Life took place in a series of routines on Mars. The colony's rules and regulations had to be strict to keep the order. Each individual knew what tasks they had to do each day and how they needed to do them.
     Lazrin knew this, but he found himself unwilling to step away. With such important and limited cargo, it's extremely rare that mistakes would be made with the rocket's inventory, but something is definitely wrong. There are too many seed packets. One too few, to be precise. Lazarin's assignment for the day was to inventory the new shipment of seeds for the next season's planting. There is one extra seed packet then is listed on his touch screen device.
     Lazarin picks up the packet and is even more baffled by the label. The picture shows a pot of flowers of all colors, but they don't seem to produce any type of fruit or vegetable. They're just flowers. They're not efficient. They're not beneficial.
     The gardener still takes the seeds with him as he leaves the cargo bay. That night, when everyone is asleep, he creeps into the garden and brings a shallow pot out from storage. It's against regulation, but Lavarin's never done anything to hurt the colony in the whole eight years he has lived in the complex system of tunnels and hubs. Now he scoops as little soil as possible from the greenhouse's storage bin. He draws a bit of water from the pump. It was a cup. Just a cup. It would be more as the days went by, but Lavarin ignored that for the time being.
     Three weeks later, a small pot of wildflowers appeared on the central table in the dining hall. The flowers were burts of purple and orange that the workers hadn't seen since they left earth. It took the council a couple days to find the culprit. When forced, Lazarin, holding his pot of flowers, went happily through the airlock and out into the vacuum of space.