Beneath a blanket of stars, the ethereal light of a crescent moon illuminated bubbles of essence. They were a manifestation of the world’s chi—a confirmation that our efforts this night hadn’t been in vain. And as I gazed out at the incandescent spheres, barely able to register just how many there were, I focused my awareness on what I wanted from the ship.

  A portion was used to picture the basic additions, like an anchor, beds, and my beloved porcelain throne. I directed a larger chunk on the fiction-inspired propulsion system. Finally, I used the lion’s share of my will on what the boat should provide; it was a fishing vessel, and as long as it facilitated good times on the water, nothing else mattered. Hopefully that last stipulation was enough to override any unsuitable inclusions.

  All of this snapped into place in the blink of a cultivator’s eye. Multiple projects split between my two partitions. Their differing strengths of will and intention meant that only those with a firm resolve and a potent core could participate. But I was surrounded by such people; I grinned, already knowing they’d join me.

  Maria was first. Because of her connection to me, she best comprehended the purpose and design of my fantastical propulsion system. Slimes came next, adding his strength to Maria’s. Though only a drop by comparison, I was still appreciative of his efforts. It all helped.

  Then Cinnamon and Borks arrived. I thought I would need to instruct them, but they surprised me, both snorting at my assumption before latching themselves onto the part of me focused on facilitating good times. They already knew where they were best suited, and as their cores joined with mine, I was almost knocked over. Contrary to their base forms, Borks seemed like a river of white in my mind’s eye, Cinnamon a landslide of black. They combined into a single force, and together, we bent the transformation to our desire.

  Barry came next, the muscle-man’s pride leading the charge and dragging his will along with it. When he felt what we were doing, he hesitated a moment. His ego wanted to latch onto the largest project, but despite not being directly connected to me, Barry had the insight to know that he wasn’t needed there.

  I expected him to resign himself to a lesser task. Instead, he changed his frame of mind, telling himself that he could be the lone man leading the charge on the boat’s aesthetic features. I’d have laughed if I had the ability, but too much rested on this moment.

  Only Paul and Bonnie were left, and though the former’s core was too weak by far, the latter was a possibility. Seconds passed, and the window for her to join started to close. I had hoped she’d do so, but it wasn’t necessary. Perhaps it was too soon for her to…

  Never mind.

  Her resolve came barrelling through like a charging bull. By the feel of it, she’d been considering the choice of where to go for quite some time. Her will, though strong following her breakthrough, lacked finesse—it was a damned jackhammer. Said power tool veered off toward the propulsion system that Maria and Slimes were focused on, and I fought down a pang of anxiety.

  Had she chosen the wrong one by accident? Her confidence told me otherwise, declaring that she knew exactly what she was doing… despite heading toward something she couldn’t hope to comprehend. It didn’t make sense.

  I could cut her off if needed, but that could shake the foundation of what we were trying to build. If my will slipped, so too would everyone else’s. The whole damn thing could collapse. Or explode. Who knew what would happen when something so complex unraveled?

  As clear as a winter sunrise, I saw the only path forward. All I could do was focus on my own intentions. Even if what she wanted was anathema to the rest of us, we would just have to drown her out. I braced myself, preparing to resist whatever she brought our way. Sensing my action, everyone followed suit, mentally forming a shieldwall.

  And then she arrived… only for her will to flit around like a curious bird. Bonnie inspected our work, raising an imaginary eyebrow as she found us bracing against nothing.

  What are you all doing? she seemed to ask.

  I had been wrong. Bonnie’s will wasn’t a jackhammer, ready to demolish with reckless abandon. She’d taken the time to taste the different intentions and assess their suitability. The adventurous soul had embraced her nature, and, using it as a lens through which to measure compatibility, she’d decided on a path—the same as Maria and Slimes. Bonnie wanted to help create the propulsion system.

  In retrospect, her choosing the most-daring project wasn’t surprising—but her next actions were.

  She looked at my plans, nodded to herself, then flipped the whole damned table. Papers flew and lines blurred, but before I could lose hold of the task, new schematics appeared. She didn’t just build upon my previous plans—she’d rewritten them entirely. I checked them over, and what started as a cursory glance became a careful study. I… wasn’t sure if it was brilliant or stupid. But one thing was certain: it would be fun.

