Samantha woke up shortly after sunrise the next morning. She unpacked her backpack and arranged her belongings. She had two pairs of jeans, a few T-shirts, some underwear, and one bra. She also placed the picture of her parents on her bedside table. The familiar faces smiling back at her filled the room with a comforting sense of warmth and connection.

  Deciding she needed to freshen up, Samantha walked into the bathroom to clean up and was greeted by an unexpected surprise. There was no toilet paper in sight. Instead, she noticed something that resembled a bidet. The sight triggered a vivid memory from her childhood—an extravagant European vacation with her parents when she was 13. They had stayed in a luxurious hotel, one of the few times her family had splurged on such indulgence. She recalled curiously inspecting the bidet back then, though she hadn’t dared to use it at the time.

  Now, in her new space, she smiled at the memory and decided this would be an opportunity to embrace something different. Moving on, she stepped into the shower. To her delight, the water pressure was fantastic, and the temperature perfect—hot and soothing. It felt like her muscles released years of tension all at once. This was the first time in three years that she had truly enjoyed a hot shower, and for those few moments, she felt as though she had been transported to paradise. The sensation was invigorating, and the steam rising around her seemed to carry away the weight of the past.

  As she dried herself off and got dressed, Samantha couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. The apartment, though modest, was full of little surprises that made it feel like a sanctuary. She smiled to herself, ready to step into the day with a renewed sense of optimism.

  Samantha stood by the mirror, her determination reflected back at her. She mentally checked off her list of priorities for the day: a comm device to stay connected, clothes to expand her minimal wardrobe, and food to stock her modest kitchen. And beyond the immediate errands, a greater task loomed—the search for a job. Her 5,000-credit loan was shrinking, the prior 950 credits spent on essential rent and a skill upgrade. If she wanted to make it through the next month without scrambling for funds, she’d need to find a way to turn her determination into income.

  She grabbed her bag and stepped out of the apartment into the crisp morning air. The sunlight filtered through the buildings, casting sharp contrasts across the bustling streets below. Samantha felt a surge of energy as she joined the flow of pedestrians, each seemingly intent on their own mission. Her first stop was a tech shop where the displays of sleek comm devices competed for her attention. After careful consideration and a brief negotiation, Samantha chose a model that was functional and within her budget—she wasn’t ready to splurge on bells and whistles. She managed to find one for only 350 Credits.

  Next, she ventured into a clothing store filled with racks of colorful options. Samantha was deliberate, picking out practical yet stylish items that balanced her need for versatility and her desire to feel confident in her new environment. She left the store with a few new outfits, a small but meaningful upgrade to her sparse collection. That set her back 400 Credits.

  The food market was alive with activity, the air scented by fresh produce and baked goods. Samantha lingered over her choices, selecting ingredients for simple yet satisfying meals. Her focus was on essentials, but she allowed herself a small indulgence—a box of chocolates, a treat to remind herself that she deserved moments of joy amidst the practicality. The grocery shopping was the costliest at 700 Credits. She was down to 2,600 Credits now.

  With her errands complete, Samantha turned her attention to the next challenge: job hunting. At the tech shop, the salesman had patiently explained the features of her new comm device. One function immediately stood out: the ability to sync it with her neural link. Following his instructions, Samantha watched as the device seamlessly connected, instantly loading her information—contacts, preferences, and past activities. It felt almost magical.

  When she explored the job section on the device, Samantha noticed a helpful feature: positions for which she was qualified were automatically highlighted. Browsing through the list sparked excitement and curiosity. Among the options were roles Elise had mentioned yesterday—cooking, cleaning, and landscaping—but one listing caught her eye. A place called "The Past Remembered" was hiring. The job description painted a picture reminiscent of a quaint bookstore or a repository of old treasures. The pay was 1000 Credits per week, an amount that seemed ideal for her current needs.

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  Samantha decided to take her search to a nearby coffee shop, a cozy space that invited focus and reflection. She ordered a simple espresso and settled into a corner seat, the aroma of coffee mingling with the hum of quiet conversation. As she explored the details of "The Past Remembered," the prospect grew even more appealing. She clicked on the apply to job button and the screen told her that her application had been submitted and she would hear back within 24 hours. All she could do now was wait.

