They were wounded at birth with a slap and a poke. Given poison for safety. Keep the Empire intact, Purposely creating drones
by a school system that squelches the enthusiasm for living, dancing and play. Those who play are obvious targets for the great cull planned for the coming season. Election Officers high on Diet Pepsi and pharmaceutical coke. Another stolen election. So much for the pretence of Democracy. It could now be called for certain, Demonocracy. Utter confusion and mayhem planned. The Masters wring their hands with sinister glee. Vampires? They wish. They are not immortal to the future of Earth , except they will be lost on the realm that they dreamed into place, a killing field were they will gag as their guts burst open from the poison they sold.
The poisoned ones were offered the antidote of truth. They rejected it because of their ignorant reflex. They will be the masters in Hell. The masters of the Dead Hand will be the minions for what will appear, to them, as Eternity.