CHAPTER 13

Niko stared at his phone, resisting the urge to hang up on his boss. “Hello, sir.”

“Niko. You know why I’m calling.”

“...I’m afraid I don’t, sir.”

“Well, you should. You sorted that last email into Complaints.”

“...Yes?”

“It belongs in Grievances. You know this. Or you should.”

“...My apologies, sir. I’ll fix that now.”

“And waste at least another thirty seconds doing so. You’re very good at that, Niko. At wasting time. Mine. The company’s. Your own.”

Massaging his temples, Niko responded, “I’ve already fixed the problem, sir. And with respect, I think you’ve gone from instructing to insulting.”

“I’m just trying to give you some...motivation. It seems you sorely need it.”

“Sir, I make a small amount of generally reasonable mistakes given the complex system we use, and fix them as soon as I find them or have them called to my attention. I do not believe there is an outstanding issue with my work, as you seem to think. From what I’ve seen of my colleagues, they make a similar amount of mistakes in their work, but you choose to berate me the most—wasting both mine and the company’s time moreso than any single mistake I’ve made.”

“You’re getting awfully close to insubordination, Niko.”

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll just quit one of these days, then, considering how much you and the company seem to value me.”

His boss laughed. “Go right ahead. There are millions like you. You can be replaced in an instant.”

Niko suddenly felt hot, like something had burst inside him—similar to how he’d felt at his parents’ house a couple nights before. “There is no one like me! The only way I’m like anyone else is that I’m unique, just like everyone is! I’m a person, just like anybody else, no matter how much you try to pretend like I’m not! I’m not your fucking robot!”

“And there it is. Niko, you’re fired. You’ll receive your severance package, should you qualify for one, within thirty business days. Goodbye.” And just like that, his boss hung up. Niko grunted in frustration and disgust and ripped off his headset. He’d fallen for his boss’ scheme; the man had been goading him repeatedly for the last few months just to get him to slip and say something he could fire him for. And filled with rage and uncertainty and righteous indignation following his most recent visit to his parents, he’d gotten carried away and given his boss exactly what he wanted. What his father had wanted.

Idiot, he thought.

…

Giving Ralia a goodbye wave, Fyche stepped out of her apartment and began the long walk home. They’d had another self-defense lesson, and once it was over, they’d just...hung out for a bit.

That was still new to him. Just spending time with people for the hell of it, because you both enjoyed it. And she didn’t pester him with questions, or talk too much when the silence ran long. They both just let it breathe. And maybe there would be more than just companionable silence. When he was ready.

He was surprised to find she’d added a piece of furniture to her front room. A reclining armchair. He was even more surprised to find that he liked sitting in it immensely. I need to get one of those myself…

Arriving home, he set about getting dinner ready, and almost immediately yelped and stuck his burned thumb in his mouth. His phone’s ringtone had startled him while he was mid-pour of some very hot soup. Shaking it and filling a cup with ice water, he checked and saw that it was Niko. “Hey, you’re up late. And responsible for some very serious burns.”

“Did your ringtone scare you again?”

“...No.”

“Sure it didn’t. And it’s not like I need to get up early tomorrow. I suddenly have a lot more free time.”

“Please tell me you didn’t quit your job.”

“Of course not.”

“Oh, good.”

“I got fired.”

“You—what? You got fired?” Fyche couldn’t help but feel concerned. “Are you okay? Do you have savings? You’ve got the apartment with Kelsen, right? Do you need help with rent or anything?”

“Whoa, dude, chill. It’s fine. I have some savings, and I already put in for unemployment. There are pretty good, what do you call them, social nets here in Salica. I should be able to find a new job—through my school if I have to—and even if not, I’ll be able to get some unemployment money. More since I’m a student.”

“O-oh. Good, then. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m flattered you were that worried about me.”

Fyche dunked his thumb in the water, wincing. “It’s just—I mean, Doxen has similar programs. They’re just incredibly underfunded and...inexpertly applied, let’s say.”

“So they’re incompetent.”

“Pretty much. Better now than a few years ago, but there’s still a long way to go.”

“Well, that’s one more problem for this big happy interstellar family to solve. Speaking of, you practically had a heart attack, huh?”

“I mean...I was worried, yeah. You know I’ve been one paycheck from crisis before.”

“I know. I wasn’t trying to make fun. I’m just charmed. You must really like me.”

“Now you’re definitely making fun of me.”

“No! No. Just...I guess we really are a thing now, huh?”

“I guess. Like I said, label it how you want. I just know that talking to you and being around you makes me happy.” Fyche blushed, looking around to make sure his roommate hadn’t overheard that.

“It makes me happy too. So long as I’ve got you in my life, I can deal with losing my job and any crappy job I have to get in the future.”

