ELECTION STEAL

RAY STINSON

ELECTION STEAL

This book is a work of pure fiction.  

Names, places, characters, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination, or used fictitiously. 

Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locations is entirely coincidental.  

Copyright © 2023.  

Raymond F.W. Stinson 

All rights reserved

Introduction.

Mother Earth is suffering, with many species now extinct. 

Oceans are waste dumps, denuded of life. 

Forests are destroyed daily, lands degraded, whilst the world's population keeps exploding.

Within the next generation the population will explode to thirty-two million, food will become scarcer, life will be harder. 

Nuclear war creeps forever nearer, driven by maniacal despots. 

There is an Election, in Australia. 

The majority of politicians care for little, except the desire to hold on to power at all costs. 

This will be the experiment, a small beginning, that over time could change the direction of the world. 

One man has the strength, the planning, and unlimited resources, but can he win against great odds and history? 

Failure will seal the eventual fate of the planet, and Humankind will cease to exist within two generations. 

This novel is too close to the truth not to be worrying. 

It is a mixture of satire, political will and ineptitude, a fight between good and evil, and an answer that could possibly save humanity, but at what cost? 

This novel could well be different to any you have read before, you may not agree, or even like it, but it will certainly leave you thinking. Many parts of are based loosely on known facts.  

THE DIVINE CREATIONISTS

Frederick Alexander Groydon was one of the first Europeans to find their way to the top end of Australia, this was in the winter of 1812. It was unfortunate that he was illiterate and had never learnt to write anything other than his name.  

This amazing man had travelled from Norfolk Island after escaping incarceration on that remote land space out in the Pacific, he was the only prisoner who ever escaped that hell hole, the only other way out was a grave amongst the pines.  

There is no history of how he escaped. 

He disappeared from the face of the planet for more than four years, and was believed to have suffered the fate of many convicts, that was starvation and death, it was a tough land to survive in for a white feller. 

Groydon was then reported to have reappeared at a white settlement on Thursday Island, with a story which would put him into the category of a madman. 

The story he told, was that he made it eventually into the Northern Territory, where he would unlikely be found by the authorities. Close to death, he was saved by a small group of white skinned people who were clinging to a dying civilisation, this was in a very remote part of Arnhem Land. 

He had never seen the like of them before. 

They were tiny, little more than a metre high, and seemingly without an individual gender. Early on he realised they were transmitting thoughts to him, and one of these informed him they had been in this land for an exceptionally long time, eons before the Aborigines had arrived. 

Amazingly they appeared to have been there since time began. 

It was odd to Fred, the way they communicated with each other, without speaking or sign, and later he became aware of more strange thoughts being conveyed into his head, they obviously came from the tribe itself, in a language he knew.  

He was alone and took onboard this miracle without understanding it. Yet when he tried to speak with them they ignored him, as if he didn’t exist. 

They lived in small stone houses which appeared to blend and disappear into the landscape, it was another marvel, one moment he would be looking at a single-story house, then suddenly it wouldn’t be there, leaving only the dust, sand, and rocks. 

During his time with the tribe he never once entered any of these houses, instead he had been billeted in what was no more than a cave, albeit a clean and dry one. 

This small tribe had some kind of tablet they would use, every member had one, but Fred was unable to know exactly how many there were, as every one of them looked alike. The only perceivable difference was that two of them wore blue robes, whilst the others wore a type of glimmering gossamer white, they appeared cloud like.  

It was his understanding that he’d become lost somewhere around the Goyder and Walker Rivers Region, the area was huge and otherwise uninhabited, but in reality he didn’t have any idea where he was. 

He stayed with the tribe for over three years.  

Fred tried following them around, they didn’t discourage him, or threaten him, they only continued to ignore him, like an old mongrel dog. They were otherwise good towards him, he always had food and water delivered, and they often gave him another concoction to drink, this sent him away into crazy dreams and adventures inside his head. 

