After catching up with the odd-looking man that day on the pier, the man had turned to him and smiled knowingly, as if he had known Ryan was going to make the choice to come along. Ryan had started with a barrage of questions: "Who are you? How do you know me? Why do you walk about in public with stained clothes? What do you mean by dragging me off to some unknown location?"

The Artist held up his hand, motioning for Ryan to be quiet.

"All you need to know, Ryan, is that I've had my eye on you for quite a while. We know many of the same people, though I doubt some of them would admit to it." The Artist chuckled, and explained, "I have a bit of a bad reputation."

He motioned to his hat.

Suddenly noticing the hat, Ryan looked around to see if anyone he knew was around. Thankfully, the area was clear. It would not reflect well on him to be seen with someone wearing a hat.

Ryan asked a few more questions, but The Artist merely said all would be revealed in time. The pair walked through the city and eventually got to the bad side of town. Ryan became very uncomfortable. Suddenly, a large and dangerous-looking man who was wearing a hat took note of the pair and began walking toward them. Ryan began to get very nervous as the man drew closer, and closer. Was he going to rob them? Attack them?

"Hey!" The man shouted. Ryan and The Artist both looked at the man. Ryan was terrified; it would simply not do for him to be found dead in this section of town!

The Artist's face broke into a wide grin. "Tyrone!" The Artist exclaimed. "I didn't even see you! How's it going?"

"Can't complain, my man. I saw you walking down the street without even saying hello and I knew I had to rectify the situation. Who's your friend?" Tyrone gestured at Ryan.

Tyrone and The Artist embraced.

"This is my new student. His name is Ryan. I'm taking him to the studio."

Tyrone was clearly impressed. He offered his hand. "Ryan, it is quite an honor to be chosen to learn from this man. And it is an honor to meet you."

Ryan was taken aback, and hesitantly shook the man's hand.

"Ryan, come on," The Artist said. "It's time for you to see the studio. And Tyrone, I'll see you around."

"Right on, man! I'll see you later."

After walking for a few more minutes, Ryan spoke. "Sir?" he queried, "Why did you act that way with Tyrone? He's not the sort of person polite people associate with. Yet you treated him like an equal."

"It's simple, Ryan. He is an equal. He's been a very good friend to me and I love him for it."

Ryan thought about this for a moment.

"But, sir, people of polite society don't wear hats."

"And that is why I normally avoid 'polite' society. It often isn't."

Ryan realized that The Artist was correct. He had often seen members of his strata of society often behaving worse than those they looked down upon.

"And at some point, Ryan, you need to ask yourself whether a hat is inherently wrong in and of itself. What is a hat, really? It's just a piece of cloth stichted together in a certain way, and you put it on your head. Is it a hat that is evil, or is it the person wearing that hat?"

"Well..." Ryan started to respond, "...I'm not sure."

"Then think about it. Let me know when you have an answer."

The Artist suddenly stopped walking.

"Ah, here we are!" he exclaimed.

Ryan looked at the building. It was a small, nondescript house.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"This," The Artist replied, " is my studio. It was where I am going to change your life. "

Biology is confusing enough. Biology on very little sleep is incomprehensible.

At Shane and Emily's apartment