They chatted for a while longer, not really about anything at all, just enjoying being together--such as it was, with half a galaxy between them. Eventually, hearing the sleepiness in Niko’s voice, Fyche insisted he go to bed and get some rest. Reluctantly, the mouse bid him good night, and snuck in a “Miss you,” at the end.

Fyche stared at his phone, feeling his heart skip a beat, and was overcome with his own longing to see Niko again. Ever since they’d met, everything had been better. He had someone to care about again. Someone who cared about him. Friends. A community.

...

Niko had stayed up all night again, chatting with Fyche for quite a while. Kelsen got up so early it was still arguably late to join them around the same time Ralia logged on, so they could have a meeting to rehearse and discuss before the video they’d be recording the following day. Early on, Niko mentioned losing his job to Kelsen and Ralia. Both were concerned, and quick to offer alternatives.

“Dude, that’s so shitty...they’re always looking for more clerks at my work,” Kelsen offered.

“And if that doesn’t work out, I’m sure we could help find something on the internet. Maybe something in web development? Finally put your skills to good use!” said Ralia.

“That’s the thing. My skills are being put to good use already.”

“You mean Size Doesn’t Matter, right?” asked Fyche.

“Correct. It’s like I was saying before: I can put all my energy—well, most, I still need to put some into my studies—into the site. We’ve been doing well so far, but I really think we can take it to the next level. Expand our userbase, increase ad revenue—without pissing off said userbase—and really get the word out. Maybe even crowdfund for the more ambitious stuff we want to do.”

Kelsen winced. “You know what I think about crowdfunding.”

“I know, but I really think you should reconsider. People have already offered donations here and there, and you know there’s an entire subforum talking about how they’d pay good money to have meetups and events arranged. We can do that.”

“It’s a lot of work,” said Ralia.

“I know. I’m under no illusion; it’s going to take months, maybe years, and a great deal of work not only on my part, but on all of ours. But it’s worth it. We wouldn’t have started this if it wasn’t.”

“...As long as you’re not getting ahead of yourself,” said Kelsen.

“I’m not. Promise. I fully expect there to be days where I feel like we made no progress, or even lost it. There’ll be days that suck, that drag one or all of us down. But we’re all here for each other, to pull each other back up. I really believe that.”

“...I’m in,” said Fyche.

“Yes!”

Ralia grinned. “All right. You’ve swayed me.”

“Okay, all right,” said Kelsen. “But you’re going to have to deal with the crowdfunding stuff.”

“Done!”

...

Later that day, Niko sat back from his computer. He still hadn’t slept, but he had created a donation drive and made a post about it on Size Doesn’t Matter, as well as spreading that post around on all social media and to every friend of a friend he could think of. It would likely be days before they got their first donation, and months before they had any significant amount of money, but this was a first step, and it felt good to have made it.

A pair of arms came around the back of his chair, and Kelsen hugged him from behind. “Hey dude. All done, then?”

“Yeah. Feels good. I know we’re a long way off and it’s going to take a lot of work, but it gives me hope, you know?”

“I think I do. How you doing? I know what happened the other day isn’t going to just go away. You don’t have to talk to me about it, but I thought I’d offer.”

Niko patted Kelsen’s arm. “I’m...well. I’m still filled with a lot of emotions about it, but I think I at least will be all right, in time. It does feel like a big weight is off my shoulders now. I don’t feel like I have to go back and subject myself to that anymore. You and Fyche were right.”

“You talked to Fyche about it, too?”

“Yeah. And other things. Shoot, I meant to bring it up earlier, but we got talking about the site, and then the video. Me and Fyche are together now. Like, officially.”

Kelsen grinned, and playfully punched Niko on the shoulder. “Way to go! But, no, really, good for you. I’m proud of you.”

“It was super awkward at first, but I figured, hey, fuck it, I should go for it. And he felt basically the same way.”

“Does this mean you’re going to stop making fun of me?”

“God no.”

“Ugh, you suck. Do I at least get to make fun of you?”

“If you can find anything to make fun of. But I doubt you will. I am impenetrable.”

Kelsen shifted his hug to a headlock. “As if! Now I have you, and I will not release you until I find something to make fun—hey, what’s that?”

“Nice try, fiend!” Niko twisted, trying to free himself.

“No, seriously. Does that mean there was a donation? Already?”

Niko stopped struggling and looked at the screen. Sure enough, there was a donation. For one thousand Salican dollars. “Ho-ly shit. Are you seeing this? Who the hell would put up that much so soon?”

“Can we check?”

“We can check what name they left it under, yeah, but it’s probably a screenname or something anonymous, like—” Niko cut off, staring at the screen.

“What? Who is...” Kelsen trailed off as well. There, on the screen, was the name Pakos.