He got to enjoy these episodes, and lived life quite comfortably, he would always remember these as happy days, the only ones of his otherwise sad and desperate life. 

One evening the two blue robes came to visit him in his cave, sitting together in a circle on the sandy floor. They looked at him, staring into his eyes, and slowly, just slowly, the doors of perception began to open for him. 

The story that flowed into him was one of the creation itself, the real beginning of time, when no creatures appeared on the planet, nothing lived, no plants, no animals, no fish, it was a barren land of silence trapped within a void.

Then he saw millions upon millions of beings that looked exactly like the ones from the tribe, they travelled far and wide across the planet, and wherever they appeared so did plants and animals, the trees began to grow, the grasses flourished, birds took to the sky. 

They sailed in fabulous boats across the seas, leaving in their wake whales, dolphins, turtles, fish of all different sizes and shapes, things that swam and crawled and wavered in the currents, the oceans and seas began to fill up with vibrant and luxurious life. 

Every one of these shrouded luminous figures wore around their neck a strange symbol, it appeared to Fred like a circle of gold, and inside were triangles, with five tips touching the edge of the circle, and encased in the middle was a picture of the most beautiful person he had ever seen. 

He was stunned, was this possibly the truth, of how his world had begun? 

Then one of the pair removed their necklace and slipped it over Freds head, he felt honoured and excited, surely this wasn’t meant to be his, he had never owned anything in his life apart from a few rags.  

Holding it in his cupped hands he relished its beauty, it was truly a wonderful work of art, but he was unable to differentiate if the picture depicted a female, male, or even some other creature, but there was a smile that embraced you, and sparkling eyes that captivated you. 

It was as though he had become one of the tribe, this was truly the happiest moment of his life. 

The following morning he woke to the first rays of the sun, got up, and went to the opening of his cave. There was nothing, he was standing in a desert of emptiness, the tribe had disappeared. 

He still wore the treasured necklace but looking down at the gold pendant he saw the picture had disappeared. Fred then had a strange and foreboding feeling, that somehow, he had come across the last of the creationists, and they had been waiting for change that would never come. He then began to understand they were the ones that had first conceived, and built, an earthly paradise, called Earth.  

Then somehow things had gone wrong, human beings appeared, and slowly began to waste, pollute, and decimate the very home they lived in, something had gone awry, they were like no other species alive, intent on fulfilling their own destiny of destruction, and that of every other living thing around them. 

The last of the tribe had hung on with hope that there would be a transformation, and they could somehow help bring the earth back to life, until they concluded that if they suddenly appeared amongst Homo Sapiens they would suffer only cruelty, humiliation, and death.  

It was the pure arrogance, self-importance, and greed of humans that would herald the final elimination of themselves and their home, and with the tribe's final departure the earth had taken the last road to annihilation. 

Fred knew all this, it had been transmitted to him, and with all his heart he knew this to be the truth.

Yet it would be him alone who had this knowledge, and if he ever told anybody he would likely be declared mad, hung, or locked away forever. For sadly the intellect of humanity was forever shrinking, and the money drivers had long been in control, continuously feeding their rapturous insatiable greed century after century. 

A few days later a small group of soldiers appeared, they had been searching for natives so they could capture or kill them, it didn’t seem to matter which. 

Fred had to surrender to them, or otherwise starve. 

He was taken to Raffles Bay on the Coburg Peninsula, and was very weak and prone to hallucinations. No one knew what to do with him, at first he was locked up in a small cell, but then the authorities were encouraged to move him to what was a hospital, mostly a larger cell but without bars. 

The instigator of this was a newly arrived Irish surgeon called John White, he had dabbled in the beginnings of psychiatry, and was interested in this newcomer as someone he could experiment with. 

He befriended Fred, at first as an interesting study, then as a man who had a strange and wonderful story to tell.  

