Infinite Cashback: My Wealth Rebate System

The dining hall hit them with the usual wall of fried oil and too many meals arguing for the same air, loud, but the manageable kind of loud, the scrape and hum of a room that had never once heard of silence and had no plans to start now.

They joined the queue, grabbing trays as the line shuffled forward.

"What are you getting?" Marcus asked, peering over the glass display like a hidden, superior menu might materialize if he just looked hard enough.

"Rice," Ben said.

"Original."

"It never disappoint."

Jason scanned the options with the same enthusiasm he brought to most decisions that didn’t involve a floating pink screen. "Same."

Marcus sighed like a man personally let down by the entire concept of lunch. "I don’t know why I keep asking. You two order food like you’re both afraid commitment might follow you home."

A few minutes later, their trays were now loaded with their respective choice of food.

They found an empty table near the middle of the hall and dropped into their seats with the collective, unspoken relief of men who had earned this exact meal.

For a while the only conversation came from the clink of spoons against plates, a rare functioning ceasefire.

Then, predictably, Marcus broke it.

"Okay. I need everyone’s opinion."

Neither Jason nor Ben looked up, both apparently confident that acknowledgment would only encourage him.

"Chicken. Yes or no?"

Jason blinked. "...You’re already eating it."

"That’s not the point."

Marcus lowered his voice, leaning in like he was about to share classified information. "Someone told me they found something in the chicken last week that was structurally speaking...not chicken."

"That’s a rumor," Jason and Ben said in perfect, weary unison, the kind of synchronized delivery that only comes from having heard a man’s conspiracy theories one too many times.

Marcus pointed his spoon at them like it settled the matter legally.

"Rumors start somewhere."

Ben snorted. "Usually with people like you. You invent them, get bored, then act personally offended when they spread."

Marcus gave that exactly half a second of consideration before taking another bite of the same chicken he’d just publicly put on trial, apparently the jury had reached a verdict, and the verdict was whatever, I’m hungry

Jason watched him chew, unbothered. "Strong display of conviction."

Before Marcus could mount a defense, their three phones buzzed almost simultaneously.

Jason set his spoon down and pulled out his own.

Class group he guessed, already reaching for it. Nothing else moved through campus this fast unless it involved free food or a canceled class, and this crowd wasn’t reacting like anyone had just been handed pizza.

He unlocked his screen.

CHE 201 Class Group

Class Rep: Afternoon lab has been canceled. There is a water supply issue in the building. Further updates will be communicated.

Jason read the message once, then looked up. "So." He set his phone on the table. "We’re unexpectedly unemployed for the afternoon. Labs are canceled, water issue in the building, closed for the rest of the day."

Marcus froze mid-bite, spoon suspended in the air like it had personally betrayed him by pausing there.

"Wait." He looked between them, slow, deliberate, giving the moment the gravity of a man about to receive test results. "Say that again."

Ben gave him a flat look. "The labs are canceled."

Marcus placed both palms flat on the table, gently enough not to disturb the trays, but with the ceremonial weight of a man officially ratifying his own good fortune.

"Oh, yes!" A few heads turned nearby. "This is the best thing that’s happened to me all week. Better than surviving twenty-five minutes of Professor Warren’s public execution. I feel reborn. New man walking out of this dining hall."

"Better than the chicken verdict?" Jason asked.

"Much better. The chicken was reasonable doubt. This is an acquittal."

Ben chuckled. "It’s one free afternoon."

Marcus pointed at him, mock-wounded. "Don’t ruin a gift with logic, Ben. You couldn’t survive one chemistry question, you are statistically the least qualified person at this table to lecture anyone on anything today."

Jason glanced between them. "So we’re actually free the rest of the day."

"Exactly." Marcus leaned in, already vibrating with the specific energy of a man about to propose something they’d all regret. "Which raises an important question."

"What do we do with our unexpected freedom?"

Jason considered it. "I was gonna head home."

And, turning the idea over, he realized it actually appealed to him more than it should have for something this uneventful. Nothing was keeping him on campus, he had completed the daily quests presented to him by the system, and the only loose thread was a reward the system was apparently still "calculating." Probably just another beginner bonus.

Still, now that the afternoon had opened up in front of him, it was the one thing left unfinished in his head.

"Catch up on a few things," he added.

Marcus sighed like he’d just watched a man throw away a winning lottery ticket. "You’re boring."

"I’ve been called worse."

"You’ve been boring all day. Respectably boring. But boring." He leaned back in his chair, already mentally checked out for the afternoon. "As for me, I’m going home to become one with my mattress for several hours. Recovery is an essential part of processing today’s trauma."

"And that’s not boring?" Jason asked.

Ben shook his head. "You stood for twenty-five minutes, man. That’s not trauma."

Marcus looked genuinely offended, the wounded dignity of a man being fundamentally misunderstood by everyone in his life. "The trauma was cumulative." He waved a vague hand, as if the gesture alone settled the science of it. "You two just don’t get me."

Ben only smiled and gave a slow, unconvinced shake of his head, the universal response to a man who’d never once been persuaded of his own suffering.

They finished up, cleared their trays, and headed out. The dining hall’s clatter faded fast behind the closing doors, swapped out for the quieter rhythm of campus in motion.

Where their paths split, Marcus stretched like a man already halfway home in spirit if not body.

"Bed recovery," he announced. "That’s the mission. Me, a mattress, and zero academic responsibilities until next week, God willing."

"Try not to start another fight with a hand dryer" Jason said.

Marcus pointed a finger back at him without breaking stride. "No promises. But this last one wasn’t me, that thing started it."

Ben laughed. "I can’t believe you still remember that."

"It’s hard to forget someone losing an argument to bathroom equipment," Jason said.

Marcus clicked his tongue, wounded pride fully intact, and peeled off toward the residential halls with Ben, the two of them still arguing whether the dryer had been "malfunctioning" or "disrespectful" a debate Jason suspected had no actual resolution and would simply recall unprompted for the rest of the semester.

He watched them go, then turned down the opposite path.

A few steps in, something tugged at the back of his mind and stopped him cold.

"Right."

The twelve dollars he owed Max. Still sitting there, unpaid, the way debts always waited for the exact worst possible moment to resurface, apparently equipped with better timing instincts than most people he actually knew.

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