  Though that excitement spurred me on as I dove headfirst into its creation, it couldn’t last forever. Bonnie had taken what was essentially a through-pipe and turned it into something I could only compare to… yeah, never mind. This was some fantasy-land bullshit, and with that territory came complexity.

  No matter how much will I poured out, each drop disappeared like rain into parched sand. I swiftly realized that an impasse was approaching. I could continue on the current path—ensure the creation of Bonnie’s brainchild was a success—or I could guarantee that the ship itself was transformed by the System.

  I kept these thoughts to myself, not wanting to discourage Bonnie before a decision was made. The ultimatum hadn’t yet arrived; there was still time for me to pull off a miracle. As I slowly pulled back from the additional features, the others instinctively picked up the slack, their chi patching over any gaps I left behind.

  And not a moment too soon. The world had finished collecting its power. All at once, the orbs blurred forward into the wooden fibers of the ship, making the entire vessel glow with the same incandescent light. I ‘watched’ it with my senses, each little ball of essence vibrating now that they were finally being put to use.

  The deck beneath our feet shifted and the boat expanded. I had to squeeze my eyes shut against the brightness that became all-consuming. Even with my physical senses overwhelmed, I never once eased up with my will, my two partitions both pushed to their limit. Like a concrete slap built upon a fault line, no matter how much the world shook, I ensured the foundation remained whole. Using me for support, my pals were similarly unflappable, each of us mentally screaming what we wanted into the void. But as strong as our resolve was, the transformation just... kept going.

  The impasse had arrived.

  As much as I wanted Bonnie’s maniacal method of propulsion, I couldn’t sacrifice the boat’s transformation. It was a purely pragmatic decision; such a creation would tear an unenhanced vessel to pieces.

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  With no small amount of reluctance, I started channeling my will back toward the ship, letting them all know why I was doing it. Bonnie, rather than despair, dismissed my concerns out-of-hand. Her adventurous soul cared not what I did; she was going to continue working on her creation no matter what I told her.

  Laughing in my mind, I let her do what she wanted. It wasn’t like I could convince her otherwise.

  Something appeared on the periphery of my comprehension. It was right there, but with how stretched-thin I was, understanding was out of reach. Suddenly, the source of my confusion arrived, hitting me so hard that it felt almost physical.

  And then their will joined with mine, a backpack-sized mass of condensed chi ready to be put to use. They were authoritative. Demanding. So sure of themself as they paired with my main partition—the one focused on the boat. Before I could return my now-free attention to Bonnie’s engine, she yanked me over, her desire for novelty and new experiences drawing me in.

  ***

  Adults are super silly sometimes, Paul thought as he sailed through the air and latched onto Fischer’s back.

  If asked, he wouldn’t have been able to say exactly why he’d chosen to physically latch himself onto the man. Paul had some guesses, though, like how fun it was to leap with his new body. Or how wibbly wobbly the ship’s deck was right now. Yep! Those reasons were some good reasons, alright!

  But the most important one was that Fischer needed help. Not only Fischer, actually! They all needed help! Paul had waited as long as possible, knowing that they were missing something, but trusting them to work it out. That’s what adults did, wasn’t it? They fixed things.

  As seconds threatened to become a minute, however, the fixing never came. And time had been moving like the molasses his dad made rum from, which let Paul’s imagination run wild.

  His favorite theories all involved deserts—what if it was taking forever because they were trying to make the boat edible and delicious? Just before he’d launched himself at Fischer, the traveler had finally broadcast what was troubling him.

  Fischer was like… super strong. Even stronger than Paul’s dad, not that Paul would ever admit as much. Despite Fischer’s strength, though, he wasn’t perfect. Fischer couldn’t do everything himself. Take his mom’s baking, for example. There was no world in which Fischer could make better cakes. Paul shook his head. He was getting distracted by sweets again.

  As strong as Fischer was, he was only one person—and if Paul’s mum could be believed, the man had little goblins living in his brain that sometimes made decisions for him. Paul was too smart and wise and grown-up to take those words literally, but that didn’t make it any less true. Fischer really did seem to have little green creatures making his choices for him on occasion.

