The night school classroom shimmers with its familiar pearlescent glow, the walls pulsing like liquid starlight. Ella, Roxana, Eileen, and Helana stand in a circle, their spirits vibrant despite their sleeping bodies back on Earth. Helana's mom, her presence warm and maternal, greets them with a radiant smile. "Hello, Mom," Ella says, her voice eager. "I hoped we'd come tonight. What's the lesson?"

"We're going on a field trip to a special place," Helana's mom replies, her eyes twinkling. "A place to explore, learn, and celebrate." Helana, her English now fluent, asks excitedly, "Where, Mom?" Her mom responds, "It's one of our favorite places. It has many names, but we call it the Ocean of Infinity. We're going to the beach."

"Awesome!" Eileen says. "How do we get there?" Helana's mom gestures to a glowing portal. "Follow me through this door. In this realm, distance doesn't exist. Think of where you want to be, and you're there." Roxana says wryly, "That's convenient." Helana giggles, "I still want a car someday. Driving looks fun."

They step through the portal, and Ella gasps. "Wow!" She spins, her bare feet sinking into warm sand. An ocean stretches before them, its waves glittering under a sun that shines alongside a star-filled sky. Palm trees sway in a salty breeze, the air alive with the scent of brine and possibility. "It's like Earth, but… magical." Roxana glances down at her pajamas. "It's amazing. But we're in sleep clothes. I want to swim."

"Easy fix," Helana says. "Close your eyes, girls. Picture your favorite swimsuit. Imagine wearing it—feel the fabric, how it fits. Focus." A strange tingle washes over them, like a breeze reshaping their forms. Eileen’s eyes snap open. "What just happened? It worked! Look, we've got suits!"

The girls laugh, twirling in their manifested swimsuits. Ella's is a bold red bikini. Roxana's is a black two-piece. Ella stares, half-amused, half-scandalized. "Roxana! A bikini? I'm telling your mom." Roxana grins. "I was curious how it'd look. It's not like I'll wear it on Earth. How's it fit?" Ella laughs. "Too good. You'd get grounded for life." Eileen giggles. "Look at the three of us, all scandalous in our bikinis. I feel naked."

Eileen tugs at her green tankini. "How'd this happen? How do thoughts become… stuff?" Helana's mom explains, "That's tonight's lesson. Joules—J-O-U-L-E-S—an Earth term for energy. Everything, in every domain, is energy. Matter, rocks, even you, are concentrated energy. On Earth, a speck of matter holds mega-joules—hundreds of millions. Here, a mountain might hold micro-joules—a millionth of a joule." She gestures to the ocean. "On Earth, an individual's thoughts are too weak to shape matter; the universe's inertia, built by countless spirits, resists change. Here, consciousness rules. Thoughts manifest instantly, organizing energy into form. That's how you created your swimsuits—your thoughts shaped the energy."

Ella’s scientific mind races. "Can we manifest on Earth?" Helana's mom nods. "Yes. But it's slower. On Earth, you manifest with your hands. You think, plan, gather materials—needle, thread, a sewing machine—and craft your thought into form. It's the same process, just more effort in an energy-dense universe." Helana tugs her mom’s arm. "Enough lesson. Can we swim? And what's this party?" Her mom smiles. "Go swim, girls. We'll talk party later."

The girls dive into the waves, the water warm and buoyant, their laughter echoing. Time feels endless here, with no physical fatigue, but eventually, mental boredom sets in. They wade back to shore, where a festive scene awaits: tables laden with food, gifts wrapped in shimmering paper, and beach umbrellas casting dappled shade. A crowd of beings—some human, some blue or green, others distinctly alien—mills about, their faces alight with joy. Helana’s eyes widen. "What's all this?"

"On Earth, you celebrate birthdays," her mom says. "You girls are turning fourteen, and Helana's development matches. So, happy birthday! This is your 14th birthday party." Eileen scans the crowd. "Who are these people? Some I know from night school, but others… I feel like I know them. Some look like me, but others aren't human." Her mom explains, "They all love you. Some are ancestors who've left Earth. Others are spirit guides you'll meet later. A few— I won't say who, to keep the surprise—are your future children. They're here to honor your special day."

Roxana drops to the sand, cross-legged, tears streaming. Ella kneels beside her, Helana joining them. "Are you okay?" Ella asks. Helana manifests a tissue, gently drying Roxana's eyes. Roxana whispers, "'In my Father's house are many mansions.' Jesus said that. I saw my grandma over there. This is one of those mansions. Is this Heaven?" Helana's mom helps Roxana stand, enveloping her in a hug. "There are countless mansions—domains as infinite as imagination. This is a small one. Heaven is everywhere, wherever spirit resides, even Earth. You're always in Heaven, even if you don't feel it."

