Moltara's Core Beliefs

      Stealth paced back and forth across the apartment, the brown Grundo putting his hand to his forehead. Jacob, a Christmas Kacheek, sat at the kitchen table, fists clenched atop its surface, trying desperately to ignore the stress sweat dripping down onto his brass gear goggles. His Albot, H.O.O.T., whirred quietly, likely sensing the tension.

      “We're...complicit in this, Stealth,” Jacob said feebly, his voice trembling as he hugged H.O.O.T. to his chest.

      “I'm complicit. I'm the one who's worked at the Obsidian Quarry for years, not you.”

      “I should have asked questions sooner!” Jacob yelled. “Come on, Liquid Obsidian? Obsidian is volcanic glass, Stealth! If you melt it down it just becomes lava again...how was he turning it into fuel? Unless it was some form of arcane magic and one entirely unlike that of the Magma pets' magic, it doesn't make sense at all...or at least, it didn't. Now that we know the truth about the fuel...”

      “...It makes complete sense?” Stealth added.

      “...Yeah,” Jacob said with a sigh. “I suppose we both had the wool pulled over our eyes. But we can course-correct, right? Incite some sort of change?” He looked toward Stealth, who looked back only briefly, then shifted his eyes downward.

      “Tomorrow, I'm going back to the quarry.”

      “Stealth, that's...you can't just go back to the quarry after this...not until it's wrested from the crooked claws of that Monty McTaggart fellow's estate.”

      “Jacob, I HAVE to go back. I may be below the foreman and McTaggart in rank, but I have undeniable sway. I've worked there for years, and a lot of the other guys rely on me and look to me for guidance.”

      “But,” Jacob said before Stealth continued.

      “...Which is why I'm leading a walkout tomorrow, a permanent one.”

      Jacob's eyes widened. “Wow, that's...incredibly admirable. But do you really expect them all to just quit their jobs with no alternative?”

      “Not all of them, no. But I do expect enough of them to do it. Besides, they're not completely without prospects. I've talked to a few of the guys already, and we planned on starting our own business together. But more importantly, we need your help. Do you still have those contacts with the Neopian Times?”

      “Yeah,” Jacob said, “I still keep in touch with Leira every now and then, and I know a few others through my work with the Seekers. Why?”

      “We're gonna need coverage. And more importantly, we're gonna need a public speaker. Any chance you'd be willing?”

      “Normally speaking in front of that many people would give me pause...but considering what's at stake here, of course, Stealth,” Jacob said with a smile, putting a reassuring paw on Stealth's shoulder. “I'll draft the neomail and send it out as soon as possible.”

      “Oh, and if possible...we'd like you to use your tinkering skills to help with the new business,” Stealth added. Jacob, determined, nodded his head in agreement.

      That night, Jacob hurriedly engaged in continuous correspondence, while Stealth readied himself to rally his co-workers. The night would be long, but with enough luck, their gambit would be a successful one. McTaggart had done a lot of harm to Moltara and Neopia as a whole with relatively little work on his part, but now it was up to the Moltaran people to put in a ton of work to reverse it.

      Morning had finally arrived for Moltara (not that they could see the sun, of course), and Jacob stood outside the gates of the Obsidian Quarry, cue cards shaking in his hands. He readjusted his goggles once more, praying that Stealth and the other quarry workers would show up. News teams had arrived right on time, and the small Kacheek donned a smile in an attempt to feign confidence over what he was about to do. Maybe, with enough overthinking, it would no longer be a feint at all.

      “Wow, Leira really pulled out all the stops,” Jacob said to himself quietly as he saw news crews from the Neopian Times, the Haunted Woods Reader, the Kiko Lake Happenings, the Krawk Island Chronicles, the Shenkuu Bulletin, and countless others arrive at the scene. He'd only really expected the Neopian Times, and then maybe the local Rocky Times News Journal to be interested in the story, but apparently word travelled quickly.

      The quarry gates opened. Jacob saw Stealth march straight for the gates, a stern look on his face that was most unusual for his typically jokey demeanour. And then, like clockwork, following him was a parade of protesting pets, clad in their working gear and bearing equally stern countenances. Stealth nodded toward Jacob, who got ready and turned to the crowd of reporters.

      “Fellow Moltarans and concerned Neopians alike, my name is Jacob, and I'm here to speak on behalf of these brave, former workers of the Obsidian Quarry, now under the ownership of the Moltara Obsidian Company. Recently, news has gotten out that the Liquid Obsidian fuel product, put out by said company, caused severe environmental impacts and ecological damage, clouding our skies and poisoning our water. Obsidian was not meant to be transmogrified into a liquid fuel source, and this was known by the CEO, Monty McTaggart. He then covered up all evidence of this destruction and continued to sell this fuel to the Neopian masses while suppressing alternative energy solutions. The rumours circulating concerning his ties to crime lord Malkus Vile only serve to make matters worse.”