Initially the surgeon believed it was a very clever flight of fancy, but Fred knew the only way he could substantiate his story was to produce the golden symbolised necklace, within the outside circle the surgeon recognised it was a pentangle.  

There was also a small inner circle, and a delicate plate which appeared to have once held a picture. 

Using a magnifier he saw engraved delicately and beautifully around this plate was a stylised relief of woodland spirits, and tiny bizarre animals he had never seen before. 

The surgeon was overcome when he first saw it, looking very much like gold it was as fresh and beautiful as the day it had been created, its small beauty was overwhelming. 

How had a man like Fred come across it? 

The surgeon started to diarise Freds story, it was fascinating, and in many ways believable, he was now in a country that held strange creatures he had never dreamt of, and apart from being a surgeon he was also an amateur botanist and zoologist, everything around him he found fascinating. 

He spent many hours with the prisoner, writing down every scrap of information, and every day he would ask to see the necklace that Fred wore, and drooled at its wonder. 

The surgeon was also aware of a small, almost transparent, being, of Aramaic origin, that is believed to be the deity that populated the earth. There were many early writings that alluded to the Jinn, and the story was totally different to the Christian belief of only one God, who spent seven days to achieve the same result.

John White forever had an open mind, and wondered if these creatures were the same as Fred had described, and if so it was amazing to believe they could still exist somewhere on the planet, yet he knew anything is possible.

Then came the day when John White believed he had gotten everything he could out of the prisoner, the vessel was now dry. 

Fred Groydon wouldn’t be at the settlement for much longer, a few days after he had finished relating his story he again disappeared, his time it was for good. His grotesquely disfigured body was found soon after washed up upon the shore.  

The constable called upon the help of the surgeon to assist in discovering who the man was, and the mode of the poor man's death. Fred had not died peacefully, his body had been horribly mutilated, he had been tortured, had limbs missing, his ears had been cut off, his tongue was gone, and so were his genitals. 

His death must have been excruciating. 

The surgeon was a meticulous man, he knew the deceased man’s claims, and eventually confirmed his identity, but could not understand why he had died in such a way. He truly felt sorry for this man who had lived a tough and cruel life, but for a moment in time had experienced something no other living person had ever known. 

During their chats the surgeon had been convinced he was telling the truth as he knew it, and it was lucky that Fred had finally trusted the surgeon to look after the pendant for him, no other person knew he had it, and upon reflection maybe Fred did have a premonition of his coming death. 

John White became a wealthy and much respected man, and lived to the unusually old age of ninety-eight. His writings, stories, and observations, became legendary, and when he died they found him at peace in his bed, clutching the strange gold pendant. He had died a happy and contented soul. The name of Frederick R. Groydon quickly disappeared into the mists of history.  

There was now only one man who still knew the story, and in a strange and convoluted way he now had ownership of the strange gold pendant which resided inside a huge, and extremely secure, safe.

THE PRIEST

It was cold in South Australia this July.

Sebastian Camilleri sat in the freezing grey room unaware of the world about him. The space was large and sat at the side of the main body of the Church of St Liam.  

There was no window to reflect the day, the walls were painted cream, the large desk was old and worn, and his chair lumpy and uncomfortable. Neither was there the luxury of carpet on the floor, only cold and cracked slate pavers.  

Around him were bookshelves crammed full of leaflets, journals, magazines, old newspapers, and books of different ages and condition.

At the desk Sebastian worked with his head down amongst a landscape of paper which flowed around him in small hills, valleys, and mountains. A small boy could have fun with an army of toy soldiers on this huge desk.  

Sebastian was an old man, he knew this but didn’t recognise it. To him age did not exist, he never acknowledged that one day he would no longer breathe, walk, or talk, because he believed in another destiny. He had spent so much of his life amongst history that he had become part of it.  

At eighty-six he still failed to accept his body could be getting weaker, he knew he was eighty-six, it was a number, and meaningless, and he never dwelt upon it. Sebastian still walked with his long frame kept upright, and recognised the longer he lived the less he knew, and the more he needed to know.  

