PART 2 - ONE WEEK ON MOCCS CHAPTER 10

“All right! Now we’ve got some news for all of you. The new spaceport in Sangra’s capitol has finished construction, and is set to open next month. We find that very exciting! It’s another way for Latians and Moccans to meet and trade. Big_Goof_Ba11, what’s your take on this?”

“W-well, it doesn’t affect me directly; as our viewers know, I live in Teromod, Doxen, so I’m already close to a spaceport. But I am happy for the Sangrans who’ll get to meet incoming Moccans, and, uh, benefit more directly from goods and services coming from Moccs.”

“I for one think it’s super cool! Maybe next time we visit, we’ll ditch you guys and hit up the Sangrans.”

“Don’t say that, Pint!”

“Ah, I’m just kidding. You know you’re my favorite people, Sphinx.”

“I should hope so! Now, on to our next piece of information—thanks to a new deal and competition growing to produce Latian pharmaceuticals, the price of medication in most Latian countries has dropped significantly. Now, they’re almost as cheap as they are on Moccs!”

“One of my coworkers is p-pretty happy about that. He’s got a chronic condition, and before, his meds were, well, pretty pricey. From what he’s told me, they’re literally less than half the price now.”

“And while we’re on that point, with the new spaceport, we might see prices drop further.”

“Correct, Knight. Isn’t this great?”

“It’s awesome!”

“That was rhetorical, Pint, but yes, it is! Now, for some news from Moccs—that new cancer treatment we discussed about a month back has started clinical trials, and so far everything looks promising!”

“This is great news for everyone; if this new treatment is successful, it’s only a matter of time before it becomes available to Latians as well.”

“I wish more people were talking about this. Moccs and Latia are on the verge of curing cancer together.”

“It really is amazing. Okay, back to Latia, Doxen specifically: the capitol, Teromod, has announced the construction of a new district, one specifically for Moccans. Though some are happy about this, others are...less so. It’s become quite controversial, on both Latia and Moccs, and even here among our little group. Pint, care to comment?”

“Boo from me! I get that it’d be great for more Moccans to come to Latia, but getting cooped up in a compound completely segregated from Latians? What’s the point in coming, then? If you want to live around only Moccans, stay on Moccs!”

“I, for one, think it’s great. Not everyone needs or wants to dive in headfirst. Some people need to go at their own pace. Maybe, for some, that’s coming to Latia, but still having Moccans and Moccan-sized things around.”

“Well, when you put it like that, Knight...”

“Yeah, t-that doesn’t sound terrible when you say it like that. But I think a, uh, mixed district might be better. Stuff for people of both sizes. That way you’re not completely thrust into unfamiliar territory, but you, you get to mingle and get used to each other.”

“I mean, that sounds cool as hell, Goof, but it’s going to take some swaying of public opinion and some legislators getting off their asses for it to happen.”

“As you see, viewers, our own opinions aren’t quite in sync. I myself am torn somewhere between Goof and Knight’s opinions. But, and I’d like to stress this, we can all disagree respectfully, and so can you down in the comments. I don’t want to have to lock another thread, like I did last week. Now, it’s time for our guest this week! Everyone say hello to Samet!”

“Yo!”

“Hello.”

“Uh, hi there.”

“Hello hello good people! I’m Samet, a squirrel from Latia, specifically Bonaco, Doxen!”

“Welcome, Samet! We understand you wanted our advice on something?”

“Well, yeah, sort of! I also want to kinda talk to you and ask you about the Moccan district. See, I’ve got a friend. A Moccan. We haven’t gotten to meet yet, but we chat, like, all the time. We’re real close! Now, she actually wants to move to Latia. I’d love for her to. But she wants to move into the Moccan district when it opens, and like, I’m wondering how that would even work? It’d be hard to see each other, since Latians aren’t allowed in. I dunno, I guess I just want to be able to spend time with her in person, and what’s the point if she’s stuck inside the Moccan district the whole time?”

“Mind if I take this one?”

“Of course not. Go ahead, Knight.”

“All right. Well, Samet, this is a little tricky, but I do have some advice. First and foremost, this is definitely something the two of you should discuss more. If you haven’t already, tell her how you feel about it, and listen to how she feels about it. Second, recognize that everyone moves at their own pace. Like I said, maybe moving to the Moccan district is a good first step for her. Even visiting Latia is a huge effort for Moccans, so if she’s more comfortable starting off in familiar surroundings, let her! And beyond that...while it is true you won’t be able to visit her inside, there’s nothing stopping her from leaving and visiting you when she’s up for it. So it’s not quite the end of the world.”

“Okay, okay, yeah. You’re right. It’s not. And I guess I should talk to her more about this. I guess I was just worried what she’d say.”

“It’s all right to be worried. Just don’t let that worry stop you from communicating.”

“Okay, yeah. Thanks for the advice, man!”

“You’re very welcome.”