  As the afternoon waned, Samantha returned to her apartment, her arms full and her mind buzzing with possibilities. She placed her purchases in their new home fresh food stocked neatly in the fridge, new clothes folded into her drawers in her closet, and her comm device charging on the counter. Exhausted but satisfied, she sank onto the couch. Her mental list for the day was complete, but the real work of building her future had just begun.

  Samantha decided to meet up with Marcus at the kiosk to tell him about her day. Also she could give him her comm number now that she had one. She grabbed her comm device from the counter and set out.

  The streets were bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun as Samantha made her way toward the kiosk. The city buzzed with its usual energy, a symphony of footsteps, distant chatter, and the hum of passing vehicles. As she approached the familiar spot, she spotted Marcus leaning casually against the kiosk, his face lighting up when he saw her.

  "Hey, Samantha!" Marcus greeted warmly, pushing off from the kiosk. "You look like you’ve had a productive day."

  She smiled, holding up the comm device in her hand. "You could say that. Got one of these now, so I’m officially reachable." She handed it to him so he could input his number. "I wanted to thank you for all the advice yesterday. It really helped me navigate things."

  Marcus nodded, his expression pleased. "Glad to hear that. So, what’s the plan now?"

  Samantha recounted her day, from her careful purchases to her discovery of the job at "The Past Remembered." As she spoke, Marcus listened intently, occasionally chiming in with encouragement. When she mentioned the bookstore-like description of the job, his eyes lit up with recognition.

  "I know that place. It’s run by an old soul named Clara. She’s kind, but she doesn’t tolerate half-hearted effort. If you get the job, it’ll be a good start—and maybe even a bit of an adventure."

  Samantha chuckled, the idea of an "adventure" sparking a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Well, I’ll find out soon enough. They said I’d hear back within 24 hours."

  Marcus gave her a reassuring grin. "You’ve got this. And hey, it sounds like you’ve made good use of the credits you had. Smart moves all around."

  They lingered by the kiosk for a while longer, exchanging stories and laughter as the evening air grew cooler. For the first time in a long while, Samantha felt grounded—not just in the city she was beginning to call home, but in the steady rhythm of hope and determination that pulsed through her. By the time she made her way back to her apartment, her heart carried the warmth of companionship and the quiet anticipation of what tomorrow might bring.

  When Samantha got back to her apartment, she decided to access her status sheet from earth and see if her magic still worked. She discovered that she could open her internal status screen, but all her skills and spells were marked out. She couldn’t use them. A pang of frustration settled over her as she stared at the grayed-out icons on her status screen. It was as if a part of her identity, one she had always taken for granted, was now locked away behind an impenetrable barrier. She sighed deeply, leaning back into the creaky chair by the small desk in her apartment. The faint glow of the city's lights painted her walls in shifting patterns, a silent reminder that she was far from the world where magic had defined her.

  Questions swirled in her mind. Why was she able to access the screen at all if everything was unusable? Was this some cruel joke of the universe, or a sign that her abilities weren’t gone, just dormant? Samantha resolved to investigate further, but she knew she needed more information—and perhaps someone she could trust to help her figure it out.

  Her gaze drifted to the comm device on the desk. Marcus had been kind and resourceful, but she hesitated to bring him into this. Magic wasn’t exactly a topic she could casually drop into conversation without raising eyebrows. For now, she decided, this would remain her secret.

  She closed the status screen with a thought and rose from her chair. The weight of uncertainty pressed on her, but it was countered by a flicker of determination. If this city had taught her anything in the short time she’d been here, it was that survival required adaptability. Tomorrow, she would visit "The Past Remembered," keep moving forward, and try to piece together the mystery of her lost powers along the way.

  As Samantha prepared for bed, she whispered to herself, "One step at a time. I’ll figure this out." Outside, the city hummed its endless melody, and somewhere in its depths, the answers she sought awaited her discovery.