Keychains ✔

XI

My co-workers and I watched Aurora's mayor and GreenGlass' CEO cut the ribbon in front of the new Timberline Library. A speech by our CEO. When she announced GreenGlass' plan of distributing free laptops to youth, it was punctuated with applause, then shuffling feet as we climbed the cement steps to the entrance.

"Ooh, I approve of whoever designed this," Danielle admired, leading her little niece and nephew to the play area.

"Race you!" Ella squealed to her brother.

"Eddy! Ella! One second," Danielle groaned and jogged after them.

For all the excitement—my team members had blown up my phone to smithereens with text messages—the library's interior was underwhelming. The library's exterior was constructed to match the ginger-brick buildings of Aurora's downtown district. Among the high-income neighbourhood of single detached homes, generous lawns and cobblestone driveways, I had expected the library to be grandiose. But the colour scheme was unflatteringly monochrome. The smell of polished desks and new books clashed with each other. It was much like exploring the inside of a sleek, newly-bought car instead of a community space.

I was not a huge fan of libraries. They were unnervingly quiet. The intense scholarly concentration muffled all other thoughts, even my own. But maybe that was what I needed today. Besides, as an information source and a comforting pitstop on any journey, they dampened my restlessness.

"So these are the computers your company makes," said Hannah. Our reflections were cast like black mirrors in the rows of desktop monitors. "They don't look different from the traditional models."

Vihan was using one of the desktops at the far end of the table. He clicked and dragged on what looked like a simulator, occasionally consulting an open textbook. There wasn't a discernible sign in his expression that hinted at what changed, if anything, following his phone call at the Farmer's Market. Emmanuel had sounded relieved. He only told me that his husband and son were out hunting for materials for a school project. Baking wasn't for everyone. But I hoped for Emmanuel's sake that once Hannah's business was transferred into his hands, they could appreciate what he was trying to do.

Erasing that future from my mind, I typed in my library credentials. The library logo glowed before welcoming me to the home screen. The keyboard has a distinct, lighter feel that my fingers easily flew over. "The computers are expensive for the things you can't see. I do think it's worth it. The cooling system lets it run for hours without heating up. The newer models are made of recyclable plastic. Mostly it's the internal processing components that changed."

"Are you going to use that computer? We're sitting over there." Hannah pointed.

My Google search of engaging art activities for kids turned out unhelpful. "Guess I'll have to make it up," I sighed, logging off.

My heels pressed through the thin carpeting. My marketing team, Hannah and I settled in the lounge area. Here, it was all natural lighting thanks to the large windows that looked over Aurora's downtown. Curiously, there were square panels on the table. Inside were electrical sockets, each with the leafy GreenGlass logo.

"How convenient," said Tomas, plugging in his phone charger.

"Don't get too comfortable. Is it me or does Marcus have no idea about the plan he sent us today?" Alek asked.

"I'm supposed to be at the Little Engineers program," said Danielle, checking her phone. She glanced at her niece and nephew who were climbing up the stairs to the second floor. "Do you think they'll be able to handle themselves."

Just then, a librarian walked over to our table. He had a disorganized air about him, if his skewed glasses and glitter-covered hands were any indication. "Hi, you're our GreenGlass people, right? Are any of you assigned to the art station?"