It's late at night, and Susie's still flipping through her textbook. She has Originium Arts Theory tomorrow, and this is her final chance to review. Her workbook lays open to the side, strewn with soundly proofed notes of all the bits she had no idea of (or the wrong idea). <i>It's time you slept...</i> Her falling eyelids give her a nudge. And so, just before going to bed, she stuffs everything she needs for the exam tomorrow in her bag, peeks over her shoulder, and flips her daily scheduler open. What she'll be up to each day, sorted neat and tidily in here—a habit she picked up from working at Quercus's. Procurement, punctual opening and closing, running inventory, cleaning the shop... With so much to do—none of it trivial—on top of frequent and ever-urgent surprises, having everything she needed written out gave her no small relief. Her schedule for tomorrow runs as follows: Morning (7:30-9:30) Exam time! (9:30-10:30) TA for Intro to Originium Arts Theory Noon (12:00-13:00) Help out at hairdressers Afternoon (14:00-16:00) Practice a bit at training grounds/tidy up plant nursery for Lena (ask first, might not be today) (17:00-18:00) Help out at hairdressers (18:00-21:00) Help out at bar (21:00-22:00) Reading break Susie stares and thinks. After a moment, she shortens her shift at the bar and adds a new item below it: (20:00-?) Have a talk with Theory tutor about future With how responsible Rhodes Island's tutors and operators all are, she's not one bit worried she'll fail the exam. But as for what's in store for her from now on? That's definitely a conversation her tutor can help with. These days, she's gotten the static that once exploded out of her a little under control, and—though hardly anyone notices—she's already started using little tricks from her casting course in her hairdressing. A tactical dab of electrical charge here and there for even swifter, cleaner haircuts. And all, so that one day— Susie leafs forward through the scheduler a little, and stops. Out in the midst of all these untouched pages, there's one event, a single note that's been written long, long in advance: Send money to Mum Mum keeps telling her she doesn't need to do anything of the sort, but she can't help wanting to send something back home. And this is about when Mum'd always send her money too—somehow, it's become their unofficial way of letting each other know they're still well. Susie flips the scheduler back to tomorrow, and gives the freshly filled-in cells a few strokes of her fingers. She's a grounded person. She knows that whatever far-flung future she's imagining, it's not her life in the here and now. She likes to give each book a proper read, do each job well, catch each opportunity when it comes. Imagination's a volatile thing, after all... Still, her current everyday, her life aboard Rhodes Island, is one that so clearly rewards her for her efforts, and isn't that precisely what she's wanted all along? So she corrects that item a little: (20:00-?) Have a talk with Theory tutor about upcoming course <i>That's</i> what she should be asking. Time to turn in now... Her heavy eyes tug at her lids, desperate to pull down the shutters. So she heeds, puts away the scheduler, turns off the lights, and tries to calm her nervously fluttering heart. She'll get good marks tomorrow. It's in her power. Tomorrow's still a busy day, and tomorrow will reward her for it. ...... Susie falls into deep, warm, contented slumber.