Ogden could be the anarchist, but you don't know him or of the anarchists yet.

Sandra Tipper, 19, female. Uncharacteristically worried these days.
Paul Ogden, 19, male. Wants to see a crossword puzzle on the side of the U.S. Bank Tower in downtown Los Angeles.

The pair are sitting on a bench on a highly elevated hill somewhere in Southern California. Cloud demons are present, precipitation eager to bring rust to industy is imminent.

Tipper: This is my favorite weather. Cloudy, rainy, slightly dark. I love it.
Ogden: I like the fog, and only the fog. Hey, why slightly dark?
Tipper: It's a preparation.
Ogden: Meaning?
Tipper: Sprawl doesn't endure forever. Resources are dwindling.
Ogden: What?
Ogden: Hey, do you see that aqueduct? That's amazing! I've never seen one before.
Tipper: What I'm trying to say is I'm afraid I'll be there when the sprawl breaks.
Tipper: When the lights go out, the pipes run dry. When the lights black out.
Tipper: Will I need my cat's ghost to guide me?
Ogden: You read a softer world too much - I think. You'd be perfect to write for them.
Ogden: Maybe you already do. Is this your next piece?
Tipper: A saucy world?
Ogden: No, softer, a softer world.
Ogden: Did you bring the camera? Take a picture of the aqueduct! Do you see it now, over there by the powerline.
Tipper: I see it now.