“All right, viewers. I think that’s about as much time as we have left for this video. Thanks for your time, Samet! Now, does anyone have any parting remarks? Goof, how about you?”

“Oh, uh, n-nothing from me. Just happy to have been here!”

“I think I’m good too. Glad I could help, Samet.”

“Oh, I’ve got something real quick. Latia, look out, ‘cause me and Knight here are coming back soon, and for a longer stay this time! So lay out the welcome mat for us, will you?”

“We certainly will, Pint! All right, viewers. As always, be whatever your friends and family need! Bye!”

...

It had been five months since Niko and Kelsen returned to Moccs. Things had been touch and go for a while with Kelsen’s parents, but eventually settled down; Niko’s parents, of course, hadn’t been told. Kelsen and Ralia chatted every day and video called nearly as often. Fyche had slowly been integrated into their group, his progress hampered more by his lack of technological and internet expertise than anyone’s reluctance to let him into their space. Niko and Fyche both seemed unsure of what exactly their relationship was, if anything.

The group had managed to get their website, Size Doesn’t Matter, up and running, with both Ralia and Niko actively moderating, and Kelsen and Fyche as more passive moderators. Most of the time, anyway. They had quickly gathered a cult following of people from both Latia and Moccs who were excited to meet each other for various reasons; some were good, others neutral but benign, and a few less than wholesome. Those had been banned from the site.

They had ended up on the news a few times—mostly just local news in Teromod and Brenn—and had been trying to get the public informed and interested, but they were still far from reaching the level of awareness they were trying for. Niko in particular was disappointed, as he wanted things to move faster, and had to be reminded over and over by Kelsen and Ralia that these things took time, and their results so far still weren’t at all bad.

After the video ended, they all stretched, sighed, or laughed, and turned to more personal conversation, but all too soon, for everyone, it was time to sign off.

...

Kelsen dropped his rifle and slowly sank down against the wall of the office he and Ralia were hunkered down in. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” he said, voice close to breaking.

Ralia sat next to him, and took his paw in hers. “I understand. It’s tough. None of us wanted to be in this situation. But if we don’t keep fighting, we’ll die. And I won’t let you die.” She raised her other paw to caress his face, drawing out an unsteady smile.

“I won’t let you die eith—”

“Oh, shit, fuck! N-Niko, I’m stuck again! How the hell do you move and turn at the same time?” Fyche blundered past the open door, rifle held rigidly in both paws, and began walking into the wall repeatedly. “God damnit!”

Niko followed close behind him, his movements much more fluid and relaxed. “You gotta twist your wrist a bit. It’s easy.”

“Easy? I appreciate that you guys, uh, got me these gloves, but they are impossible to use! Whose idea was it to make one side control paws and the other feet? It doesn’t make any s-sense.”

Kelsen raised a paw and pinched the bridge of his muzzle, both in person and in the game. “Can you two stay in character for five minutes?!”

Shrugging, Niko rested his rifle over his shoulder nonchalantly. “Gotta teach Fyche how to play.” Ralia just giggled.

A loud crash sounded outside, and the building shook. “Well, teach faster. The Magans are here. And it sounds like they brought a deathbot.” Kelsen jumped to his feet and picked his rifle back up, quickly checking his ammo reserves. “I’m set. Anyone need any gear before—”

A giant robotic fist crashed through the wall, sending Fyche flying and knocking everyone else to the ground. Kelsen began firing at it, joined soon after by Ralia, but the bullets bounced almost harmlessly off the metal shell. “It’s a 2.0!” Kelsen shouted. Before anyone could reach for a different weapon, the hand grabbed Niko and withdrew.

Niko’s casual manner broke immediately. “Uh, guys, a little help here!” The hand began to tighten. “Sooner than later! Get me out of here!” Kelsen swapped to a grenade launcher and fired at the bot’s elbow; he managed to blow a chunk out of it, but didn’t do enough damage to make it drop Niko, who started to breathe heavily over his mic as his hit points plummeted. Ralia was blasting away at the bot’s forearm with a plasma caster, but even that wasn’t whittling it down fast enough, and Fyche had managed to fall through the hole in the wall, losing half his health from hitting the ground below.

With a sickening crunch, Niko’s avatar was killed and discarded. He ripped off his headset and visor, panting, while the others were dispatched one by one by the deathbot and Magan infantry support. When his breathing was back under control, he put his equipment back on.

“...bullshit,” Kelsen was saying. “2.0s aren’t even a challenge. They’re just fake difficulty with having too many hitpoints and not enough destructibles. And sending one on wave three with four players? No. I’m going to be complaining on the forums all night.”

“S-sorry,” said Fyche. “It’s my fault. I’m just t-terrible at it. And these games in general. I appreciate you guys inviting me, I really do, but you’d, you’d probably have more fun without me.”

