"Look, look!," says Hotshot's fuzzy friend, bouncing against his leg to direct his attention. "They're BIG big."

And indeed they are: the half-dozen creatures now entering the meadow are bigger than any they've seen yet; the smallest is a big white egg with green legs poking out, half again as tall as Hotshot.

"Big!!!" he agrees, staring in fascination.

Besides the egg creature there's a shiny pink rabbit with long, sweeping ear blades; a white-sheet ghost in a pointy witch hat; an irregular mechanical biped with long, flexible arms held up off the ground; a winged angel draped in ribbons; and a yellow and black construction machine on treads. They spread out through the meadow, moving slowly and watching where they put their respective locomotion.

Nyaromon sets off hopping toward the angel, one of the nearer giants.

Of necessity Mochimon follows. Nyaromon's been getting faster.

Hotshot follows too, keeping an eye on Mochimon. If one friend outpaces the other too badly, he may need to employ the SCOOP action.

And so they arrive at the angel.

"Hail, junior warriors," it greets them.

"What's a warrior?"

"A warrior is one who trains to fight," he says, kneeling down onto one knee and folding his hands atop the other, head level with Hotshot's. "I have come here seeking warriors to train with me and my teammates."

"Train for what?," asks Nyaromon.

"The Nightmare Soldiers can show up anywhere, and their plots can be sneaky and dangerous. We must be ready for anything to counter whatever they do."

"What do they do?"

The angel pauses a moment to select an appropriate story.

"Sometimes they attack Digimon who are too weak to defend themselves, and we go defend the victims and chase off the attackers," he says. "Other times they have sneakier plots, like setting up a restaurant where the food is all fake and after you leave you're hungry again, and we have to come up with ways to find and stop them."

Hotshot has SOME SORT OF AN EMOTION about that first example. He is not sure what it is, but he can definitely tell that he has one.

"Fake food is bad. Food is very important," says Mochimon.

"Yes. That's why our work is so important, to be ready to stop the Nightmare Soldiers when they do bad things like mess with food."

Hmm. Hmmmmmmmm. Hmm.

Nyaromon is still stuck on an earlier point. "How do you get to be ready for everything?"

"We eat carefully selected food from all over the Digital World, we do carefully selected trainings to grow our bodies into perfected shapes, and we practice responding to simulated attacks. We also make sure to have jobs that can challenge ’mon of any level, so they can grow effectively without getting destroyed."

Hotshot is THINKING.

He is THINKING DIFFICULT THOUGHTS.

Pidmon keeps saying things. Words are still very mysterious. They transmit information between Digimon, but how do they work? Can you say things you haven't thought, or only things you have? And what if you think things that aren't true, and tell them to someone, and then that person thinks them too? That seems dangerous.

He has only the barest beginnings of an inkling of a clue how he might communicate these important insights, but they do seem very important. So he looks at Pidmon, and summons up all the articulation at his disposal, and asks, "Are you wrong?"

For a moment, Pidmon is speechless.

"I pray that I understand Lord Seraphimon correctly, for he is never wrong."

...

This is not at all a satisfying answer, but he can't figure out how to follow up effectively.

While the friends are puzzling over how to respond to this, the mobile construction equipment rolls up on its treads, standing half again as tall as the angel's full height. 

"Featherhead, you old rascal! Are you filling these young impressionable minds with your wild tales of battle glories, when they could be learning to solve practical problems like 'how do we build housing for 100 new digi-babies' or 'who wants a forklift ride'?"

"What's a forklift ride?" he asks, perking up intriguedly.

(Pidmon lets out an exasperated sigh, stands, and strides off to a new group of babies.)

"Why, I'm delighted you asked! A forklift ride goes like this - you climb onto my right hand here, my forklift. My pneumatic arm lifts you up above my head, safe and stable as you please. Then we go for a roll around this meadow on these treads of mine, so you can see it from up above!"

"Can we?," Mochimon asks Hotshot.

"Yeah!!!"

