>>I’ve just had another message through from Mom. It says: Sorry honey, gone in to work early! I’ll see you after school.

Maybe she’s gone in early to try and talk to Eric Smith before her shift starts. “I guess, send her a reply, telling her okay.”

>>Done.

“Then send a message to the Team Tobias group that I’ll be arriving at school a little early.”

>>Done.

I hope my friends will show up and walk through the doors of Profectus with me. A show of solidarity. I feel very alone right now, with no Jinx by my side.

Outside, I see snow has settled on the sidewalks, turning slushy. Living in Monchaville means we rarely have to deal with the normal hassles of winter. Monchaville is the nickname we give the part of the city that is funded and maintained by Moncha Corp. Monica Chan always wanted to give back to the city she was raised in and to provide support for her growing number of employees. What started out as her buying her old condo tower turned into having Moncha-sponsored schools, a hospital, even a police force. It took the burden off an underfunded city council and promoted a sense of company love and loyalty that other big tech firms could only dream of.

>>On your left.

Slick warns me, and I step out of the way of a squirrel-type baku who sweeps over the sidewalk with his hard-bristled tail, brushing away the fallen snow and salting any ice below. The squirrel bakus (level twos) are issued free of charge to work crews in charge of city maintenance.

Monica Chan seemed to have an instinct for how to build a community. It’s one of the reasons she’s my idol.

Monica Chan.

I have a jolt of memory and the strangest image pops into my head of a long-limbed, languorous creature draped around her neck. The strangest-looking baku. But how could that be right? Her baku is a cat model. I shake the image from my head. Right now, I’m concerned about how to get through the first day back at school after a month off and without my witty companion.

My feet carry me toward the academy while my brain is in this daze. As I round the corner to the school, I see the familiar tail of Jupiter, Ashley’s friendly spaniel baku, wagging at me. Ashley’s fingers swipe furiously, seemingly in thin air—she must be playing a game projected by Jupiter. I grin widely. She’s come to walk with me.

An alert from Jupiter makes her look up and she catches my eye, giving me a huge smile. When I get close, she links her arm through mine. “I’m so glad you’re okay! We were all so worried about you. How are you feeling?”

“A bit nervous.”