Ryan ducked as a giant, sentient pile of negative self-talk flew over his head at the Ridge-Crest Retail Colony.
Everyone in the mall was reading The Galactic Secret, a self-help book that taught aliens how to manifest their desires into physical reality. Usually, this resulted in Nebula summoning endless boxes of spicy fries from El Pluto Loco, but the tourists were accidentally manifesting their subconscious anxieties. The food court was currently being overrun by thirty-foot-tall monsters made of Social Awkwardness and Fear of Failure.
Dover, Ryan’s escalator friend, let out a mournful mechanical groan. He had manifested a literal bottomless pit beneath his first step because he felt his life lacked depth. Ryan narrowly avoided falling into the abyss by grabbing a nearby kiosk display for Psychic Sunblock.
“You have to manifest peace, Ryan!” Nebula shouted, her third arm frantically swatting away a swarm of buzzing Regrets.
Ryan closed his eyes and tried to manifest a paid day off. Instead, because he had spent six hours doing inventory, his human brain manifested ten thousand copies of the Mall’s Triple-Ironclad Return Policy. The sheer, boring weight of the fine print crushed the psychic monsters instantly.
“It worked!” Mr. Kind cheered, before Mr. Mean slapped him.
Ryan sighed as the manager handed him a broom. “Great. Now manifest me a way to sweep up a literal hole in the floor.”
Dover’s stairs began to rotate backward. “Don’t bother, Ryan. I’ve already manifested a union representative to sue myself for emotional damages.”
(This story created by a California earthquake on August 8, 2026. Magnitude of: 3.38. 31 km NNW of Covelo, CA. URL: https://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/eventpage/nc75414027)
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