The girls mingle, greeted by warm smiles and stories of past and future. They eat spirit food—cakes that taste of joy, fruits that spark laughter—and dance to music that blends Earthly rhythms with alien harmonies. Gifts pile up: trinkets, books, objects that hum with energy. Helana points to a figure flickering near the palms. "Who's that woman fading in and out?" Her mom answers, "A remote viewer from Earth. She found you for us. She visits while awake, so her consciousness makes her flicker. Get to know her—she's kind and will be a resource on Earth."

Ella asks Helana, "Does your mom have a name? I don't want to just say 'Hey, you.'" Helana grins. "Call her Mom. She's your mom too." Ella tests the word. "Mom, I have questions. We've been here hours—our bodies should be awake. Will our parents think we're dead?" Mom’s voice is warm. "You're my daughter now. Time here is flexible. Only seconds have passed on Earth. You'll return to the moment you left, like time travel."

Ella continues, "Can we take these gifts back?" Mom replies, "Some stay here, building your presence in this domain—a home for future visits or after your Earth life. Others, copied from Earth's internet ads, will be shipped to you. Expect packages from strangers." Ella holds up her bikini, its fabric intricate. "This swimsuit—the stitching, the fibers, it's so detailed. I didn't think of all that. How'd it manifest so perfectly?"

Mom beams. "You're a true scientist. The infinite field of existence—what we call soul, the mind of the One Infinite Creator—holds all knowledge, down to molecular structures. Your thought of the swimsuit created a resonance, vibrating with the Akashic records, which supplied the details. Without that, you'd get a blob of goo." Ella’s eyes sparkle. "Is that why scientists discover things in dreams? They tap the Akashic records?" Mom nods. "Likely. Their focus resonates with the records, revealing new knowledge. You'll learn this, Ella. You're destined for great discoveries."

The crowd thins, beings blinking out. Ella says, "Time to go. One last question: the food we ate—what happens to it?" Mom hugs her. "Spirit food nourishes spirit. No waste here, unlike dense domains. You'll remember everything, but it'll take days for your brain to process. It'll feel like a dream at first, then sharpen."

A door glows near the tree line. The girls step through, and Ella wakes in her room at 3:35 a.m., groggy. Roxana sleeps beside her on the air mattress. Ella kisses her forehead gently and drifts back to sleep.

The next afternoon, the October air crisp through the open windows, the doorbell chimes at Ella's house. Ella's mom opens the door to a UPS driver, his arms full. "Packages for Ella Patel, Roxana Park, Eileen Danvers, Helana Danvers," he says. "They're upstairs," Ella's mom replies. "I'll sign." The driver hurries back to his truck. "Girls, you've got mail!" she shouts.

The girls thunder downstairs, eyes wide at the stack of boxes. Ella's mom asks, "What's this? Did you order something? Who's Melanie Crenshaw?" Ella reaches for a box. "Let's open them and see." Her mom pulls it back. "No way. Not until we know where they're from." Eileen points to a label. "There's a note. 'Happy Birthday.'" Roxana adds, "This one has a business card. Melanie Crenshaw, MA, Licensed Professional Counselor, Life Coach, Consultant for US Naval Research Laboratory."

Ella says excitedly, "Oh! She's from the Navy program. Our summer friends must've sent birthday gifts." Her mom, skeptical, says, "I'm betting Commander Beaker's involved. Let's open them here to check they're appropriate." Ella counters, "Let's take them upstairs. Some Navy kids are pranksters—could be embarrassing stuff. We'll check for bombs." Her mom snatches the card. "Not funny, Ella. I'm calling this woman first. Go upstairs. I'll let you know."

In Ella's room, the girls sit nervously. Roxana says, "What if Mom learns she's a remote viewer? If she knows what that is, she'll freak." Helana asks, "Are these the night school gifts?" Eileen nods. "Totally. That's so cool." Roxana adds, "I hope Melanie's discreet. We can't handle another mom meltdown."

Ella's mom knocks and enters. "I spoke with Melanie. She was your instructor at the Naval Academy. The staff and students sent these—nothing inappropriate. She's visiting next week and wants to come to your birthday party. We'll open these then, with your other gifts." Roxana groans, "Worse than Christmas. More waiting." Her mom laughs as she leaves. "Life's about waiting."

At midnight, Ella sits at her desk, the house silent. She opens her diary, her mind swirling with memories.