A few heads turn in Liam's direction and find him staring out the window, oblivious to the class around him. The teacher waits a moment and says, a little louder, "Liam? What is your opinion on what I've just said?"

Liam still doesn't hear, continuing to stare out the window. The ensuing awkward silence is broken by the sound of the bell, signaling the end of class. The students pick up their things and leave, a few laughs bouncing around the room. On his way out Liam notices the teacher giving him an odd look, so he gives him a smile and a quick nod.

He walks to Elizabeth's next class, the final class of the day, and peers through the doorway. She isn't there, so he waits. The bell rings and someone closes the door, and she still isn't there. He imagines her running down the hallway yelling, "Wait, don't close the door!" and laughs. He walks to his locker, tosses his books inside and leaves the school. Outside he stretches slowly and takes a deep breath, then starts walking.

At the park he finds Elizabeth, laying on her back on a bench, reading a book. "I figured you'd be here." She pulls her legs out of the way to let him sit down. He asks, "What're you reading?"

"A book by Nathaniel Branden. Did I ever tell you about this guy? I totally love him." She sits up. "He reminds me that I live in a sane universe."

"What does he write?"

"Psychology books, about self-esteem mostly. From the outside there's not much to distinguish them from the stuff they sell at airport bookstores, but once you get into his books they're amazing. He really makes it seem like the world could be run logically someday, that we aren't going to be stuck with this ridiculous crap forever. I hate the idea that he's going to die someday, because every year of his life is more important than 50,000 of the bland nobodies we know. He's advancing things, he's making progress in human psychology while everybody else seems to be stuck on the treadmill. He really seems to be helping people realize their potential."

"Branden, Branden... I know I've heard that name before..." He thinks for a moment. "Did he have anything to do with Ayn Rand?"

"He wrote a book about her, but I haven't read it. Who is she?"

"She wrote this book called Atlas Shrugged in the fifties that I read a couple of years ago. As I learned more about her she became somewhat... incompatible with my view of life, but the first time I read Atlas... it was amazing." He leans forward, his elbows on his knees. "I think that I always saw the beauty of the world, I always understood the amazingness of reality, but it was never acknowledged. Not once in my life had anyone ever given me the feeling that they saw it too, that it was true and that it was incredible, that I wasn't just imagining things. It was crazy, walking through this world and being entranced by everything, while everyone else averted their eyes and pretended it wasn't there, and I couldn't understand it, but I couldn't even be sure I knew it, because it was only me. Me against the world, literally, and it was a tough thing. When I read Atlas, it was the first time that the beauty of the world, the potential of the human race, the joy of life... it finally looked back at me. It looked straight at me for the first time ever, and it smiled." He looks over at her. "It must sound kind of strange to put it that way, but that's how it was. Like a two dimensional object that turned so I could finally see it. And now that I know it's there, now that I'm certain, I can never lose it. It'll be with me forever now, all because of that book. She may have led me a little astray later on, but that was a minor thing, compared to what she gave to me."

She's smiling, watching him. "I love things like that – the things in life that make it all worth it, that you'd endure hell just to experience. And then, after awhile, you start to find them more and more often." She stretches, then watches her arms as she moves them slowly in the air before her. "We're designed to feel good. We can get sick and we can get hurt, but our basic state feels great. It's hard to find people who can mirror that understanding back to you, that they don't regret being here, that it's actually the greatest thing that could ever happen." She puts an arm around his shoulder and leans her head against his. "It's a good thing I've got you."

He smiles and runs a hand gently through her hair. "So, what got you to ditch school today?"

She keeps smiling, but breathes a little heavily. "Sometimes I just can't connect with people who I'm sure I should be able to get along with. They just end up treating me like I'm stupid. It drives me nuts. So – I retreat."

"Did you actually find another kid with a brain around here?"

"No, a teacher. But I obviously misjudged him." They're quiet for a moment, looking up at the trees. A woman bicycles past and smiles when she sees them, then zooms past.

"I almost forgot," he says. "I won't be at school tomorrow."

"How come?"

