Being Human belongs to Toby Whithouse. This 'version' of why belongs to me.

An American director wrote about a galaxy far, far away set a long time ago. What about: here, a long, long time … after. Or a combination about far away and after. But it happened.

Why it happened is irrelevant. Were they drunk or bored? Marooned on this dismal landscape or celebrating a victory? Fact is they entered the lab. And played.

They should have known better. Great powers come with great responsibilities and all that palaver… They entered the lab, played and it happened.

They raided the boxes, the DNA, the codes. They broke the rules and experimented. On other beings. Weaker, hapless beings. Unable to defend themselves. They let them loose. Inflicting the contaminated on the pure breed. The type 0. The Golden Standard.

Beings. What beings? What is a being? … Imagine us: we are beings. Then one of us becomes a writer. He creates fictional characters: his creatures which are in a way beings and created. His target though is us, the other beings for whom he writes. Creator yet simple being. Equal among equals, We all have the divine potential of creation. We create… Who knows? Are we creatures? Us? Maybe.

After the… they entered the lab and toyed with the 'samples'. What had started as a scientific observation, a thorough examination without any alteration turned up to be the stuff of nightmares. Frankenstein's monster on steroids.

Generally, when we discover a primeval world, we observe and avoid –it is a rule, a commandment- to not tamper with the species. The furry tree huggers grew and grew. And one day, they walked upright. And they started to roam, learnt to make fire. They learnt to kill too. We did not teach them how to kill. Quite good at it, on their very own.

We took just a … pinch. A group of cavemen who chose the wrong cave. Put them into cages. Studied their' oh so' primitive DNA. Closed the door behind us for the week-end. Who works on Sundays?

I suspect it was wilful. Can't prove it though. I am the babysitter who introduced her boyfriend into the house and let the kid play with the matches. I am not an innocent.

And it happened. The guys introduced, imprinted some of our DNA into the genetic apparel of the monkeys. It was bad. But worse was to come. They let loose the primates back into the fold of their own specie.

You have it. The people who knew it was wrong and did it, the ones who washed their hands of the whole mess. The ones who still hold it was fun. The secret agenda and those who still feel responsible.

The result is … explains why you were hired.

Some Neanderthals realized quickly in a way what had happened. They have kept watching and cleaning up our own mess. They are nice… in a way but as ruthless as we are. Some of us watch: which is why you are now sitting at this console, reading the monitor. Watching through the mirrors. Dear Charles, being a scientist knew there are worlds hiding behind looking glasses. Dear Reverend Hodgson who knew Time was of the essence… Time back and forth is not a problem for us.

The men in grey mop the sick; we watch and play referee if we need too. Mirrors open to more than one door, right? You have the clock with you. You know what to do.

The creatures? It is ridiculously simple. The vampire gene is dormant and wakes when induced by a vampire bite; just like a werewolf scratch wakes up the werewolf in you. Vampires and werewolves 'recognize' their brothers in infortune… As for the ghosts, even better. Parthenogenetic in a way. Stress levels inducing endorphins inducing the 'change'. Mercifully all of this is lethal, the creatures can't reproduce. These types are the more frequent. As you know we can do worse.

Eve? Little Eve should not have happened. That is why we suspect somebody is still 'at it'… The little one is safe. She has two mothers who are like Solomon's good mother. Lucky child. She deserves it; her future was quite dire. Would it have happened if -we- have not intervened? Who knows?

We are watchers. Just watching other people clearing up the mess.