Then up they go! Higher and higher, until they can see over the closest trees into the surrounding landscape, hills and plains and forests and mountains.

They are UP SO HIGH. There are SO MANY THINGS. A whole vast intriguing world filled with THINGS. And someday maybe Hotshot will BITE THEM.

Someday!

Kenkimon begins to roll across the field. He travels slower than Elecmon, perhaps to find safe places to drive his treads, but what the ride lacks in speed it makes up in altitude. Lifted over Kenkimon's head they can see the whole field and all the Digimon in it - the other blobs, Elecmon, the other five visitors making their social rounds.

Nyaromon peers carefully over the edge; Mochimon closes its eyes and sways gently in the wind.

Wooooooow.

Hotshot looks around in all directions, leaning forward or sideways for a better angle on this or that marvel. Elecmon looks so tiny from up here! Elecmon used to look SO BIG and is still pretty respectably medium-sized from a level vantage! And look at all those blobs! There are so many blobs! And, and the visitors! The visitors are BIG and INTERESTING! If Hotshot hangs out with them enough will he get that big too??? MARVELOUS.

And all too soon, the ride must come to an end. Kenkimon lowers the three gently back to the ground.

"One thing I love about my work is seeing the world from up above like that, every day. Another is using that knowledge to arrange things better for all the smaller ’mon.

"You want to learn to solve practical problems, to grow into a form that can really make a change, talk to me or Bitmon over there." (He gestures with his other, scoop-shaped hand, at the pink rabbit visitor.)

And he trundles off to meet other ’mon.

The little fuzzy blob hops in a circle, to see all the visitors. Most are chatting with other blobs. Pidmon seems to be arguing with the ’mon in the hat.

“What are they?,” it asks.

That's a very good question and Hotshot is somewhat stumped by it. He's not even entirely sure he knows what it's asking. They're Digimon, and they're big, but is "big Digimon" what they are or is it just some things they happen to be? When you get right down to it, what does it mean to be something?

But as confused as he is about the question, he can still guess how they might get closer to an answer!

"Let's find out," he says, and treks toward the least occupied-looking giant.

That would be the egg person! It seems to have just finished up one conversation, and now be padding across the field.

Hotshot plonks himself on the ground a good ways in front of it.

"Hi! What're you?"

"I am a chef," it says, in a slightly buzzy voice.

(Hotshot's friends plonk down with him.)

"Tell me, do you know what is best in life?"

He considers this question, then says, "I think it's either biting or friendship."

"Close enough!," it says, "cookie for you. It's FOOD!"

From its shadowed face it tosses some sort of tan-colored disc at Hotshot.

He bites it!

Flavor bursts across his mouth, fluffy crumbly soaring over a thick hot river of sweetness. A feeling of security and trust buoys him aloft.

...And then he's back in the meadow, and the flavor is a flavor.

!!!

WHAT A GOOD THING.

His bite only caught half the cookie; he attempts to distribute the rest to his friends, although much of it is instead getting distributed to the ground.

Then Nyaromon will bite the more solid parts while Mochimon gloms up the more crumbled parts.

"Food is what sustains us! Food is how we grow and learn! With the right food, you can cook up any experience, any skill you can imagine." Its voice wavers with emotion.

"Wow! You mean you made that?"

"Yees," it replies. "The chocolate chip cookie is one of the simpler recipes. I could teach it in perhaps a day, once we've gathered the ingredients, if you pay good attention."

"Where do ingredients come from? Are they also food? Why make different food out of your food instead of eating the food?"

“Ingredients are all around us! We live in an edible world and you can cook with almost anything. Even you or me, but I wouldn't recommend it, hoo-hee.

“And yes, you could eat them alone. Some taste good. Some are too bitter, or too bland. Some change you in bad ways.

“With cooking, you can control what parts express themselves. The lift of wheat without the blandness. The warmth of mocha without the bitterness. The peace of sugar without the complacency. Custom flavors, custom powers.”

Hotshot contemplates this revelation.

Thinking... thinking...