"I hafta go to my aunt's funeral. It's such a joke... that side of my family is so religious it's ridiculous, they'd bring up the notion of going to heaven at the drop of a hat, but they're in hysterics over my aunt dying. It's obvious that they don't really believe in any of it. Deep down they know it's over, so they mourn the wasted life."

"It's true, that's what it really comes down to. I want my funeral to be a party, I want everybody to be happy. I want music and dancing, and I want people to say, 'Wow, Elizabeth really lived a great life. Look at all the things she accomplished, look at how happy she was'. It will still be sad, after all, I'll be dead, but I want it to be happy sad. I was people to smile while they cry. I want them to be proud of the things I've done, I want them to celebrate my life, not mourn my death. I want it to be everything that funerals aren't. And I don't want it to be for a looong time."

"Maybe we'll go out together, so they can have one super-gigantic party."

She smiles. "We should really plan this out in advance – it'd be a shame to have such a big party and not be able to go to it. A "we promise to die someday" party. A pre-emptive funeral."

"Yeah, maybe..." A drop of water hits his nose and he says, "It's gonna rain. We should head home."

"Home? No way." She stands up and pulls him to his feet. "Rain is the best time to be out." She starts to walk. "Come on."

"Jesus!" Liam ducks into a concrete underpass, where the sidewalk passes through a small hill, which carries an off-ramp. There is very little traffic on it tonight. He leans against the wall of the passage and begins drying his hair with his shirt. "I can't believe how hard it's raining!"

Elizabeth stands outside, looking in at him. "Don't you like it?"

He looks out at her, through a sheet of water, against a black backdrop. "I'm completely soaked. I've just gotta recuperate is all."

"Fine." She steps through the barrier and into the tunnel, walking the 20 feet to the other end. She peers out, her vision being swallowed up by a thick wall of darkness and water, which contrasts harshly against the single light in the tunnel ceiling behind her. "Night hit pretty fast." She walks back toward Liam and sits down against the wall opposite him, watching him dry off. She holds her head back, and raindrops fall from her hair. "I can see your belly-button."

He stops drying his hair and peers down at her. "Well, then I guess it's your turn. Better get out of those wet clothes."

She grins and looks back out into the night, unselfconsciously pulling off her shirt. Underneath, her damp t-shirt clings visibly to her shoulders. She tosses the wet shirt onto the floor and continues watching the rain fall outside.

Liam looks at her as he sits down, shifting a little. After a moment he says, "Well, looks like we're stuck."

She clicks her tongue. "Don't be a wimp, the rain's not even cold. It's almost like a big shower." She's quiet for a moment, her eyes unfocused. "Look at how great that is – nobody can get in here, because of a little rain. It's like a wall to them. We're blocked off." Turning to him, she says, "We're all alone in here, and nobody will ever come, because of the rain." She smiles. "As long as there's rain, we're safe."

"Safe against what?"

"Against being annoyed, being imposed upon. Have you ever been walking down the street, people everywhere, walking beside you, walking past you, and then it starts to rain really heavily and they all scatter? You're walking down the street all by yourself, it's like the planet just suddenly became empty. I wish I could call down rain at will... that would be so great. Everything looks so different when it's raining."

"It's alright except for the wet clothes," he says, pulling at his shirt. "They stick."

"Sure, but technically, there's no reason why we're even wearing them. It isn't cold and they don't offer any real protection. It would make a lot more sense if we were naked. But I can't walk around naked in the rain, it'd be a fucking scandal. So we get shafted."

He laughs a little as he stands up. "I'm sure you'll get over it, someday." He walks to the edge of the underpass and puts his hand out, letting the rain bounce off his palm. "It's true, it is nice... from the inside, at least."

She stretches slowly, closing her eyes as she runs her hands across the concrete wall behind her. "Mmm... do you feel that? Touch one of these walls. I love this."

