He chooses.
The pen taps once on LATE (4:30) like a gavel, then inks a square around it. He adds a lean arrow: Priya shift. Under EARLY he writes hold and draws a fence he doesn't intend to climb.
Rain graduates from dots to a fine, insistent mesh. They cut across the plaza under a tree line that pretends to be an umbrella, then slip into the library where weather forgets your name. The workroom is a glass box inside the bigger hush—a few tables, a printer asleep, a whiteboard with ghost equations from someone else's night.
"No re-entry," Max says, palming the door soft-closed like it was born polite.
"No re-entry," Jace echoes. He drops the envelope into his inner pocket's pocket, then lays out the wallet notebook, a campus map folded to the C109 block, and his laptop. He drags a chair with exactly enough sound to be human and no more.
"Handout first," he says. "Then alarms."
Max adopts perimeter again—chair angled so his eyes can watch the hallway without becoming a hallway.
Jace opens a blank document and gives it a title with backbone: Budget Bootcamp — One Page (Rails Edition). He sets the font to something that looks like it cares, not like it wants attention. He writes, talks it as he writes because sound convinces his hands to be sure.
What This Is: 60 minutes on rails—practical rules that pay you twice (once in money, once in calm).What This Isn't: Hustle promises, magic apps, "just skip lattes."
He draws a line, then bullets that don't meander:
1) Rails before luck
Pick lanes: transfer-only, public spaces, receipts-or-no-go.
Cap thinking: decide a daily ceiling before you move; it keeps wins from turning into noise.
Visible hands: act like cameras are grading you.
2) Variety keeps heat low
Rotate: time / register / clerk / category.
Cool-down: stop when the night says stop (write it down; obey it).
3) Paper before mouth
Receipts: photo → file → label (date, amount, category).
Flags: tape on envelopes/sleeves; write BAL and cross it clean each change.
Ledger voice: speak totals aloud; bodies obey sound.
4) Income cleanly
Peers: tutoring, small flips, event help—transfer only. Names match.
No cash / no loans: avoid "I'll pay you back" plays; they rot.
Refuse proxy-pays: help process; don't be someone else's card.
5) Spend ladders without heat
Gift cards: follow store policy, accept ID logging, live with manager eyeball ≥ $1,000.
Split receipts: separate categories; it calms LP and calms you.
Exits: leave after wins; let wins stay wins.
6) End recommended (health)
Stop when your plan says stop—even if dopamine says go.
Sleep like it pays you (it does; variance likes rested brains).
Q&A guardrails
5 min at end; keep questions procedural, not "how to cheat."
He stares. It stares back, compact and aversive to fluff.
"Hit me," he says.
Max leans forward, index finger hovering like a conductor's baton. "Cap thinking—you mean cap planning? Cap is a number; planning is the behavior. Maybe 'pick a number and respect it.'"
Jace edits:
Cap: pick a number before you move; respect it.
Max nods at Income cleanly. "Add: names match on transfers. People forget to check."
"It's there," Jace says, taps the line, then adds (verify name before handoff) to make the invisible bold.
The door whispers and resolves into Maya, damp hoodie, coffee carrier like a trophy. She stops just inside the hush as if asking the air for permission. "Handout?" she says, delighted that life rhymes.
"Rails edition," Max says, as if presenting a new vinyl.
Maya parks two cups on the table. "I brought tribute," she says. "For saving me from constants. The TA said 'nice setup' and I said 'my dad taught me,' which confused him."
"I accept this canon," Max says.
She sips, peering at the bullets. "Split receipts might read like 'return fraud' to a paranoid aunt," she says. "Add 'reason: category tracking' so normal people hear why."
Jace adds: (reason: category tracking for warranty/taxes).
Maya tilts her head at No cash / no loans. "Leave IOUs in hell," she says. "Punchier."
Jace changes avoid to leave IOUs in hell and lets himself smirk once. He scrolls; she scrolls with him.
"End recommended," she reads, approving. "Make the sleep line a little meaner—people only respect sleep if it threatens to leave."
Jace adds: skip sleep → pay twice tomorrow. He doesn't italicize; the phrase carries itself.
He drops a TRAP SHEET (Money) strip at the bottom:
Cash → no.
Transfers → yes (names match).
Receipts → photo, file, label.
Variety → time/register/category.
Cool-down → obey.
Stop → when plan says stop.
Maya points at proxy-pays. "Bless this. People keep trying to turn their friends into banks."
"Process, not proxy," Jace says. He highlights the line like blessing.
