It's past time to stop. And it's simultaneously too late. Magic is everywhere, there will be defectors against any coordination, and all the clever targeting in the world won't make there be more world.

Cor gives all his savings to a project that's trying to eat away the distance to the Moon, and he gathers supplies and tries something else.

A young human man in nothing but a pair of shorts, painted all over in broad patterns with still-wet blood and fine ash, appears on his knees in the middle of an unreasonably pretty city and falls unconscious.