He turns toward her, watching her curiously. Her eyes stay closed, and her arms move slowly above her head, rubbing softly across the wall. She slowly slides downward, her t-shirt catching slightly against the cement. She leans to the side, her eyes still closed, then tips carefully forward, her arms moving to catch her, then lowers herself carefully onto the cement floor, facing away from him. She lies her head on one of her arms while the other arm slowly draws random patterns on the floor with a the tip of her finger. She smiles, her eyes still closed. "If I were dropped on the planet, all alone, I'd have no idea how to mix concrete. It would take me years to figure it out, if I ever managed at all. But somebody did, and now it's everywhere. The world is full of things that people invented, out of nothing. It's like a giant magic trick – taking the given, the granted, the expected of nature, and making something completely new from it, something you could hardly even imagine until you'd seen it." She rolls onto her back and opens her eyes, looking up at him. "Lie down. It's a lot better than grass."

He grins in spite of himself. "You're the first girl I've ever met with a progress fetish."

"Inventions – these are all inventions. But they've become so widespread that nobody remembers who made them. They've become the new given, the new to-be-taken-for-granted, but you can never let that happen. This all came from somewhere. This all came from someone's mind." She stares up at the ceiling and lapses into silence.

He looks down at her. "I can see your belly-button."

She smiles a little, but doesn't alter her glance. "So, how long should we hang around in here?"

"I guess we can go anytime. There's not much point in drying off when we've got to go back into the rain anyway."

"There's a big bus stop near here," she says, sitting up. "We could go there." She picks up her shirt and ties it around her waist. Standing up, she takes a deep breath. "Besides, I've got some sand in my hair, and there's only one way to get it out."

He raises an eyebrow as she walks toward him, her arms out. She pushes him gently into the rain, and his arms go up over his head as he tries to shield himself, but he puts them back down as she walks out after him. They stand quietly in the rain for a moment, smiling at each other, then start walking.

People sit on benches outside of a small shopping plaza, protected from the rain by an overhanging roof. Some talk quietly to one other, others sit in silence, waiting for the buses to arrive. The mall itself is closed, and only the sound of an occasional passing car pierces through the white-noise of the surrounding wall of rain.

Suddenly, out of the blackness steps Liam, soaking wet, with Elizabeth close behind. Their conversation seems loud in contrast to the previous stillness of the surroundings.

"Man, I'm totally drenched now!" he says. "Someone could dump a bucket of water on me and I wouldn't even feel it!"

"I know, it's like we just went swimming with our clothes on."

They sit down on a bench and begin wringing themselves out. "I still can't believe how warm it is; everywhere else I've lived I'd be freezing my ass off right now."

"Yeah, cold weather is shit. If I lived somewhere where it actually snowed I'd hijack a plane just to get further south. Living in the cold for a significant portion of your life is just fucked."

She continues her efforts to ring out her clothes a little, but Liam has stopped. He's glancing around, noticing how many people are looking in their direction as she says, "Holy Christ, I'm like a living fucking sponge here!"

"Hey," he says, still glancing around. "Maybe we should quiet down a little."

She looks up at him, confused, then notices him watching the people around them. "What's up?"

"It's just, well, they're all staring at us," he half-whispers. "I'm getting a real Dawn of the Dead vibe here."

"No, it's not that," she says, glancing around herself. "It's because I said fuck." The word seems to hang in the air, traveling down the row of benches. "There's a whole breed of people who don't want you to say it, especially in a public place. It's like a litmus test; how much of a choke hold does society have on you? Does it bother you when someone says fuck?" Once again, the word seems to fill the bus stop, but no one else says a word. "So if I were to say fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck it would upset these people, because that's something that you just don't say! Aren't I right, old people! You aren't even that old, but they've already got you! You're conditioned not to like that word, and do you know why? Because you don't want anybody to be happy! It all has to be one big ball of repressed shit, doesn't it?"

"Jesus Elizabeth, what the hell are you talking about?"

She puts a finger on his lips. "Don't say Jesus. Or hell either. It might bother somebody." His eyes narrow in genuine puzzlement, and she almost laughs. "You should see your face right now. Come on," she says, standing up. "They can't follow us back out there. Let's walk home."

He remains sitting for a moment, his face a mixture of a question and a scowl, but he looks around at the people who are still watching them, and smiles a little. "Lead the way."

She takes him by the hand and together they step back into the rain, disappearing almost instantly.