Page 61 of Jinxed
And where once upon a time, Dad came to work every day.
I shift from foot to foot, wriggling my toes to keep them warm. The headquarters are just east of downtown Toronto, on the shoreof Lake Ontario, in a part of Toronto that until twenty years ago was known as the Distillery District. Just around the corner is the BakuBeats warehouse, where I celebrated with my former teammates. I remember reading that the Distillery District was once Monica Chan’s favourite part of the city – a blend of old red brick and modern glass towers, a collision of history and modernity that made herhappy. Plus, it was the location of her favourite coffee shop.
When she made her money, she bought out the historic buildings, and built her headquarters.
It was a controversial move. So many people protested at this young tech CEO coming in and commandeering a place that had been not only a great tourist attraction, but the setting of countless movies and a place of historic importance forthe city. But Monica won everyone over, keeping the historic feel and spirit of openness to the public, while shrouding the actual headquarters themselves in mystery. The headquarters took almost a decade to complete – a lifetime in an era where entire sixty-plus-storey condo towers shot up like weeds in the space of a few months. Yet from the surface – and from the air – nothing about the DistilleryDistrict looked any different for Moncha’s involvement. Plenty of rival firms sent drones overhead to find out exactly what was going on with the building, bribed employees and workmen to act as spies. But there’s never been a public leak. It’s like the Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory of tech: totally out in the open, and yet fully concealed.
And I’m about to be allowed in. I hope it doesn’tdisappoint. I crane my neck as employees walk past me and into the building. From what I’ve glimpsed so far, the lobby interior looks just like any other corporate office.
Jinx sits at my feet, grooming himself. I didn’t know what to wear, so I’m in the most sensible corporate-type clothing that I own – a plain black dress that I borrowed from my mom and a dark red cardigan underneath my pufferjacket to ward off the cold November air, and a pair of thick black tights and boring patent leather Mary Janes that make me feel like I’m five and forty years old all at the same time. How does that work? With my asymmetrical bob falling over my eyes and thick glasses, I don’t think I’m fooling anyone into thinking I’m cool enough to work here, and – seeing the streams of Moncha employees walkingin sweats and oversized parkas, I wish I had just gone with my normalout of schooluniform of trainers, jeans and a button-down shirt.
Jinx buzzes. >>Teacher and hostiles approaching.
I look up and see Mr Baird, with the other team captains. I swallow down my feelings of insecurity, and my mixed emotions at seeing Tobias again. His face is buried in the hood of his jacket, his posture hunchedover, his back turned to me.
I can’t tell what is worse – him ignoring me, or the open hostility on the faces of Gemma and Elektra. They’ve both got new versions of their bakus to replace the ones that were destroyed by Jinx in the Baku Battle.
Tears threaten to prick at my eyes, but I hold them back. I’m here at Moncha headquarters now. I’m going to make the most of it.
‘Before we go in,’says Mr Baird, his voice tense, ‘I’m afraid I have to black-mark all of your bakus. Security reasons.’
>>No, I don’t want...
Jinx wriggles in my arms, trying to escape, but Mr Baird latches the mark on in time. I feel sick, as if I’ve violated Jinx’s trust. But maybe it’s better for us both – at least he won’t attract any unwanted attention while he’s in that state. I take a deep breath,and remind myself that I’m about to embark on a tour of a building I’ve wanted to see all my life.
We head in through the automatic doors, and I gasp.
What I’d seen before – the lobby that looked like every other boring corporate office block – was just an illusion. A hologram laid behind the doors, to fool anyone who was looking in from the outside.
The real lobby?
It’s a cathedral of lightand space and green andcurves. The building is not the vision of the future I saw in old sci-fi flicks, all shiny chrome and glass (only the bakus wandering around are evidence of that). This is warm red brick and tiled mosaic floors, renovated to take advantage of the natural light, streaming in through iron-clad squares of window. There are trails of hanging vines and ivy, and bright pops ofcolour from the occasional bloom. A fountain bubbles up from the centre, adding to the serene atmosphere. There are perches everywhere for flying bakus, obstacle courses around the walls for land-based ones, and snugs for leashing up.
