She walks the perimeter, one hand unconsciously lingering above the crystal implanted in her chest. The mud sucks at her feet. She passes the remains of what might have been a floating lotus pleasure-barge, glassy petals all stained and cracked now. No power sources: move on. The shields are strong with no fluctuations, though, which is good. The next wane shouldn't be until the winter solstice, but her generator is sometimes more temperamental than she'd like. She takes a shard of glass, wipes grime off the surface. 

She sighs. 

She puts the shard in her pocket, and moves on, squelch-squelch-squelch. She considers flying, but... it seems impolite, somehow. 

The bardo wants her to pay attention, not glide across it like some lah-di-dah queen. So she walks. 

There are a few trees in amid the scummy pools, bare and leafless now: at their bases, a little more loose soil, a little more mud. She sits at the base of one while she scans again. 

The interference pattern is hopelessly complex. It makes no sense whatsoever, which fortunately is exactly how much sense she prefers to make. So then it must be over this way. (Something sparks behind her eyes, and she blinks it away. Yes, thank you, you aren't needed for more than that right now. Sleep.) 

The toe of her boot hits a solid edge in the muck, and she looks down. Her engineered eyes shift seamlessly into the infrared. 

Ah. It's rather big, isn't it.

She traces out the edges in hologram. The generator is the size of a city block, vaguely oval, and entirely buried beneath about a thousand tons of mud. 

Not too difficult. She wanders over to the nearest wreck, strips out some of the wiring from the party lighting, and gets to work. 

(I need you now.)

Pink sparks play across her fingertips. 

An hour later, her dress is ruined and most of the wreck has been converted into a glassy flower as tall as she is. 

She pulls a tablet out of nothingness, and presses a button.

The flower flares, and a thousand tons of mud go away. 

She descends to the new surface hesitantly. It's cyan, pulsing, and slightly warm to the touch. She can feel the Mania boiling off it. 

It's perfect.

She settles down and starts the real work.