      Cameras were flashing. Jacob pulled at his shirt collar, cleared his throat, and continued.

      “This outrageous display of greed and antipathy flies in the face of the values of Moltara. For thousands of years, Moltara has upheld its promise to protect Neopia's ecosystems from natural disasters and climate calamities caused by Neopia's own unstable core. We've upheld these traditions for longer than anyone here has been alive. Moltara values progress, but not at the expense of what matters most: the planet itself. These brave workers have hung up their lanyards for the final time. Now, they wish for me to announce what they're going to be doing next.”

      Jacob pulled a cover off of a large poster that Stealth and his work buddies had made the night before. The logo for the “Moltara Menagerie” was proudly displayed.

      “Regret does not begin to express how many of us feel, but we also wish to make right with Neopia going forward. We figured the best way to do this was to make life easier for perhaps the species most at risk from ecological disasters. As such, we will begin development on the Moltara Menagerie, a Petpet sanctuary and conservation centre located here in Moltara. Our proposal involves the use of a sustainable steam-powered temperature regulation system to climate-control the facility, allowing for Petpets from anywhere in Neopia to comfortably live in peace. Admission fees will pay for the upkeep, the payment of staff, and, most importantly, the care of the Petpet inhabitants.”

      A yellow, bespectacled Blumaroo in the crowd raised his hand and began to speak. “News-a-Roo here, reporting for Roo Island Magazine. You've proposed a regulatory cooling system unlike any that has been seen in Moltara before. How do you plan to create this without relying on dangerous fuels like Liquid Obsidian?”

      Jacob nodded. “That's a valid question. It's completely reasonable to have suspicions given what's happened with the Moltara Obsidian Company. That being said, this cooling system is still in the design phase at the moment. I'm creating it myself. The plan is to use Moltara's signature steam-powered systems, brought about by traditional Moltaran geothermal energy extraction, to power this machinery. This should allow Petpets that would normally not be able to live in Moltara, such as Aquatic, Maraquan, and Wintery Petpets, to live comfortably in an artificial, but fully realized, environment. Moltarans who may not have ever engaged with these Petpet species will be able to do so at the facility.”

      Stealth watched on as Jacob fielded more and more questions from the various present journalists. Once the crowds finally dispersed, the two friends went out to get food at Molten Morsels. The roar of the crowd was matched only by the roar of the fire that was searing their afternoon special. The duo greeted the owner, a rather tough-looking Bruce who nonetheless had a smile on his face.

      “Hey fellas, what'll it be?” he casually asked.

      “The same as usual, please,” said Jacob, readying his Neopoints.

      “Two steaming root salads and potato shakes, coming up,” said the Bruce, taking the neopoints and generous tip and heading to the kitchen. In no time at all, their orders came down the conveyor belt, and they began to dig in. Or...at least Stealth did.

      “Come on, why the long face? I'd say today was a rousing success!” said Stealth as he blew on a forkful of his salad.

      “I'm just trying to figure out how I'm going to get this system to work. I've been wracking my brain and yet...nothing.”

      “Come on. You're in like, the top eighteen-ish tinkerers in all of Moltara! I'm sure it'll be fine,” said Stealth as he began loudly slurping his potato shake. “You know why? Because you never give up,” he added, patting Jacob on the back. “It's like Team Moltara in the Altador Cup. They never gave up, despite overwhelming odds, and every year they've played, they've scored in the top eighteen.”

      “There were only eighteen teams until this year, Stealth.”

      “Yeah, and they were one of them!” he said, pumping his fist into the air. “And like the thunderous cheers of the fans, I'll be cheering you on, buddy.”

      Jacob's eyes lit up as a metaphorical Moltaran gas lamp glowed above his head. “Stealth, you're a genius. I'll explain later, but I need to get to the workshop!” Jacob yelled as he sprinted out of the restaurant. He bolted down to their apartment, swung open the doors to his makeshift workshop, and got to work on some blueprints.

      “The vents and ducts should be easy to make, so that's good. We'll have the steam come up through these pipes here, and finally...” Jacob said to himself while scribbling down a sketch, “...I just need one more thing.”

      He walked over to his small safe in the corner of the room, placed within the wall behind a group portrait of the Seekers from their last get-together. He deftly input the combination and was met with the sight of his set of Battledome equipment. Carefully, he removed from the safe the weapon he'd been looking for, their cool-to-warm gradient lighting up the dimly lit dwelling as they pulsated with energy: the Thunder Sticks.

      As the week went by, Stealth had been doing odd jobs around Moltara while he waited for Jacob to finish work on the menagerie's cooling system. He waved Lampwyck goodbye after tending to some of his glowing worms and then walked down to the building that would house the menagerie.

