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It was the summer in Denzore City, and that meant heat, humidity, and storms. Tarik sat at a small table below the awning of Prrpa’s cafe on the fifth floor of 1027th street. He sipped his black Srassen tea that tasted like a forest breeze and enjoyed the sounds of the acid rain crashing against the maze of multi-leveled city streets, washing them clean of the dirt and debris that built up from so many people living atop one another. Poor souls rushed by in the rain, wrapped in thin plastic waterproofs that reduced all intelligent life in the galaxy down to one of four sizes, quickened by the occasional strike of lightning. Tarik hoped the squall would end before he had to join them in seven and a half minutes to catch his train.