He exports to PDF, names it BudgetBootcamp_Rails_OnePager_C109.pdf, and drops it in a folder called Handouts that already feels like a memory. He drafts an email to Mara with three sentences and no throat-clearing: Attached: 1-page. See you 11:00. I'll keep Q&A tight. He schedules send for 09:30 tomorrow because clocks are also rails.
"Alarms," he says. He sets 08:20 (wake), 09:20 (handout sanity pass), 10:20 (walk to C109), 14:45 (Marco monitor buffer), 16:10 (walk to store), 16:25 (visible hands), 21:00 (stop planning). Each one gets a label. He says the labels under his breath because sound tells bone what day it is.
The printer coughs once in its sleep and decides not to be part of this story. Good.
His phone taps twice like a polite neighbor. Marco:
Marco: 3:30 still good tomorrow? monitor $329. meet at doors.Jace: Good. We purchase with store card; you transfer $330 at counter. You get receipt/warranty.Marco: deal.
A minute later, Taj:
Taj: heads-up: ID log flips on at open (corporate accelerated). RM out by 4. After that, LP tired. Priya 4–7; she's sane. Visible hands as usual.Jace: Copy. LATE 4:30 locked.Taj: neat.
Sandra lands right after like they rehearsed it:
Sandra: confirm Priya has Register 2 4–7. Quiet day planned. Bring ID, don't make speeches, we'll all be happy.Jace: Understood. We'll be boring.
"Tomorrow is labeled," Max says, satisfied.
Maya finishes her cup with the conviction of a person who intends to stay awake on purpose. "If you want a plant in the audience to ask the right first question," she says, "I can be feral stage mom at 11:01."
"Ask 'how do I stop when it's working,'" Jace says. "Answer: 'by writing down the stop before it works.'"
"Beautiful," Maya says, and pockets the line like a stone.
The room keeps library noises: soft chair scoots, pencils doing jazz, a sneeze someone apologized to. Jace closes the PDF tab and taps the envelope in his pocket twice, not because it needs it, but because rituals keep the universe from thinking it can improvise on your behalf.
A new DM squares his screen with a name he has already filed under competent: Becca Q.
Becca Q: hey—left earbud is quiet compared to right. not dead, just… weak. i've got receipt. i can try support or we can do store exchange tomorrow if that's cleaner? i don't want to mess up your rails.
Max reads over his shoulder with the face of a coin flipping in slow motion. "Warranty eats time," he says, sympathetic. "Store exchange eats pattern."
Maya, expert in instruments and sympathy, grimaces with authority. "Left channel weak is a classic. Manufacturers go: test tone, reset, act surprised, ship a new one. Store exchange is faster if the box isn't mauled. But if you're on a cool pattern, maybe let support be the adult."
"Rails," Jace says, because the word is a friend that speaks when he wants to be flattering. He thumbs a draft:
Option A: I'll meet you and shepherd store exchange by the book (we'll keep hands visible, separate receipt).Option B: You run manufacturer support with the receipt; if they stall, I'll coach the call.
He doesn't send it. He looks at tomorrow like a map: 11:00 talk; 3:30 Marco; 4:30 store window with ID log and Priya; RM out. An exchange at noon would be a third store appearance in 24 hours (yesterday's night moves count in memory). An evening exchange after his window would be four sets of eyes in three days. Patterns have a scent; he's not trying to smell like a loop.
Max taps the screen where Option B lives. "That one keeps us shiny."
Maya shrugs with teammate honesty. "If she hates phones, hold her hand on the call from a couch. Like… coach, don't clerk."
Jace edits Option B:
Option B (preferred): Run manufacturer support with receipt; I can sit in and coach the call from campus—no store needed. If they refuse, we'll schedule a by-the-book exchange later this week (not tomorrow).
He adds a final rail for future him:
Either way: no cash, no favors—receipts only.
He holds it unsent for one breath to be sure he's not picking the thing that feels noble instead of the thing that keeps the floor from cracking. He is not trying to be a hero in the store. He is trying to be the guy who can keep being a guy who helps.
The library clock flips a minute forward with the satisfying clack of an analog soul pretending to be digital. Somewhere down the hall a printer changes its mind and starts a small career.
Jace's thumb hovers over send.
A rain gust rattles the window like a polite knock from weather.
Max raises a brow. "Coach or clerk?"
"Coach," Jace says—but the word isn't a press yet. He allows his thumb one more beat in the neutral zone, because attention is a resource and he gives it out like he labels envelopes: on purpose.