He hovered over the desk wrapped in his long brown cloak, scarf wrapped about his head like a guerrilla fighter, and lost deep in his own thoughts. This could have been a scene from the sixteenth century, excepting there was electric light, and on a table behind him sat three computers, a copier, and two mobiles. He had long ago recognised the benefits of the modern world, knew as much about technology as any self-respecting fifteen year old, and had become a hacker. 

The priest knew the internet as you would know a young lover, he daily searched its secrets, was constantly amazed, and worked at staying elusive. 

Sebastian Camilleri was born in Malta and had been involved with the church since his first memory. He had lived and worked in numerous places of the world, including the Vatican, yet now he was a priest by name only, it was many years since he had administered to his fellow Catholics.  

His knowledge of the church and its history was unique, and many had sought out his advice, and appreciated his obvious wisdom.  

Now he continued to work hard, was independent, and had been given access to the huge resources the Lord’s House could muster, to him the church was nothing more than a provider. 

The few souls left who knew him well would trust him explicitly, because Sebastian had started his life’s work many years ago, and it was a dedication that saw him overcome fear and danger, because Sebastian was looking for a Satan.  

It was not the image of a horned animal and forked tail that he was pursuing, it was the one embodiment of evil that still pervaded the earth and had done so since time began. The priest was trying to find the purpose, why there was evil in the world, what caused those few men and women to become possessed with this intent, and was there somehow a link, something that gave a connection.  

Repeatedly he had come across individuals who had enjoyed remarkable success, and had achieved fame and wealth, yet if you looked past the surface there was some personal tragedy, as though they had given away something to get to where they were.  

His research did not involve the normal wrong doer, the average murderer or rapist. Although those things were cruel in themselves, he wanted to know if there was some hidden force behind evil and power, and for a long time be believed he knew the answer. 

But how powerful was the source Sebastian did not know, had never known, and he was convinced he may only find out when it was too late. 

Since mankind had arrived on earth there had been evil and malicious intent, where all around there was beauty, goodness, and survival. To Sebastian Mother Earth had always been a beautiful place, all life forms other than man lived only to survive, and at this moment he was piecing together the life of one Peter Johnson, the name the chameleon currently used.  

The old priest put down his pen, the winter chill from Antartica was whipping around the loose glass of the old church, it was quiet in this cold room, but the freezing temperature would not affect him, he was too absorbed in his quest.  

For this is how he viewed his work, it was a lifetimes journey to find answers, the only answer, why we are as we are, and what changed to bring evil into the hearts of men and women.  

Sebastian knew Peter Johnson, and was beginning to think that, not for the first time, he had found a link.  

If the impossible was to be believed Peter Johnson, in various forms, could go back a few hundred years, it may not be the same person, but there was something there that created a thread, a very strong and robust thread. 

The Internet had opened a lot more possibilities than merely Facebook, it had created another esoteric dimension, and was akin to looking into a black hole. Inside, somewhere, was the myriad of answers to questions that had bewildered humanity for eons.

It was as though this profound maze had been created by another entity. Often the answers were hidden, then seemingly appeared without a link, as though there was some presence scattering odd tidbits throughout the universe like confetti.

Then there was the dark web, where things could be found if you looked hard enough, once again information without any recognisable source, yes it was certainly as though some unknown force was placing clues for those that wished to find them, and the priest had a firm belief it was the true presence of God. 

There was a faint murmur from one of his computers. Sebastian turned around and stared at the monitor, it was a shadowy luminous green, and moving in and out of focus was a wavering image of the Jerusalem cross, this was his own personal firewall, and somebody was trying to access his hard drive.

The cross came back into focus, huge on the forty-inch flat screen, and as Sebastian watched it began to disintegrate, crumbling from the sides, as though it was being burnt away.  