...the big guy just said it would be a bad idea to bite him—well, a bad idea to cook with him, but biting him is probably a bad idea too for similar reasons—but now that the subject has been raised, Hotshot wants to bite him.

He has a tried and true solution to this problem!

He shakes himself out of his contemplative silence and hops forward and licks Digitamamon's shell.

Tastes like licking well-seasoned scrambled eggs from a spoon, if the spoon was made of bone and the eggs were night-black.

Digitamamon takes a step back, saying "Under the circumstances, I'll take that as a gesture of fondness."

"Well, I wasn't going to bite you," he explains, if you can call that an explanation.

"What about fake food?," asks Mochimon, remembering Pidmon's example of an evil plot.

"I guess you could do that. Waste of good ingredients though."

Hotshot is very intrigued by the possibilities implied by the concept of cooking. He's still sort of hazy on how exactly you're supposed to put this theory into practice, but he can't quite figure out how to formulate the question. He sits back and thinks hard again.

Hearing no further questions, he closes with "Come to me if you wish to learn cooking," and begins to waddle off.

"Do we want to learn cooking?" he wonders.

"I don't know," Mochimon replies. "It was a good cookie."

"I don't think we really learned what he was, though. Maybe we should ask another one."

Nyaromon starts hopping in a direction.

Hotshot follows!

As does Mochimon.

Elecmon is standing off to the edge with the cat creature.

"What are they?"

"Well since you hatched you've learned more and gotten bigger?"

Full-body nod.

"Our guests today are some ’mon who hatched earlier, so they've had time to learn even more and get even bigger."

"Wooooow," says Hotshot. "You mean we could get that big??"

"You could! If you travel a lot, and eat lots of different things, and train a lot, and stay safe, you could get as big as Kenkimon there."

"I wanna get that big!!" he exclaims. "I wanna get bigger than that. I wanna get SO BIG."

"If that's what you want," the cat 'mon starts.

    Elecmon cuts in with, "They just hatched."

"Our guests today," she continues, "are here to take apprentices."

"Yesterday, Calimon."

    "That means traveling with them, helping with their work, following their instructions."

"Fighting beside them, fighting ’mon who could delete them."

"Delete sounds... bad?"

"Yes! Delete is very bad! Deleting somemon means hurting them so badly that they fall apart completely and then they're gone!

"We don't allow that in here, but out there some ’mon will try it, and I want you to be ready to defend yourselves before you leave."

Well that doesn't sound good. That doesn't sound good at all.

Thus interrupted, Calimon turns to address Elecmon. "Has any cohort ever been ‘ready to defend themselves’ on their own? After a week, after a month?" She raises a paw to ask, "What's the one commonality among ’mon who've stopped by after at least two years?"

    "They're all still alive?", he asks, a hopeful lift in his voice.

"They all made powerful friends."

"All the lessons we can teach, all the practice they can practice? Won't save them if they don't have someone to protect them while they learn to apply it." She punctuates this with a paw-chop. "The apprenticeship program is their surest chance at finding such a mentor. I thought you understood that already."

"Calimon. O best of protectors and most prudent among friends," he starts, "I agreed to try it. I never thought you'd brave bringing the candidates here so soon after the hatching. Can't we let the babies grow into themselves before sending them away?"

(Nyaromon, overwhelmed by words, has curled up in a fuzzy little pile. Mochimon is twisting to follow along as best it can, but showing increasing concern.)

"Most of them will," she says. "But we can only invite a few mentorship candidates at once. That means we need an early start to give the most babies a good chance at adoption. So if any of these candidates," sweeping a paw towards the six giants, "clicks with one of the babies, then we let them go. This might be their best chance."

"... Sweetheart," she adds, after a pause. "Most wise and caring."

"I love how you always keep their futures in mind," Elecmon responds, fur smoothing back down. "If they want to go, I'll let them go. But when they do I want to check that they understand what it means."

"Then I'll personally make sure none of them leave without your interview," she concludes, warmly. "I love how you watch that the babies can thrive, not just fight and eat."

The two creatures share a quick hug.

