Monica asks me to hang back once her speech has finished. The others leave, except for Mr. Baird, Paul, and Tobias. Zora lingers too, but I get Slick to send Linus a ping for her to wait for me downstairs. Slick, my little beetle baku, is no longer scary now that the update has been removed. Zora holds my gaze for a couple of seconds, then nods. She slips into the elevator with the others, and then I turn my focus back to Monica.

Her lips bunch up to one side, and her sloth, Pardem, hangs heavily on her shoulders. “There’s just one more thing, Lacey.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s about Jinx…”

At the tone in her voice, Jinx jumps up into my arms, and I hold him there. I stroke his head. At his request, I don’t use him as my baku anymore. I have Slick for that.

She exhales deeply and glances to Mr. Baird and to Paul, who both nod. Tobias comes and stands by my side. I’m glad to have the weight of him, his solidness, near me. I feed off his strength and try to stand a little taller. “Here’s the thing, Lacey,” she says. “You and I both know what Jinx is—what he represents. If it becomes widely known that this sort of technology is available, it would also be incredibly dangerous. As dangerous as the Team Happiness update was, but in reverse. It would be hypocritical of me to allow it to be out there. No one can know how close we have come to creating something real.”

At her words, I pull Jinx closer. How close she came to creating something real? There was nothing close about it. He is real. He’s real to me. His emotions, his feelings, his spirit—those are all real. So what if he’s made of metal and wire, of code and electricity? He’s alive. And he’s my friend.

Monica sees my actions, sees my arms wrap around him tighter, and she bites on her bottom lip.

“Lacey, we’re all in agreement here,” says Mr. Baird.

Paul nods as well. “We all love Jinx. But if the wrong people were to get their hands on him, you know what could happen.”

“No one will,” I say, blood rushing into my face. I bite down hard on my back teeth, setting my jaw to try and stop tears from flowing. I don’t want them to know I feel weak in this moment. I want to look strong. But then I realize I can look strong, even if my tears flow. It’s holding emotions in that causes weakness—fissures that grow into cracks that entire minds can fall into the depths of. A tear rolls down my cheek, and then another.