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As he opened the coffeeshop's door, Frank squinted in annoyance as the loud clamouring of the clients' conversations clashed with the early morning quietness.

He resisted the urge to shush them, and silently wondered why couldn't a coffeeshop be considered equal to a library when came the loudness of its occupants.

"Next," the barista announced, punching the precedent order. Her eyes lit up as Frank approached the counter with his fidelity card. "Frank! Good morning; the usual, mochalattecino, chocolate on top but no cinnamon?"

"You got it," Frank smiled as she circled off a dot from his card.

While she foamed fresh milk, Frank looked in annoyance around him.

"I wish you could add books around here. That way, everyone would be quiet."

The barista chuckled.

"I don't really blame them, with what happened."

"What did happen?" Frank asked.

She looked at him quizzingly.

"Didn't you watched the news?"

"No, I had to prepare my kids for school. What did I missed?"

The barista snorted as she set aside the foamed milk and began filling the takeout cup with hot chocolate.

"Our 'for the people' president just got arrested and personally sent to political prison by Vice-President Carrie. Turns out he was a Klavern!"

Frank's eyes widened.

"You're kidding."

She chuckled drily.

"Not at all, darling. It's all over the news. Vice-President Carrie has announced that he'll be electing a new temporary President, as he is famously unwilling to take on the duty."

"That's rare," Frank said.

She shrugged as she handed him his coffee.

"That's our modern world. What d'you wanna do about it?"

Anything, something, Frank's mind yelled. He smiled warmly at the barista, gave her his compliments and left more than her usual tipping for her work, and left the coffeeshop, troubled.

When he got off of his car and walked up to his porch, two voices chatted excitedly. They stopped when they heard him walk, and two figures rose from the staircase they were sitting upon.

"There you are, we were worried we'd wait here until midnight," Madzistrale said.

"She was worried. I remembered you have kids," Tom rectified.

"What are you doing here, guys?" Frank said, surprised but strangely glad to see them.

"We wanted to take a look at that conspiracy theory website of yours," Madzistrale went direct to the point.

Frank blushed and waved his hands in protestation.

"It's not a conspiracy website! It's merely a... a... social outlet for the people. There's actually a lot of things, like science, philosophy, general chat, art..."

"Yeah, well, that one. We'd like to look at your social outlet for the people website," Madzistrale smirked.

"Be nice," Tom gave her a push on the elbow.

"I'd be glad to actually hear your thoughts," Frank said, walking past the siblings to unlock his front door. "Something happened, and it reminds me too much of what you warned me about."

Madzistrale gazed at Tom, and the two respectfully followed Frank inside his house.

"Follow me," he said, leading them to his studio room.

Opening his Interweb bookmark, he began scrolling the home page, the siblings looking over his shoulders.

"I just heard that President Bohm got arrested as a Klavern, and something doesn't seem right to me," Frank explained. "Ah, there it goes... fifty-ish threads about the exact same thing..."

"So that doesn't change," Tom smirked. "And I bet everyone thinks their point of view is unique."

"What's the bottom line?" Madzistrale asked.

Frank squints at the titles, and finally chooses one.

"Okay, let's see... 'After incessant diggings brought upon by the citizens' worries, the Investigational Committee found overwhelming evidences inculping ex-President Robert Bohm as an active member of the Klaverns'..."

"What's the Klavern?" Madzistrale interrupted, puzzled.

"A supremacist hate group with lots of influence, and lots of followers."

"Doesn't surprise me," Madzistrale replied bitterly.

Frank shrugged and resumed:

"A member since the age of 22, Bohm's name is found in several forms and files of the Klavern.... Etc, etc... Vice-President Carrie has personally assisted at the arrest, and faced with this devastating news, has told the reporters that the system can no longer be relied upon. He declared this morning a state emergency, and will be soon electing a new President without public voting."

Frank stopped, shocked.

"It can't be possible!"

"Why, what does it mean?" Tom asked, Madzistrale continuing to read with a bored expression.

"It means the population won't vote for the new President. No one will vote, in fact. Carrie will simply elect this new President, and that's the end of the story."

Madzistrale turned her head sharply.

"He can't do that, right? Isn't it against your rules?"

"Well that's why the declaration of state of emergency," Tom mused. "The Constitution no longer applies."

"So who's this new President?" Madzistrale asked.

Frank shrugged.

"No one knows yet; it hasn't been announced."

"Sounds fishy, though," Tom said, his brow frowning. "What evidences exactly do they have? Words are meaningless."

Frank returned to the home page, and continued to scroll the list of thread names.

"Here's one: 'The horrible truth behind the disappearance of the Vymana Squadron... The remains of the infamous Vymana Squadron, responsible for alerting the Americani of a possibly corrupted government, were found carelessly buried... ...As shown below, the bodies show irrefutable signs of the ceremonial ritual of the Klaverns, such as the branding...'"

