and piles of boxes behind him. There’s a ton of paperwork to search through. Inwardly I groan.
But actually, I think he might be on to something. With absolutely everything stored on the cloud, it’s possible that if the internet went down and all the bakus failed, we’d have nothing real remaining. Bakus are supposed to be more secure than most clouds. They’re not solely reliant on the internet, or on mains electric power, like a normal phone. As long as there are human beings for them to leash to, bakus can exist. But what would a baku be without access to the Moncha databases, without the ability to communicate via satellite, without constant updating? Would they just slowly disintegrate, losing their ability to function? Or would they then be just the equivalent of robotic parasites, leeching off our natural kinetic energy?
It sends a shiver down my spine to think of it.
Something catches my eye and I send up a quick word of thanks that Paul is – while not exactly organized – thorough. There’s a whole box full of level 1 baku schematics. Mixed in with the butterflies, dragonflies and the praying mantises, there’s the one I need: the scarab beetle.
‘Anything in particular that you’re trying to achieve with that, Lacey? Maybe I can be of help in other ways?’ Paul asks from his place at his desk.
‘You probably can . . .’ I hesitate for a second, and then I tell him part of the story – about how without a level 3 baku, I’m no longer able to attend Profectus, and so I had hoped to change Slick to suit.
The lines that criss-cross Paul’s face draw deeper into a frown. ‘Tricky. Hardest part’s going to be the size difference. Level 3s are almost always bigger than level 1s, to accommodate the extra functions. That would involve completely overhauling the design of the beetle. Might even be beyond your companioneering skills to keep it balanced.’
My shoulders slump as visions of an ugly, oversized scarab beetle dance through my head. ‘Is there any way that I can do it?’
Thankfully, Paul has a familiar twinkle in his eye that gives me a spark of hope. I immediately sit up straighter. ‘Of course. Why don’t I come down to your locker with you and we can examine the little beetle together and see what we can come up with?’
I grin. ‘Thanks, Paul.’
He gathers up an armful of tools, and George nips around the locker, finding even more bits and bobs that we might need. He’s strong for a lemur baku; I think about the power that must be driving the pistons in the creature’s shoulders and elbows, the strength of the material that must be used. Since he’s a much older model, it’s not obvious what level he is. I’ve never asked Paul – it seems like a bit of a rude question.
Once we get back to the locker, Zora is waiting for me outside, her hands tucked inside the sleeves of her sweater. She’s not as comfortable down here as I am, and she looks visibly relieved as Paul and I approach.
‘Hi, Zora. Haven’t seen you down here in a while,’ says Paul. George drops some of the gear at the entrance to the locker while I open it up.
Zora smiles at me. ‘It didn’t feel right to be here without Lacey. Now that she’s back, I’m here to help her out.’
‘She’s going to need all the help she can get,’ he says, gruffly. I swallow. I’ve only ever fixed; I’ve never created before. This is going to take every inch of my companioneering skill if I’m going to pull it off.
My eyes pass through the shadows and for a moment I have a panic that I can’t see Slick on the desk where I left him, turned off.
But no – it’s okay. I fumble for the light and as it flickers on, it catches the greenish-purple iridescence of his carapace. His legs stick up in the air, like the stamens of a flower, his wings spread like petals. He could almost be a flower in this position – albeit one that looks like it would eat little insects alive. A metal Venus flytrap. Maybe that could be my first range of bakus for Moncha Corp, if I become a companioneer. Carnivorous plant bakus.
Zora takes a step past me and sits down on my wheeled computer desk chair, ready to get cracking on the code. In fact, she cracks each one of her knuckles and flexes her fingers in readiness.
Paul walks in next and picks the beetle up in his palm. ‘Let’s see what we have here. I haven’t had a chance to look closely at one of the latest generation beetle bakus and I wonder what they’ve integrated into the level 1s now . . .’ He puts a magnifying eyepiece to his left eye. ‘Hmm, this is a bit strange.’
‘What are you seeing?’ I ask.
‘I’m not entirely sure . . . hang on. George?’
Even though I’m sure that they don’t have telepathic communication like Jinx and I did, George seems to know exactly what Paul needs. He brings him a tiny eye screwdriver, like one that would normally be used to fix jewellery. Paul starts digging around in Slick’s body with the screwdriver and even though I’m not exactly fond of the little beetle, I tense.
But if there’s anyone I can trust to be gentle with technology, it’s Paul.
‘Hmm. What do you make of this? There’s some kind of . . . addition here.’
Paul pries open two of Slick’s hind legs. I look down into the beetle’s body. It takes me a few seconds, but then I see it. There’s an appendage tucked away. Another retractable leg. Strange.
I frown, part
of a memory coming back to me, as fleeting as a sneeze. Paul prises the extra appendage out of position. The ‘leg’ is filed down to a point. It’s almost like a syringe . . .
There’s a zap of movement, and the beetle suddenly comes to life. He flips over in Paul’s palm. Paul yelps and closes his other hand on top of Slick.
‘What’s happening?’ Paul asks. ‘I thought you turned him off.’
‘I did! When we walked in here he was silent. Maybe you flicked the switch by accident?’
But we both know that would be impossible.
The beetle flicks his wings, trying to wiggle his way out of Paul’s grasp. A moment later, he’s free and fluttering about the room. The scene is like something out of an old cartoon: I dive on to the desk to try to catch him but he darts out of my cupped hands; Zora launches herself at the wire mesh, almost face-planting into the twists of metal.
The beetle settles on a high shelf, just out of my grasp. He crawls backward into the shadow.
‘Slick, come back!’ I shout. ‘Slick, to me!’
There’s a moment’s pause, and then Slick reappears, flying back down and landing in my hand, as if nothing happened.
>>How can I help you, Lacey?
‘Tell me what that extra appendage is for?’ I say, trying to use my most commanding voice.
>>I don’t know what you mean.
I flip him over. ‘This!’ I say, pointing at the space where we’d seen the needle-like limb. But it’s gone.
‘What . . . what’s going on?’ I ask Paul and Zora. ‘Did he get rid of it somehow? Is this some kind of inbuilt security to prevent people from tampering with their bakus?’
Paul shakes his head, his eyes dark. ‘Moncha would never do something like that.’
‘But we didn’t just imagine what was there,’ says Zora.
We’re all silent for a moment, no sound but a gentle buzz from the overhead lighting. It’s broken by a series of electronic beeps coming from Slick.
He says: >>There’s an update to my operating system. Please leash me as soon as possible.
He flies down into my palm. I eye him suspiciously, but everything looks normal.
Unleashed Page 6