“No, no. It’s kinda fun being able to teach someone else. Plus I like being able to show off to someone who’s not as good as I am. Yet. Sorry about getting frustrated earlier.”

“Hey, how about we switch games for now?” Ralia suggested. “Let’s pick one a little less intense, so Fyche can practice using glove controls.”

Kelsen hummed. “Fine with me. Wanna just play around in that sim we found last week?”

“Absolutely! Fyche, Niko?”

“I, uh, I guess so.”

“Yeah, sure.”

It only took a few minutes for them all to quit out and shift to a much more forgiving game that was more about socializing than combat or tactics. It was a surprise hit on both Moccan and Latian markets due to its extensive character creation system and precise virtual reality glove controls, which allowed Moccans and Latians to play as their respective selves at their respective sizes, or for them to try out being another size. Or, sometimes, for all players involved to be Latian-sized and team up to destroy Moccan-sized cities.

Not that any of the four of them indulged in that. Kelsen did have a Latian-sized avatar, but only so that he and Ralia could spend time on the same scale; Ralia had tried it once, to see if it was fun at all, and ended up wincing and apologizing over and over after flattening one virtual car. Fyche was not interested in it all, and Niko’s avatar was Moccan-sized. After Ralia’s single attempt, they’d come to the conclusion that while it might be a fun diversion for some people, it was in danger of normalizing murder, property destruction, and size complexes, and had done a few videos on why while they did not think it was necessarily bad, they wanted to warn players not to confuse games with reality.

After all, letting the size difference cause them to do destructive things was something a certain black wolf might do, and none of them wanted to be anything like him.

Once they were all settled in Kelsen’s player home, he and Ralia lounging on the couch and Fyche holding Niko on an armchair large even by Latian proportions, Fyche continued. “I mean it. I can stop p-playing for a while if you guys want. You’d probably win for once.”

Niko shook his head, and looked up at Fyche with a frown. “Dude, chill. You’re one of us. None of us mind. Not even Kel, even if he gets too into the game and gets frustrated sometimes. If you need us to confirm it every so often, that’s okay, so I’ll say it again: you’re our friend. You’re one of us. We want you around. We enjoy your company.” Fyche flushed and looked away. “Now, if you don’t want to play with us, that’s fine too. You can come out and say it.”

“No! I mean, no, I...I do like hanging out with you guys. And thanks. Maybe I do need to hear it once in a while…”

Partially due to a traumatic childhood he’d still barely mentioned to the others, Fyche hadn’t had a close circle of friends in over seven Latian years. He was comfortable enough with his current roommate and civil with his coworkers, but other than one unfortunate abusive relationship, he hadn’t been close to anyone for so long he’d forgotten what it was like. At least, until he met Niko. Despite, or maybe because of the circumstances of their meeting—spurred by Niko being attacked and later seriously injured by someone he’d trusted a little too much—they’d become very close, very fast.

“Then we’ll keep saying it. Bring it in, you big goof.” Niko gestured for Fyche to bring him closer, and he gave him a warm, if tiny hug. Or, rather, his avatar did one of the four hug emotes towards Fyche’s avatar’s chest, while, unseen by Niko or Fyche, Kelsen and Ralia gave each other very knowing looks that were clear even through the context of the game. “Ugh. I mean, this is something, but it’s no substitute for the real thing. I’d give a leg to be back on Latia right now.”

“Not a l-leg. How would you get around?”

“Easy. I’d make one of you carry me.”

The group laughed. Shaking his head, Fyche asked, “How are your plans for visiting again going, anyway? You mentioned them last night, but I haven’t heard you say much about them for a while.”

Niko scowled. “We were hoping to come visit in like a month, but at this point, I’m not sure we’ll be able to visit within the next three. My boss has been a total asshole lately. ‘Niko, do this! Niko, do that! Niko, Email 2085f-17B was supposed to be filed under Promotional, not Informational!’ And every time I screw up—or every time he says I screwed up even though I’m doing the exact same thing all my coworkers are doing—he looks down at his phone and says ‘Hmm, with this performance, I’m not sure we’ll be able to give you that time off you asked about.’ The conference calls are total bullshit. I just know my dad said something to him at church.”

“That’s, that’s gotta be illegal,” Fyche said.

“Not if I can’t prove anything. Swear to god, I’m gonna quit.”

“For the record, I have recommended that he not do that,” said Kelsen.

“Yeah, maybe not,” Fyche agreed.

Ralia took a few moments to respond. “Niko, if you’re not happy at your job, you should absolutely look for one that would make you happier. But I wouldn’t just up and quit before you’ve got one lined up.”

“But think about it! If I didn’t have this stupid job, I could devote a bit more time to my studies, and a lot more time to Size Doesn’t Matter! Get our message out there! Plus, once we had more viewers and users, we’d start bringing in some money from ads and subs. If I worked hard enough at it, it could be my job!”

The others weren’t quite convinced.