We’re greeted at the fountain by a young woman with a stunning lynx baku. She steps forward to shake Mr Baird’s hands. ‘Are these the team captains?’ she asks,giving us a beaming smile.
‘All present and accounted for,’ says the teacher.
‘Well then, if you guys would like to follow me... I can give you the grand tour! My name is Nina Fiore, and this is my baku, Bright. I’m a high-level baku designer here at Moncha Corp. We have about an hour before the Baku Battles, so lots to cram in.’ She leans in towards us conspiratorially. ‘So many of us haverequested the afternoon off to watch – lots of former Baku Battle alumni in this building! Looking forward to a great show! I especially can’t wait to see that eagle baku in action. I remember when he was just a few sketches of a pencil on paper in the Moncha brainstorming lab.’ To my shock, she actually wipes a tear away from her eye. But then my heart swells with pride. I knew that the peoplewho worked at Moncha really cared about what they were creating, and here was direct proof.
‘Speaking of,’ Nina continues, after gathering herself, ‘let’s head to the brainstorming lab now. It’s as good a place to start as any...’
If could have bottled my own feelings in the hour that followed, I would have: my emotions swapping between elation and wonder, delight and curiosity and awe. Anyunease or discomfort I had is wiped away. Being here is better than Disney World, better than Christmas – the inner workings of Moncha are exactly what I had envisioned and more.
More, because people seem to actuallyenjoyworking here. The brainstorming lab is filled with people collaborating, using their bakus to project ideas on to large white tables. We get a glimpse of the manufacturingplant, which is like my basement locker on steroids: I glimpse every different kind of material and machinery I could ever imagine working with, all state-of-the-art, and the companioneers inside all smile and wave at us as we pass by.
Nina informs us that Moncha HQ is totally self-sufficient, the machines and computers running on green energy provided by solar panels in the roof, and even thewater is recycled daily so nothing is taken from the city’s mains. It’s nothing like the depictions of working life on TV, the daily grind, bracketed by boring commutes. There’s a genuine buzz in the air, electric in its intensity. These are people keyed up on a different plane. I wish that I could have brought Mom and Zora with me. They would have understood, then, what I meant about not beingsatisfied with simply being ‘content’. I wanted to strive for more. I wanted to strive forthis.Forjoy.
Me being me, all this is accompanied by an undercurrent of panic that maybe I won’t get there. Not even the angry team captains can make me feel as bad as I manage to do to myself. The other captains seem so at ease with their abilities, their innate confidence shining through. They don’tdoubt their place here. But even though I’ve known my whole life that I wanted to be a companioneer, even as the ring around my finger tells me that engineering is in my blood, even as Jinx and Aero and Jupiter are working proof that I have some skills, I still worry that I don’t belong.
No, it’s not that.I remind myself.The reason you don’t feel comfortable is because youdidn’tearn yourself a place at Profectus. You were rejected. You didn’t make Tobias’s team; there was a mistake. You were never a wild card. It was a fluke.Your true baku is sitting in a box on a shelf in your storage locker and you should be at St Agnes.
But then there’s another voice. A voice that says: Fluke or not, you’re here now. You have to embrace it. You have to live it. And you have to run with it, asfast and as hard as you can, to make it that much harder for anyone to take it away from you.
Maybe it will all come crashing down. But I’ll be damned if I’m the one who presses down on the detonator for the explosion.
We travel down several flights of stairs, the tension rising in the air between the other captains as battle time draws near.
Even though we’re underground, the hallways arewide and spacious, the ceiling height generous – so it feels as if there is a lot of light. There are even ‘windows’ at specific intervals, programmed to show off different outdoor scenes – like a stunning waterfall or leafy forest.
