Pool_1

all that dancing around... damn." Shaking her head, "I think this is divine intervention. Maybe we were premature. You know? This is actually a better time. More people are aware now. People are on to the HMOs now. They know. We don't need to tell them facts. Everybody knows. What we need to do is lead an uprising. We need a legal mechanism. I think, really, five years ago, nobody would have listened... let alone give a shit. Even three years ago, their arguments sounded so genuine. So un-made up." Mac relived a transient recollection, "Like a newspaper article about a children's art event that occurred last week," keeping the deeper meaning of this thought to himself. "Well, uh, yeah, I guess. Like that," Shannon allowed, accustomed to his disconnected comparisons, then watched as that beast of his took over. She knew to give him some space when that sulking furrowed brow and far away look set in. Besides, she needed her own time to contemplate this new development and sipped her coffee quietly for a few minutes, jotting notes, then entered his dream with a nudge. "Care to share?". As if from nowhere, a low octave reply drawing from nothing said before, growled out "It's not about isms. ... It's about power." His voice was echoic, and far away, different, scary. Shannon made her stock 'anybody-home?' gesture to which he wasn't responding but, instead, continuing his deep rumble. "Power is power. You put it here or put it there, it is still power. They decorate it for public consumption, but it is just power. Attila was the most honest power broker. He never put a veneer of philosophy on his power. Smite and kill. Smite and kill. Kill and plunder.. No isms. No bull shit. Power. Pure power. Attila did what he did because he wanted to do what he did and because he