Like every night that she had known, it was cold and windy, and the broken windows did little to shut out the chill or the sounds of the streets.  Even in the very latest of the hours people could be heard moving around, searching for fuel, looking for a home, still pursuing a dream that was long dead.  Lana looked out through what was left of the glass and saw the stars twinkle, a constant reminder of the distance between this world and divinity.  It had been like this for as long as she could remember, the cold, the dark, the stars, but then she didn't even know how far back her memory reached anymore. Perhaps it had only been a few days, then again, it could have been months, but she knew that life hadn't always been like this, and she hadn't always been in the empty room.  She knew that there were others, and they must have had some food, for every morning some appeared next to her bed.  They came to take it away when she slept was all that she could reason, since the tray was always fresh when she awake.      Tonight would be different though.  She had gotten most of her stregth back, even when she wasn't pacing the floor she could feel her muscles move under her control, the sickness that shaded her memory had lost the battle over her body.  She had actually had the strength to move from the tattered bed yesterday, and since then she hadn't been able to sit still.  Perhaps it was the memory of having no other choice that to let others take care of her, but whatever the reason, Lana felt it was time she learned more about her benefactors.        Faint echoes of voices found the brunette's ears, and they weren't from the scavenging people below.  Quickly, Lana jumped back into bed and slowed her breating, nothing would let them know that she was awake.  For two days all that she could think about was finding the answers to all of her questions.  Why was it that she could  the world's history and not her own? How had she gotten here, where she clearly did not belong?  And what did the people taking care of her want for their ministrations?  She knew of the sickness that had almost killed her, but yet she didn't remember ever hearing of a cure.        So many thoughts rushed around Lana's head she could barely hear the footsteps as they entered the room.  There were two sets of feet, walking at an almost identical pace, difficult to tell apart, yet she could feel the presence of two people.  Before she could stop herself, her muscles betrayed her.  A slight flinch was all the two strangers needed to be warned of their patient's state of wakefulness.       "There's no sense in continuing to pretend that you're sleeping.  We would have woken you up tonight anyho9w, but since you've saved us the trouble you might as well sit up."       The voice did not sounds very far, and the tinge of impatience urged Lana to a sitting position just a bit faster.  Before she even opened her eyes, she felt the light caress her lids.  Blinking quickly, she got her first look at the newcomers.  The first figure was a much taller, obviously male just by looking at the shoulders.  Red hair with its flashes of silver was his most striking characterisitc.  His eyes were more in the shadows, but even so, an honest look could not be hidden.  The second figure was much slighter, with their head barely reaching the man's shoulders.  It was obvious that the man had spoken earlier, so Lana directed her attention towared him.      "My name is Bannon. I'm assuming that you're feeling much better?", Bannon barely waited for Lana's nod of assu4rance, " I suppose we have a lot to tell you, but if you give us a chance, you may be surprised."      So far the couple had not given Lana any reason not to trust them, and her lack of movement seemed signal eough for the man to continue.       "Your name is Lana Oden.  A month ago you contracted Ilya's Syndrome, a result of the monitoring device overloading.  Of course, that's not what some people want you to believe, rather they say that it is an act of God, but that's not the point.  Your parents knew better and they brought you to us.  They knew the price, and for your life, you died."      Lana shook her head.  The last statement disturbed her.  Even though she couldn't remember her parents, she knew of stories about a group that did not believe in the Church's power, or the government's ability to take care of her country.  They had no real name, she had only heard of them spoken of in hushed tones.  couldn't it have been her family that she had heard? The faces were gone, but at least she could still hear those whispers, damning the group and their leaders for blasphemy and anarchy.     "When can I go home?, " Lana asked the question tentatively, afreaid of the answer she already knew.
		A Different Beginning to a Different Story?