For young Samuel Foster, money was criminally underrated.
On its own, it was sometimes paper with a few blotches of ink and markings invisible to the naked eye. Sometimes it took on the appearance of pieces of cheap bits of metal, and in recent times, it had the ability to be stacked inside plastic cards. Those papers, circles, and cards had one thing in common, and that was the currency that kept people alive in a functioning society. A simple, yet crucial aspect of how the market worked in the long run.
There was no need to understand the more confusing aspects of finance to know that the flow of money shifted its functionality as a whole once in a while. People like Sam knew little about such things, instead focusing on what numbers showed up in front of him. The numbers he had to pay for, to be exact. Every day was a new day, but the new days let him reflect on the repetition of his life.
Work, with a tinge of procrastination on trying out new things. It summed his life up pretty well before scientific progress went "boink" in his body.
The greenhouse made him feel more collected than any other place in the campus. He took a deep breath as he remained still for a minute, forms of body aching being relieved by the presence of plants around him.
A quick rest made him feel better than before.
The greenhouse was not that far off from Dr. Rohrbach's lab. With a light backpack filled with uninteresting papers and folders, Sam walked quietly, a neutral expression hiding the chill that went down his spine briefly. Although he enjoyed talking to people and the like, examinations were not particularly the same case for him. Whatever the lab had in store, Sam would always approach it with caution, even if he decided to comply with the doctor's wishes for cooperation.
A group had formed at the lab, and the vanishing of a bottle confirmed that it was a particularly familiar group to him. He still felt nervous around the people who held unique powers, though he always smiled brightly whenever someone turned to his direction. Smiling made him less punchable, according to his sister.
"Everyone seems to be in good shape," he commented as he slid in between the people gathered together.
Captain Uni
Finetales
Plank Sinatra