"Stop, show me that picture again," Madzistrale suddenly stopped him.

"The gory one?" Frank hesitated

"Only a masochist will look at gore; perfect opportunity to add stuff," Madzistrale grimaced, obviously not too thrilled at the idea of checking it out.

"Fine."

Frank clicked on the picture of a body, zoomed on a belly with a branding; Madzistrale squinted.

"Can you zoom again?"

Frank did so, and after a few seconds, Madzistrale let out a victorious cry.

"I knew it! The picture's fake!"

Frank sighed.

"They all say that."

"I don't, because I'm a hobbyist art photo-manipulator, and from my own mistakes, I can tell you from a mile away that they're not! The blood, the body, and the branding are all different resolutions. Look!" She pointed at various parts of the picture. "They attempted to make the branding as part of the belly wound; but the edges are smudged... a poor beginner's attempt to make a picture fit naturally within another. The blood's edges are way too sharp; it was made with a specialty digital brush, and they didn't set the sharpness right. In addition, the way the light hits all three images is completely different; another beginner's trait. Finally, the whole part where the three different images overlap are is wrongfully blurred."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Frank squinted while Tom smiled proudly.

"You can see all that!?"

"That's my Mad for you," Tom replied.

"So what are they after?" Madzistrale asked.

"Obviously a new ruler," Tom mused.

"Mind you, Bohm didn't execute any of his promises," Frank said gloomily. "It won't even surprise me if he's actually a Klavern."

"Don't be silly. You think a country will risk losing face by revealing that its President was a supremacist? Oh no. They're gaining something out of it," Madzistrale heatedly replied.

"Looks like the population doesn't think so," Frank continued to read the hateful replies.

"There you are: a country is now filled with riled-up citizens. So what would be the next move?" Tom asked.

A banner suddenly appeared on the screen, bold red letters underlying a screenshot of a video.

"We'll soon find out," Frank said, clicking on the banner.

A video began playing, and a serious-looking newscaster looked at the camera, standing in front of a white official building.

"We are live at this very moment for a very special event. Vice-President Carrie is standing and has informed us that he was ready to deliver a breaking news."

The camera switched to one placed in front of a desk, where a tired-looking man adjusted the microphone. His set eyes rose and he spoke in a manner which demonstrated decennium of diplomatic talks:

"I won't say 'good day', because these last few days have not been so. Ignorant as we all were, we allowed supremacy to hold the reign of a country. Where have we gone wrong? Easy. The same old trick: honey-coated lies, empty promises, and this time, a false sense of change that permitted a Klavern to opperate single-handedly the destiny of the citizens. Had not a handful of dedicated workers figured that something was terribly wrong..." Carrie sighed. "I don't dare think what mess we'd be finding ourselves into. Some tell me that foreign politics are dangerous... I've repeated this over and over: be careful of your own domestic politics.

>> This election was the perfect example; and even I got duped by those empty promises of change. So I ask: when not even popular votes; not even when the Council itself can trust in its instinct regarding presidential candidates... what do we do? Well, the only thing we can do: understand who is that lonely person that works hard making the right decisions. And believe me, that person is not me, is not any of those upfront Counsellors, not even your Representatives. No. It's someone who works harder than anyone in the shadows, whom no one acknowledge, and whom against all odds, facing the threat of losing one's job, rise up to do the right thing.

>> Citizens of Uni-States, I have known since this tragedy only one person fitting that description. I am thus acting upon the necessary need of overriding the Constitutional voting process brought upon by the state of emergency; and I am electing the one man that investigated and brought forward this corruption... Ex-Public Relations, Abraham Solomon!"

Upon loud applause, a tall handsome man opened the front door and joined Carrie by the podium, waving in a professional manner.

"OYE!! YOU!!!" Madzistrale let out a hateful shout, Frank jumping in surprise.

Tom laughed as his sister began to walk around, ranting ragefully at the screen:

"Oh no, oh no, don't you DARE! Not that... that... Psychopath! What are you, 5 year old IDIOTS?! What are you guys doing putting that... that... fart face as president??!!"

Frank looked at Tom, puzzled.

"What happened?"

Tom continued to laugh.

"We had... a taste of what his mentality was."

"I'll tell you what it was! A bloody psychopath with no heart, cruel and merciless, a truly deeply douch..."

Tom surprised her with a hug, and whispered to her calmly.

Frank looked at them, still puzzled, and closed the window just as Carrie announced that Solomon would address the crowd the next day. He began to read as new threads popped into first positions.

"Don't these people work?" he wondered out loud.

"Never," Tom confirmed half-jokingly.

"Looks like people are divided... 'Looks too good to be a President...', 'Finally a true difference!', 'Big Brother is playing a game...'; no idea what that means."

Madzistrale continued to fume, though she was a tad calmer.

"Can I go kick his ass?"

"Wait up, we don't know what he's actually up to!" Tom reminded her.

"He's a M.U.T.! That hot annoying lady and the android said so!"

