Ships leave at the crack of dawn, so Paul does too: tumbling out of bed in the dark and fumbling for the light switch for 30 seconds before giving up and snapping his fingers. A small, cool flame appeared above each digit, guiding his way as he clothed, brushed his teeth, and grabbed a protein bar on his way out the door.

  At the docks, he unloaded his car trunk quickly, setting up his small tent near the docks, but not too near any well-trafficked pathways. By the time anyone clocked in, Paul was set up, smiling, and ready to sell his wares.

  **? · ? . ° .**

  The first customer was a small blue elf with a bright red aura of alarm. Paul watched carefully for a few seconds before approaching him.

  "You seem lost, friend. Can I help you with anything?"

  "I need... I need the ticket office urgently."

  "It's right over there. However if you need something...stronger than a ticket, my shop is right here."

  "I need...bravery."

  "Temporary or permanent?"

  The elf looked at him, clearly startled. "Per-permanent? Is that an option?"

  "Well, the temporary one is more guaranteed--" Paul led him to the tent, pulling a small green bottle from a curio cabinet. "Take it 15 minutes in advance and it'll last for 3 hours. Of course, the placebo effect on this is amazing, so you can stretch it to 0 minutes before and you'll feel brave all day. But if it's something truly difficult, I recommend abiding by that 15 minute rule. 30 gold coins, 30-day money-back guarantee with the use of a proof potion."

  "Yes, yes but...you said there was a permanent option?"

  "Ah, yes." Paul pulled out a small red book, the shiny paper cover embossed with gold lettering: THE LITTLE BOOK OF BRAVERY. "A fantastic guided journal. Can take anywhere from 3 days to 30 years. But customers tell me you learn a lot about yourself in the process either way. 5 silver coins, no money-back guarantee."

  The elf's face fell. "You really had me going there, you charlatan." One large platinum coin dropped on the table.

  "I'll just get you your change then, for the..." Paul paused hopefully.

  "The potions, obviously," the elf spat.

  Paul bundled up the green bottle quickly and poured some purple liquid into an ornate glass cup. "I assume you'll be taking this within 3 months?"

  "Yes."

  "Then this is for the 30-day return monitoring. If there's a manufacturer error, you'll be debited immediately--" he passed the glass to the elf who drank it quickly, pocketed his change, and ran towards the ticketing office.

  **? · ? . ° .**

  The second customer was a fiery magenta aura seemingly floating in the air. Paul ignored it at first-- it's never good to sell to invisible entities. But the cloud floated to his tent directly and an invisible puff of air hit the little brass bell on his table.

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  "How may I help you?" Paul asked uncertainly.

  my progeny. i must speak to them. their selfishness will destroy everything i built for our descendents. The voice materialized softly in his mind, the ambient noises of the dock still the only sound echoing in his ears.

  "Well for one platinum coin, you can write a message in blood on their bathroom mirror? It'll last for a week, no matter how much they clean it."

  that seems expensive

  "The blood-on-mirror-with-your-mind potion is quite cheap. The problem is that it requires a human mind & a human blood. Unless you've got a corporeal form, you'll need a converter potion to direct some of your life force to building the necessary parts of a human body. Obviously that's....quite expensive."

  hm

  "Of course, there is a cheaper option--" Paul set a small blue book on the table, the bright magenta title glinting in the sun: YOUR DEAD AUNT MILDRED DEMANDS YOU FINISH THIS BOOK OTHERWISE SHE WILL KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP. "Just 7 silver coins and as you can see, the title is customizable up to 100 characters. It's the first in our series of guided journals building empathy and deconstructing privilege."

  There was a brief silence.

  privilege? that's hogwash. i worked VERY hard--

  "You worked very hard," Paul agreed, "and they have the privilege to benefit from that work. You've been very kind to them."

  hm. i don't know what lessons you've peppered in there. i'm not putting my name on that. A single platinum coin clattered on the table. i'll write my own message please.

  "Very well," Paul rolled up the two potions carefully in bubble wrap and poured a purple potion into the same glass cup as before. "I take it you understand how this works," he smiled.

  3 months, manufacturer's warranty. some things never change. thank you.

  "Thank you! Come back any time. Oh and before you go-- any feedback on the journal series option?"

  privilege is a stupid word. teach them something better.

  "How does 'become a better citizen' sound?"

  more like... long-term thinking. leaving the world better than you found it. legacy! that kind of thing.

  "Great suggestions, I'll keep that in mind, thank you." As the cloud disappeared, Paul pulled out a thick, black, spiral bound notebook and scribbled away. "Long term thinking. That's a good one. Definitely avoid the word privilege..."

  He was so lost in thought, he didn't hear the bell ring.

  "Paul?"

  He looked up. "Oh, Danielle! How was school today?"

  A tall, spindly gnome stood before him with a calm, blue aura, her hands tugging on thick backpack straps. "S'okay. Did you sell any today?"

  "I made quite a bit of money," Paul replied. "But didn't help anyone, unfortunately. And they really needed it."

  "Emergency auras?"

  "Stop-sign red if anything, I'm telling you! How's the test going?"

  Danielle dug around in her backpack, eventually producing a thick green book nearly breaking at the seams. A silver title whispered: so you want to get good grades.

  "Jim's still cheating you on production quality," she said.

  "Well, I need higher order numbers before I can negotiate on that."

  "But the contents are good. I've gotten As on my last three math tests."

  "You're kidding! That's great! I'm proud of you, kiddo. That's not just the book-- that's 100% your hard work."

  The corner of the gnome's mouth twitched in a shy smile. "Oh, I tried out what you said...kinda?"

  "Kinda?"

  "Well, I showed it to some of my friends who were failing... and they hated it."

  Paul let his head drop into his hands. "Oh no."

  "But I don't think..." Danielle paused, biting her lower lip.

  "Do you need another copy of The Little Book of Bravery?" Paul joked.

  "Have you ever tried selling to people without emergency auras?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, my friends who were failing...they said it was too much work. They're too behind, they don't have time to start from scratch. But my friends who were struggling like me--not failing but not doing great-- they love it."

  Paul stared at her in silence.

  "I have money to buy 3 more copies from you. For my friends."

  More silence.

  "Paul?"

  "You mean--" his voice nearly broke. "Someone wants their own copy?"

  "Three someones!"

  Paul stood up suddenly, pulling books from under his desk and muttering to himself. "Okay, I need the nice wrapping cloth. Where's the dinosaur wrap... and we can do a discount, we'll call it an early bird discount--" he paused suddenly and looked up at her. "You said not-failing."

  "Yes."

  Behind her, the dock was teeming with life. Some red and pink auras, sure, but a lot of other colors too. Muted oranges, bright purples, meditative blues and sparkling greens.

  "Well done, Dani. I think our target market just got a lot bigger."