  What the man needed was help from someone with a good head on his shoulders. Assistance from a nearby cultivator that hadn’t yet had a breakthrough, their brain able to take in everything at face value. What Fischer needed, Paul decided, was someone like him.

  Paul’s entire body—from his short hair to his little toes—screamed that he could do it. His core, though muted compared to the others, vibrated in agreement.

  Grinning to himself and holding onto Fischer’s back like a head louse, Paul assessed the image Fischer had been imagining. It was… okay. Super boring, though. No wonder Fischer needed help.

  Instead of the bland design, Paul pictured something super cool. Aaaand was immediately denied. He furrowed his brow, annoyed that the boat didn’t want to be shaped like Pistachio. Next he tried Claws, Snips, and even Fischer. All were rejected; they weren’t right.

  Something tugged at his core, and Paul’s pinched eyebrows flew higher than Ellis’s did earlier. It... it was the ship! The silly thing was talking to him! No, that wasn’t right, because it wasn’t saying anything at all. It was... drawing? But not an actual picture, more a—

  Paul shook his head again. It didn’t matter. The boat was communicating!

  A vague outline showed up in his mind. Like a see-through cloud, it was the suggestion of a shape, and it shifted non-stop. Paul pouted, not at all liking the way it wouldn’t pick a form and stick with it. Stop that! he tried thinking. It didn’t listen.

  But something did answer. Paul’s own core reached out toward him, slim tendrils of chi escaping their prison. As they passed through his torso, their intent—his intent—radiated out. For only a moment, Paul was granted a glimpse into an alternative version of himself. Practical. Calculating. Decisive. Ready to sweep in and make the choices that others…

  Paul’s thoughts trailed off as the window closed once more. He shook his head. What the frack was that?

  Before he could consider it overmuch, the task at hand materialized in his vision once more, the damned ship still refusing to choose a shape. Reaching for the chi leaking from his core—and both relieved and slightly disappointed that he didn’t again see that other version of himself—Paul gave the ship a good scowl. It didn’t work, of course, but it made him feel a bit better.

  His core urged him to try something else, to latch onto the memory of that other him.

  Fine, Paul thought. You want decisiveness? I’ll give you decisiveness!

  He pictured Pistachio again—because Pistachio was still really cool—and the cloudy outline actually listened. It moved, stretching to conform to what he envisioned, then snapped back into blurry nothingness.

  Oh-ho-ho! Paul thought, trying—and succeeding, if you asked him—to sound like a wise old man. What have we here?

  That had just about worked. He’d almost created a lobster ship.

  It had snapped back after stretching too far. So what would happen if his changes were smaller? He focused on making adjustments to the ship, choosing cool things that didn’t alter the outline too much. Fischer had to have a cool ship.

  What if I just... yes! A touch of red here? Ooooh, and metal there! Hmm, but it still has to be floaty, so lots of wood… Okay, maybe a bit more metal.

  Images started flashing in his mind. At first, he assumed they were from the other him, but then he realized their true source: Fischer. They were objects from his past life. A smile spread across Paul’s face as he applied their appearance to the existing pieces. It was coming together nicely.

  Wait, if the ship is mostly wood, does that mean I can’t use fire?

  …

  A few flames couldn’t hurt… right?

  Bit by bit, Paul adjusted the components, each slowly becoming a cohesive part of something greater. He was even able to alter the appearance of the thing Bonnie was working on. She held him back at first, but acquiesced when she felt his intention to change only the aesthetics.

  Originally, he’d leaped in because they needed the help, but the more he designed, the more he fell in love with the process. It was like building castles in the sand, but, like, a bajillion times better—the sandcastles he made couldn’t spew fire.

  When he put the very last piece in place, a door befitting the rest of the ship, it happened. The blurred lines of the boat snapped into place, forming as if they’d always been there. Paul wanted to open his eyes, wanted to gaze out at his creation, but his everything wasn’t working. As he pictured the super cool ship he’d made for Fischer, the last thing he felt was the sensation of falling.

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