"And how are we going to fight against that?" Tom replied. "The population won't know what we're talking about; and I bet this Carrie guy won't believe us one bit."

Madzistrale grunted.

"Wow," Frank interjected, "we're now at a debate whether Solomon is an Antichrist or not!"

"Typical," Madzistrale and Tom derisively said at the same time. "Whose argument is winning?"

Frank continued to read further.

"Both. Some say Solomon is a good guy that was an underground hero..."

"Pfft, idiots," Madzistrale heatedly replied.

"...while others think he's just a harmless scapegoat..."

"A scapegoat, yes..." Tom began.

"Harmless, NO!" Madzistrale spat.

Frank tried not to laugh at her anger as he continued:

"Here's an interesting way of thinking: 'he's too good-looking, it's for sure he's the Antichrist.'"

Madzistrale pretended to gag, while Tom tried his best to keep a straight face. Frank clicked on more links as constant notifications sounds played, signaling a mass amount of replied.

"Oh, one guy that I admire his philosophical ideas is mentioning that digging into Abraham Solomon during his era at the QOEC institute, revealed an interesting theory. That Solomon was accepted into a noble family that holds a fourteenth generation secret to an indisputable planetary and energetic cycle..."

Madzistrale and Tom's attention sparked up.

"What?!" she exclaimed, leaning over his shoulder to better read.

"Let's see... Loads of scepticism, as usual..."

"What do you mean, as usual? This is a load of bulls..."

"The guy's username is 'Khasmedai'," Tom interrupted her.

"Khashmedai? The djinn?" Madzistrale realized.

"Looks like it," Tom mused.

She looked at him blankly, almost annoyed.

"If you're thinking what I'm thinking... he lacks serious imagination."

"What are you two talking about?" Frank asked, equally annoyed at being left out.

"In legends, Khashmedai is a djinn, a Middle-Eastern demon/spirit, that King Solomon summoned," Madzistrale explained.

"So..."

"So that genius guy posting all those theories and replies is Abraham Solomon himself," Tom explained.

"But.. he was around way before the election," Frank reasoned.

Madzistrale stared at the username then asked Frank:

"The first time you told us about him, you said he was a thought-provoking teacher; and you're equally in awe of this user. What is he speaking of, usually?"

Frank thought:

"Mostly about the cycle of things, how people attempt to escape evolution and natural selection; how humanity has become a waste of resources, which I totally..."

"Agree with?!" Madzistrale interrupted, her eyes burning.

Frank hesitated.

"You've seen as well as I how humanity is. That guy is right: we have lost dignity, honour, grace... and at the end, even our ancient drive of leaving a mark in history of our accomplishments."

Madzistrale opened her miuth to retort, but Tom stopped her.

"How far do you think people more extreme than you will take this guy's suggestions?"

Frank realized the hidden meaning, and apprehension made its way to his expression. Tom smiled sadly, then began to pace the room.

"Why was Bohm taken out instead of being used until the end?"

"He didn't fit what they needed?" Madzistrale suggested.

"Then why not simply elect the person that would, just like now?"

Madzistrale thought as well.

"Because he was originally meant to."

"So instead, he found out about their plan and decided to do something against it."

"Why isn't he assassinated, like the whistleblower squadron?" Frank reasoned.

"Because they need him as a scapegoat to take everything out on him," Madzistrale explained.

Tom raised a finger.

"But let's not forget Solomon too is a scapegoat; that warrior's reactions just as clearly said it."

Madzistrale realized what he meant.

"So if Bohm is the scapegoat for the current situation, and Solomon is the scapegoat for what will happen in the next days..."

"We still have a hidden puppeteer somewhere," Frank understood.

"And who wanna bet Bohm discovered who it was?" Madzistrale smiled.

Tom's face grew darker.

"Worst than that. I don't need to bet that once the first stage is completed, they will take out Bohm. They just need him to stay imprisoned long enough for any necessary blames to be laid on him; once that step is done..." Tom slid his index across his throat.

Frank rose from his chair.

"We need to do something! Let's call someone, perhaps they can tell Carrie."

Tom smiled and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, we've got a better way. But I think we'll need your help again. Wanna do a protest?"

Frank's face became red.

"After last time's experience..."

Madzistrale put her hand on his other shoulder.

"I'll be there to protect you."

"What will you do, then?" Frank asked worryingly.

"Listen to what Solomon is planning as a President; then one of us go find Bohm and get him out, while you and Madzistrale try to wake some people up..."

"...so basically, it's not 'one of us', but 'you' go find Bohm," Madzistrale smirked.

"The protest will go better if a woman leads it; people will be either hesitant to attack you, or will be throughly humiliated by you if they do."

"And once you get Bohm..."

"...find out what he knows," Tom ended. He raised his two hands: "Ready for tomorrow, team?"

Madzistrale high-fived one of his hand, while Frank half-heartedly followed.