This looks like a really important conversation and Hotshot is trying very hard to follow it but also it is confusing and Nyaromon needs snuggles so mostly he is hugging the fuzzy friend and hoping that if he waits they'll start making sense.

Nyaromon leans into the snuggle, rubbing its fur up on Hotshot's warm scales.

Mochimon mulls this over. After a minute, it hazards "So they're called mentor ships and that means they carry us around if we do what they say?"

Elecmon turns to his forgotten audience, dropping back onto all fours.

"Sort of! Those big Digimon are here to meet little ’mon and see if they make any friends, and if any of those friends want to go study with them to learn how to do what they do."

"What they do like be big?"

"Yeah, part of it is helping you grow up big and strong, with a form that works for you. And in the meantime they're supposed to keep you safe - you'll still get in fights, but they'll protect you and try to make sure you don't get permanently hurt.

"When you follow somemon that way, where they teach you and keep you safe while you help them and do what they say, we call that ’mon your mentor."

Thoughtful nod.

A loud slam cuts through the background commotion, followed by three small explosions.

Calimon's leapt into the air before Elecmon has even turned to find the source.

Hotshot makes a surprised noise and turns to look, wrapping his arms protectively around Nyaromon.

One of the giants is tumbling sheet-over-hat through the air, dramatically singed.

Pidmon, staff aglow, is rising to meet it. But Calimon's next leap becomes a kick, knocking him tumbling too.

Whoa! They're fighting! Hotshot stares in fascination.

Pidmon rights himself in the air. "Leave the criminal to me!," he calls, then resumes his heading for the other 'mon.

"I don't care," she responds, "you will not fight here."

This time she springs into a proper pounce, claws out.

Elecmon, racing past Hotshot, begins to glow. "Elecmon! Digivolve to..."

"Unarumon!" By the time he arrives below the falling 'mon, he's a purple-and-white wolf as large as Calimon and Pidmon together.

Whoa! Elecmon got so big!

He did! He's big enough to catch the falling ’mon on his back and lower it safely to the ground.

Pidmon can't fly with a cat tangled in his wings. It's over.

"You don't understand!," he yells, awkwardly pinned to the ground. "He's going to kill them!"

"If you have a complaint you will use your words." She kicks his staff away and begins methodically dismantling his wings.

"Woooow," says Hotshot, gazing raptly at this spectacle.

Unarumon has a brief chat with the hat ’mon, then reverts back to Elecmon.

Pidmon also shrinks, briefly becoming a bolt of light, then merging with his staff to become

an uninjured Piyomon. (A little smaller than Hotshot or Calimon.)

Hotshot glances hesitantly down at the fuzzy friend in his arms, then curiously up at the site of the commotion.

Nyaromon's up and bouncing-ready to go check it out.

What a good fuzzy friend.

Hotshot bounds up to Elecmon and observes, "You got in a fight!"

"I did! It's very good that we have Calimon here to protect us. Soulmon here assures me that it was all a misunderstanding and everything should be fine now.

"I'm gonna follow up with these two and see if I can figure out what went wrong, so Calimon can get back to keeping watch. Would you three like to keep Soulmon company while I check on Piyomon?"

"Okay!" He gives Elecmon a friendly nosebop, then turns to Soulmon. "Why'd the big wings mon hit you?"

"I was describing my life extension research. I believe he took offense. I confess that a few of my techniques touch on common taboos, but if you want to fix what nomon's fixing you have to try what nomon's trying, that's what I say."

"What's life extension?"

"Life extension is keeping ’mon around for longer, by making them less likely to be deleted. It's difficult research, but very important, since Digimon don't want to be deleted."

"Oh! That's good. But then why did it make Pidmon want to fight you?"

"My most promising new technique involves carefully killing 'mon only a little bit, so that their Digi-Cores learn to recognize deletion and change into a better-protected form. I think perhaps Piyomon doesn't understand the difference between partly dead and all the way dead."

"Hmm," says Hotshot. "I guess that makes sense. Death is pretty scary."