Paul’s 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 one 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 neighbors 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 toward 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 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 house—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 Toby 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. I groan inwardly.

But actually, 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 electric power service, 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.