From: thanatos@interaccess.com (Timothy Toner)
Subject: The Caine Files (1 of 6)

To begin with, I have no clue why I was chosen to undertake
this momentous task.  Literally hundreds of Kindred more
profound, more worthy of the work at hand have chosen to
pass, and let sleeping dogs lay, as one put it.

Still, I am in a curious position.  Here, as I sit in the
cool dark chambers I call my home, I find myself
extraordinarily lucky. Never before, except when the Second
City rose above the dusty plain, have such a great assemblage
of minds met to discuss one thing:  the Progenitor.  And I
have been duly assigned the task of recording the momentous
words spoken here by my betters.

Perhaps a note of introduction.  I am Wilhelm, Prussian by
birth, and educated at Wittenburg, amongst the same dusty
halls that inspired Luther to rebellion.  When I was...alive,
I possessed great zeal, and quick wit.  I was also good
acquaintences with one Johann Schmidt, who, by no fault of
his own, proved to be my "downfall."

Schmidt was a small man, with a squeaky voice, but creator of
great ideas.  We would sit in his room, and discuss his grand
refutations of the great thinkers of the time, and I cajoled
him to no end to let his voice be heard, but it was all for
naught.  He was scared, frightened, intimidated by speaking
in public.  Still I listened, and tried to be the best friend
I could be.

One day, when sitting at the beerhall, listening to this
week's "great mind" prattle about the nature of God, death,
and the proper way to remove the head from beer, I heard
rumor that the Illuminati group, started by Adam Weisthaupt,
was travelling through town.  I had a simple solution to
Johann's problem.  They were a secret organization of great
thinkers, who seldom talked in public. Johann was a natural
for them.  I decided to refute the current speaker, based on
all Schmidt and I had discussed.

I stood up, and all eyes were on me.  Point by point, in the
manner of Johann, I tore apart the arguement of the speaker. 
Eventually, he was compelled to sit, amid a chorus of "booes"
levelled at him.

Had I been a good friend, or _sane,_ I would have stopped
right there, and given credit where credit was due.  But no;
so caught up in the passion of the moment was I, that I
delivered a goodly portion of Johann's arguements, and left
the stage amid a cheering house.

He came to me then, introducing himself as Ernst, and saying
he represented an organization which supported those like me,
those who were willing to fly in the face of the structured
norm, and grasp at freedom.  With a delicate hand gesture, he
asked me if I would like to join.  Thoughts of being one of
the Illuminati, one of the Chosen Ones raced in my skull, and
I committed foul treachery against a true friend by saying,
"Yes...with _all_ my life...YES!"

I paid for my sins in blood.

That was many, many years ago.  My deception was soon
discovered, and yet my newly acquired "friends" did not mind. 
They saw I was a powerful speaker, and a rabble rouser, and
most importantly, could discern the gold in the dross of the
average rant.  There were others, like Johann, in this
organization.  Those who had the ideas, but none of the
courage to speak out, and let them be known. I, then,
represented the best of them.

Because of my non-threatening stature, many invited me into
their confidence, and related to me their various theories on
existence. Whereas in the past, the chief concern had been
the nature of human existence, the change in _disposition_
we, as a species, had undergone, had changed the subject of
their lectures from musings on death, God, and the Human
plight, to speculations on unlife, Caine, and the Undying
Hunger.  Yes, I will speak such blasphemies openly.  We, as a
species, (though not a very natural one) tend to implicitly
see Caine, the First of Us, as a God.  We do not look to him
for salvation, just as we in life did not see God as
salvation enough for our burdened souls.  Rather, Caine is a
source of answers regarding who we are and why we exist.

It is ironic, tho, to realize that those of us cursed (or
blessed as some put it) with unlife, have actually surpassed
our own theories.  So many of us, obsessed with the
unknowables and intangibles, have crossed the veil into a new
existence, where the spectre of sudden, mortal death has been
eliminated entirely.  All we fear now is the sun, Root of
Life, Source of our Death, and the stake, driven by the
superstitious notions of peasants, who cannot dream but to
guess our true nature, the burning flame, which strangely now
appears in the forn of a thousand flickering gas jets,
bringing us comfort in the cooling night, and the Hunger.

Yes, I list the Hunger amongst our fears, for it is the only
thing that prevents us from completely crossing over beyond
the base desires of the Flesh.  The desire to reproduce, the
desire to feel in a sexual explosion, the desire to sate
one's thirst, and fill one's belly has been efficiently
comingled into a single entity: the desire to Feed.  Despite
this "efficiency," it is an irredeemable flaw amongst our
kind.  Here we are, postulating on our true nature, speaking
how we have surpassed frail human mortality in every
conceivable way, no longer having to toil in the fields for
food, or sweat and groan in the act of reproduction, when, as
the bell in the tower strikes three, we all skulk away, and
take from this world, what is not our by any right.  We can
pretend we are equalizers, taking from those who have
surplus, or taking from those for whome death is a release
from the pains of this realm, or even taking from those who
metaphorically take from others in the waking hours.  No
matter how we rationalize the act, we take without giving,
and that makes us lower than the fungus which rots the bread. 
For all we have done, for as far as we can go, we can go no
further.  We are tethered to the humanity from which we have
ascended.

I am told the orchid, most beautiful of flowers, is a
parasite, and the mistletoe, revered by pagans for its power,
was a leech to the life of its host.  In this, I can agree.
We Kindred are both beautiful and holy, rendered so because
it seems that like the orchid was once though, we feed off
the air.  Our keen intellects, no longer numbed by the
onrushing fury of death, have had ample opportunity to create
a facade so terribly different than the one the peasants
quailed from.  We become gods to them, gods in men's
clothing.  Something to be feared and revered.  We have
become the one thing that all of us in our lives have tried
to fight, the unknowable beast that causes men to bend their
knees on cold stone floors, and offer up silent words of
thanks to the immortal infinite silence.

I prattle on too long, and must return to the original tenor
of my message.  Why is this so?  Why have we come to be as we
are?  Are we truly demons, damned through no volition of our
own?  And, most significantly, can we reverse the process,
descending (or ascending) to the Throne of Humanity?  All
these questions can be summed up in one word:  Caine.

Such a simple word, with so many repercussions.

I have had opportuntiy to speak with four great minds, on
that very word, to see their insight on the matter.  Three
are supposed to be lost to the grave, and they would prefer
that their existence be concealed.  I can only tell you that
each is the paragon of their time, with an unique insight
into our nature that only their time could provide.  The
fourth is a child of this era.  I do not know why yet he has
not been Embraced, for his is an intellect to be preserved. 
I have only heard that there is a controversy whether or not
his fevered brain belongs with us, the Intellectuals, or with
the Crazies.  For one who has not passed over, he has an
uncanny grasp of our nature, and despite his occassional
lapses into an insane ranting that one of us has labelled
"nihilism," I think he would make an excellent addition to
our coterie.

Once, long ago, I cursed my cramping hand for forcing me to
cease my writings.  Now I must blame the climbing sun,
compelling me to sleep.  Tomorrow, I will discuss the first;
one who was born before the birth of Christ, in an area which
set the background for the study of Truth, in all its living
and unliving forms. 

thanatos@interaccess.com