He moved quickly, tugged the plug from the power socket, and ripped out the phone connection. The man was always ready for this, all he had to do was to stay ahead of the game, because this was all he knew.  

Sitting back down at the desk he realised it was time to go, by tonight he had to disappear, it was long overdue, somehow, somewhere, they would otherwise pick up his trail. 

The problem was, when he discovered the truth, would anybody ever believe him, and if not, he had to try and do the other thing, not because he wanted to, but for what he believed to be the forlorn sake of humanity, and mother earth herself.  

He often wished he wasn’t so alone, and feared he wouldn’t have the strength when he most needed it. Yet, unbeknown to him, if he were successful, it could mean the very end of human existence, and there would be no turning back from the downhill slope to oblivion.

Because, for many years, Sebastian had been blinded to reality, never understanding the dividing line between good and evil, and the reason why it had to be this way.

BEGINNING

It had taken many years of research, and countless long hard hours, to put the project into place. 

There were sixty on the technical team, each one had an impeccable history in their current genre, all lived for the faith, many were indoctrinated from birth. They had to be far better than computer literate, and needed to dig away in places people never knew existed, the web was their plaything, and nothing was beyond their grasping tentacles. Many were gamers, some were hackers, and all of them were exceptionally smart. 

Their creed had been the Internet, its betrayals, and opportunities, none of them had known any other life. The group believed in what they were doing, not one single leak would occur, and all worked alone.

They were promised everything for success, and knew there could be a price for failure, becoming martyrs for the cause. Each of the operatives had a supervisor, a controller, no one knew who they were, it was Christian names or pseudonyms, there was no need for any other, and they were spread over many parts of Australia. 

One of the hackers, Mary Fitzgerald, full of tatts and piercings, had already been in amongst the accounts of the current PM, Jonathon Luke Tennyson, expecting to find more than she did. She was surprised, he didn’t have a great deal of money at all, unless it was cash under the mattress, which most likely it was. 

Still, he had only been at the top for a brief time, the vault doors would no doubt open for him shortly, someone with a few more brains may have to show him the way though.  

So why did Mary do it, because she could that’s all, and her job was to investigate the finances of every sitting member in the Australian Federal Parliament, it was fun to her, a wonderful way to earn a very good living. 

The man, currently known as Peter Johnson, oversaw the results daily, he knew there was only one way, and that was to win, no matter the cost, nothing else mattered, because life on the planet was at stake. 

Stature wise Peter was quite small, his hair had disappeared, his dome shone in the light. He was beyond fit, not an ounce of fat, and was surprisingly strong. But what captivated you was his eyes, he could turn you into a jelly or a king.

Peter knew about control, could make you want to love or hate him, he was a man you would never take for granted, and he could be many things to many people. 

There wasn’t a budget, never would be a budget, the bucket was bottomless, money meant nothing to a couple of extraordinarily rich sheiks, oil money was everywhere, and they were happy to help a brother.  

Peter knew it was merely a means to an end, and the end was totally justifiable. Failing could not be an option, because the alternative didn’t bear thinking about. 

Peter Johnson was determined to steal the forthcoming election. 

He had lived an awfully long time, and like shifting sands in the wind the changes had occurred often, and he knew the concept of Satan, as an entity of evil, was a long way from the truth.

How many people had been killed in the name of Satan, compared to those killed in the name of Christ, and slaughter in the name of God justifies everything, this he knew. 

Most religions layered their doctrines upon the innocent, and relied solely upon the gullibility of its followers, yet not one word of any belief system has been written by anybody, or anything, other than a human being.  

He knew religion had always been, and always will be, about control, indeed the domination of the hearts, minds, and actions of others, and people are often dictated to from the moment they are born. 

In truth he knew there had been more evil carried out in the name of religious beliefs, and the sanctification of ideals, than by any other cause or effect. The only entity that allows you to be truly human, and be the person you should be, is the understanding of the Satan, but a different Satan as that defined by others, the word was truly a misnomer, because doctrines liked control, freedom of thought was their enemy. 

