They built the wall to the prescribed psychological specification on a hillside near a busy arterial. When the work crews finally unveiled it, he nondescript white surface was was vast and tantalizing in the afternoon sun. But no cars slowed or otherwise paid any notice as they whizzed by.
The first writer approached the wall nonchalantly at just past 3:37AM, dark hoody up over his head, bag on his shoulder. With the bars closed, there was no traffic of note and the city was mostly silent. He sized up the wall then pulled out a spray can and set to work. Three cameras across the street silently monitored and recorded the progress of his artistic assault, but no alarms sounded. He finished his throw-up, gathered the spray cans off the ground and scrambled into the darkness.
“Cell phone was a disposable so we couldn’t trace the billing address, but we successfully tagged him with multiple rfids on his shoes, bag and spray cans. We’re tracking him now.”
“Excellent. Reset the wall.”