*A quick...well not disclaimer but you understand I'm sure. When I write in this story about a seriously corrupted and fearful government I am in no way implying that this is true ofour government or the current political regime. This story is about a dystopian, parallel universe. In fact, I set it in the not terribly distant future. I just never assign dates (save for the month and occasional day number and lunar phase) because I want you to use your imagination. How soon or far off could you see this happening? But I don't make up fanciful situations. These are honestly how I see human nature responding to certain stimuli be they humans facing a different breed of human or the government facing near apocalyptic conditions. These are my observations on human behavior. Nothing more, nothing less. Okay, enough of that. Chapter 37...go!*

They sat around a large round table with a bright light illuminating them and dimming anything outside of the table. This was how they were supposed to work. They left themselves outside of this room, this building. All that mattered were the cases brought before them. All that mattered were the issues. All that mattered were the people. So they hoped. Men and women sat around the table in dark or at least drab suits, they all wore suits, with constant worry on their faces.

Their leader entered. Well, he was more of an organizer. He saw to it that every subject was covered and that solutions were reached. For now we will refer to him as Mr. X, since his name and identity needn't matter at all. Not in here. "Tell me something good people," he sighed wearily as he reached his seat.

"I'm afraid there isn't much good to be told," a woman across the table replied. How about we call this terrified but outwardly cool woman Mrs. K?

"Then tell me something we know," demanded Mr. X.

A large man in a beige suit sighed as though he hadn't a care in the world. Mr. P. "We know a great deal I'm sure."

"Doubtful," scoffed the youthful Mr. M. He was new to the round table and by most considered a nuisance.

Mr. P openly rolled his eyes, not very dignified for a man of his position. "We know plenty. The undesirables—"

Mr. X put up a hand. "Call them what they are. The vampyres. We needn't give them some…caste title. The vampyres. Now continue."

Mr. P cleared his throat. His feathers had clearly been ruffled. "The vampyres are being recruited once more. A familiar young woman always at the scene." The group nodded. They'd become familiar with this particular vamp sympathizer.

"Yes," Mr. X sighed. "This, Mari Diana, yes?"

"A writer," Ms. N piped in. "A young woman of little importance. She spoke up and…your predecessor grew concerned. Had her black listed. She should have been Bagged and yet…"

Mr. X rubbed his temples. He hated when they added dramatics to their deliveries. "And yet, councilor?"

"She is excellent at endearing herself to people I suppose," Ms. N sniffed.

"Is it endearing herself?" Ms. H asked. "Or is it simply seeing them as human beings?"

Mr. P chuckled at the young Ms. H. "Aren't we supposed to leave our personal opinions outside?"

"You can hardly judge her," Mr. M retorted. "The man who moments ago called the vampyres 'undesirables'." Mr. P puffed up, prepared to come back at the young man just as hard, but a single glance from Mr. X deflated him.

"Whatever the reason may be," Mrs. K resumed, hoping to remind her co-councilors of their positions, "she made friendships, alliances, which kept her out of the Baggers' reach. For nearly three years. Then she changed direction. Rather than running she chose to rally vampyres and vamp sympathizers to fight. To rise up against the rules holding them down." Mr. P opened his mouth to begin again with his tired reminder. "I'm not spouting my personal opinion. I am merely stating what they did. And they did rise up against the Baggers and those testing on the Bagged and they won."

"Not only did they win the battle," Mr. M continued, "but they began a war. This Mari, with the help of a supposedly escaped PC—"

"PC?" Mr. X inquired.

"Living computers, sir," Ms H sighed, unable to hide her sadness. "People with databases implanted into their brains."

Mr. M nodded. "Yes…this was how the PC knew what to do. She and Ms. Diana stole footage from security cameras and used it against those on the film. And they released thousands of scientific subjects."

"We thought it might be the end of her," Ms. N added. "Her being a radical, a species not known for thinking very far ahead, we assumed that was all she had planned. Perhaps we were wrong because she began popping up all over. Seen stopping local vigilantes from destroying vampyres and their supporters. Then she disappeared from our radar for a small amount of time."

"Then she popped up again and began recruiting for this war she began when she attacked the testing facility," Mr. P growled. "We believe she may have been party to the murder of the many dead scientists."

"I thought she was part of the rebel group protecting the remaining scientists," Mr. M quickly replied.

Mr. P scoffed and gave Mr. M a patronizing look. "If you can really believe they are still alive. Even then, who's to say she didn't kill the scientists to instill fear into the hearts of the living?"

"We are here to discuss the facts," Mr. X boomed, "not speculate."

Mr. P shrugged. "Aren't we? We want to figure out what she's up to; doesn't that require speculation of some sort?" He was right, there was no getting around that, but each and every one of them hated to admit it when he was.

"Still," Mr. X pushed on. "Our speculations should be based on hard facts."

"And the facts are that Mari Diana is an extremist," Mr. P maintained. "Why shouldn't we consider the possibility that she would kill off scientists to prove a point?"

"Alright, you've been heard," Mr. X sighed. "What else do we know? Anything about these other groups we've seen moving?" There was a simultaneous shrug among the people around the table. "Nothing?"

"Well, certainly very little," Ms. N replied quietly. "But we do know they are not allied with the vampyre group or Mari. There are several distinct groups sequestering themselves. Members of the government have been pulled into these groups."

Mr. X raised his eyebrows as far up his forehead as they could go. "Government?"

Mr. M shrugged. "Congress, senate, several governors, mayors, supreme court members, even military. From federal to local government. It's like an epidemic. No grandma is immune let alone government employee or elected official."

"My God," Mr. X sighed.

Ms. H chuckled a little. "Or gods, as the case may be. Members of my community have been heard proclaiming that some god or another has told them what they are to do."

"Gods?"

"Yes," Ms. H continued. "Ancient Sumerian gods, Egyptian, Greek, African, Native American, Nordic, Christian. You name it, it's been listed. Hell, the sergeant of my local police department said that he was off to follow Set's orders."

"This is madness," Mr. X worried, to himself more than anything. "So what should we do? Suggestions?"

There was a brief moment of silence. Mr. P stood up, smiling a little. "Do? Why I suggest we do nothing."

Ms. H and Mr. M shared a look of concern. "Nothing?" Ms. H cried. "But this is leading up to war. People are going to die."

"They will fight, regardless," Mr. P sighed as though there was little he could do about the matter. "We will come in and pick up the pieces." The table erupted in concerned chatter. "We cannot stop these zealots from fighting, killing and dying. All we can do really is reap the benefits."

Mr. M stood angrily. "Reap? How dare you?"

"We fight them and we will lose valuable officers to an unreasonable, primal force!" Mr. P shouted over Mr. M. "We allow them to cull themselves and we will be allowed to repair the damage. People will believe in us just as these people are in their gods. Belief is powerful. We could use this to our advantage."

Mr. X shook his head. "I'm not sure…but at this moment there seems to be little we can do. When we next reconvene I hope you will all have more information. The more we know the better we'll be able to protect the people from this war on our horizon." He paused. "I really hope we can find out more…because as powerful as the belief of people is I would rather not gain it in such a manner. I want the people to believe in their government because we protect them, not because they fear us less than an opposing force."

Mr. P walked to his car in the parking garage. He was intercepted by a young man with a burned face. "Hello, sir," he said calmly, with an English accent. "I'm Michael Covington. Might I have a word?"

*I like covering different parts of this story. I really like the impersonal view point in this chapter. Oh and, just so you know, we know at least one of the shadow people.*