Peter understood that Satan, as an entity, didn’t exist, along with the Gods, Angels, and all the other magical beings which are supposedly controlled from somewhere above, or below you. 

The real power, the true enhancement for humanity, comes by giving people the opportunity to be who they wish to be, it’s a simple concept corrupted only by the introduction of doctrines. 

Humans are born with goodwill, it is only later they can be corrupted.

True power is to have a group with personal ideals that work alongside each other for the greater good. This, combined with the strength that comes from knowing the earth and its inhabitants, and thinking outside all the confused paraphernalia that’s been laid down throughout time, is the ideal. 

There was also something else Peter Johnson knew, and that was the eternal truth about creation, why the planet existed at all, and how homo sapiens had become a plague ready to destroy the very home they live in, he knew this, so did many others, unconsciously or not. 

Time was running out, the growing suicidal rates were a small sign of the increasing dysfunction, and if things didn’t change soon Armageddon would arrive on the planet in all its destructive force, and it would be laid squarely at the feet of those that lived upon it. 

It was akin to burning down your own house with your loved ones trapped inside, and Peter knew it was beyond the time to put in the correction. 

Peter Johnson knew about Sebastian Camilleri, the ageing priest who had a profound conviction and belief in God, Jesus, and the Saints, he had been aware of him for a very long time, and to him it was a woebegone direction that the man had pursued.

Still, in some ways, Peter respected the man, despite knowing that he followed through with the centuries old believes, ones that had done nothing to enhance human destiny.

Sebastian was much more than a priest, a man of God, an Ecclesiastical Divinity, because by virtue of his knowledge and capability there was a chance he could thwart the very saving of the humanity he was purported to love, for he honestly believed it was time for mankind to be eliminated, to be brought to account, and allow the true believers to rise and secure their rightful place in the promised land, one that was called Arcadia. 

The priest envisaged the day when those enlightened souls would ascend from their resting places, and move as one to the true heaven, he dreamt of those millions being released, to join the father in the holiest of places. He had always believed the Christian testaments, especially where it refers to the second coming of Christ, to him it was a forthcoming fact. 

‘For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the Archangel’s call, and with the sound of God’s trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them, to meet the Lord in the air, then we will be with him forever.’ 

That would be the end of time, the last Judgement Day, and those that are not lifted up will be subjected to eternal punishment and ultimate destruction.

This was written by a man who long ago was put into a grave, and if this had been penned today, it would be listed with other works under the banner of ‘Fantasy.’ 

Sebastian Camilleri believed the time was coming soon, very soon, because he had spent his life to the devotion of faith, and the pursuit of the truth, and now he had been rewarded, he had spoken again with his Lord, he was to be the chosen one to expedite this tribunal of penance.

Yet he was worried, he perceived that, for a millennium, there had been a growing evil enveloping humankind, and it was becoming stronger, he felt its presence, and if its strength became efficacious, he knew the promise of Judgement Day would never happen, his long life would have been atrophied, and the perceived life of Christ would be crushed.

All would be obliterated into the mists of history. 

His path had been narrow, and never straight, his blinkered eyes had yet to comprehend, or recognise, from whence this true nefarious power emanated, yet it wouldn’t be a concern for him for much longer.

Ultimately everyone leaves the stage, cold and wasted inside a box, or a ceramic jar.

THE ELECTION 

The election was in Australia, Peter knew when it would be held. Millions of dollars had been spent on a strategy that could see a new party win this election, and if it happened, they would never have to win another, at least not in Australia.  

The name of his party was the All Australians United Party, known as the AAUP, in a very short time everyone would know who they were. 

They searched for electorates that were open to challenge, a twenty percent margin in a blue-ribbon seat was a long way down the list, but every Federal Electorate would be studied, every second of the sitting members past would be investigated, their current financials would be dug up, everything about them would be documented, and there would be