      “Hey, I'm here! You wanted to show me the machine?” Stealth called out from the foyer.

      Jacob put down his wrench and began descending the lift he'd made, taking off his harness once he reached the ground. “Perfect timing. It should be working now.”

      Jacob motioned for Stealth to follow him into the next room. The small Kacheek opened up the door and revealed a massive tankard with a pipe going down into the ground attached to it.

      “First and foremost, we have our power supply: fully sustainable geothermal energy, straight from the magma caves. The magma heats up this water tank, which boils and creates massive amounts of scalding-hot steam. Then the steam goes into this intake pipe and travels to the next room.”

      “That seems...pretty standard so far. I'm guessing the big thing you've been working on is in the next room?” Stealth asked. Jacob, naturally, shook his head “yes” excitedly, and walked with Stealth into the foyer again.

      “The room in the centre is where things get neat,” he said, leading Stealth there.

      In the centre of the room was a gigantic machine. Every now and then, there would be a roar of thunder, leaving Stealth to cover his ears.

      “I'm guessing that's why you sprung for the soundproofing. So what's this thing do?” he asked.

      “That machine is our cooling unit. See all the ducts spreading out from it? Those go to each of the rooms for the different types of Petpet, and each one is temperature-controlled to match their natural environment. And it was all thanks to you that I had the idea.”

      “What do you mean?” Stealth asked, confused.

      “The other day, you mentioned the Moltara Yooyuball Team. Do you remember a few years ago when Aldric Beign and his husband threw that big party at Moltara City Hall? It was the same day you asked Tulah Kisner if her first name was short for 'Spatula' and she almost threw you out.”

      Stealth sighed. “...I was trying to forget that, actually. But go on.”

      “Well, when they gave out the party bags, I was lucky enough to get a set of Thunder Sticks in mine. And that's what's powering this. You see, I needed something that could lower even Moltara's high temperatures, but most of my ideas didn't work out. But then I thought of the Thunder Sticks, weapons that are guaranteed to freeze what they strike...even if the target is as hot as a Magma pet. So naturally, the cold it produces must be incredibly powerful. Inside the machine, a turbine is set up with the Thunder Sticks attached to it, and each time it strikes the side of the machine, it produces frost. That super-cooled frost is then pushed into the vents, and cools down the rooms that need it.”

      “So you're able to keep specific areas super cold? Could I see?” asked Stealth.

      Jacob nodded and led Stealth to one of the far rooms: the Wintery Petpets room. They walked inside and sealed the door to the main hall behind them, and then opened a second set of doors to lead to the Wintery section proper. Stealth was amazed: there was snow and ice all over the room. Snow, in Moltara!

      “I...can't believe it,” Stealth said, jaw to the floor.

      “I showed this to one of the Mayor's representatives, and from the sound of things, it seems like they're willing to fund this venture, seeing all the good it can do for Moltara. Apparently they have designated liaisons for specialists in each type of Petpet, which will help us fill the menagerie's halls with as diverse an array of species as possible. Everything finally seems to be coming together, Stealth.”

      “I can't thank you enough for all of this, dude. This machine has brought this project so much legitimacy. It actually feels real now, like we can actually do this. No more working in the mines for a boss that's trying to pollute the planet...and instead, I get to help Petpets in need. It's almost enough to make me cry...” Stealth said as he started to tear up. Jacob patted him on the back.

      “It's really not your fault. I promise. You had no idea what the obsidian was being repurposed for. But either way, today is the start of a new day. You should be proud. Now...it's time to take the next step.”

      Weeks had passed by in the blink of an eye. Petpets from all across Neopia were not just living, but thriving, in the care of the Moltara Petpet Menagerie. Bright-eyed young Magma pets were able to see Feepits and Yullies for the first time in their lives, all while the Petpets stayed comfortably content. Unioctos and Peadackles would swim around their reinforced glass aquariums, their water kept at the perfect temperature. The looks on the faces of not just the Petpets, but the pets watching them, were genuinely worth their weight in Neopoints. Every day, Stealth would help direct his crew on Petpet care, while Jacob would maintain the machinery. And the Neopoints came flowing in soon after; not only were all of the employees well-compensated, and the Petpets given perfect care, but there was enough left over for the Menagerie to make charitable donations to other Petpet sanctuaries across Neopia. They made sure to give a bit to Meridell's as well, after hearing that some sort of Grey curse had spread across the land.

      Jacob smiled as he tightened the bolt on one of the machine panels, glancing over at Stealth and the other former quarrypets. This was Moltara. This was what it was all about, and what it represented. Monty McTaggart and his actions didn't define them; in fact, the opposite was true. It was the rejection of McTaggart's message and ways that truly exemplified what Moltara was. Safety, sustainability, steam, and smiles all around. Nothing would set Moltara back, for it was a machine in continuous forward motion.

     The End.