What if the outcome of an election was never in the people's hands? Is it possible to rig the vote—and who’s controlling the system?
Ethan Moss watched the darkened skyline of Manhattan through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse. The city was a sprawling network of lights and movement, but to Moss, it was nothing more than a chessboard—his chessboard. Below, the pulse of democracy, the election season, throbbed through the streets. His operatives, scattered like invisible threads, were already at work.
The election was a matter of weeks away, and Moss had prepared for this moment for years. The technology, the algorithms, the satellite infrastructure—all designed for one purpose: to ensure that the political landscape bent to his will. He didn’t need an army. He had something better: control over information.
Maya Trent knew she was being watched. She could feel the weight of it in the pit of her stomach. Every time she walked into her office, every time she looked out of her apartment window, she had the sinking sensation that the eyes of the world were upon her. But those eyes weren’t hers to control, and that terrified her.
For years, Maya had worked in cybersecurity for the Department of Homeland Security, one of the best in the business. But no algorithm she had ever encountered could have prepared her for what she had uncovered: a signal anomaly buried deep in the voting machine software.
It started small. A discrepancy in vote counts in a small district. Then it spread—wider, deeper, harder to ignore. At first, she chalked it up to a software bug, but the anomalies didn’t behave like any software flaw she’d ever seen. They were too deliberate. Too precise.
After tracing the signal, Maya’s worst fear materialized. The anomalies were being routed through a satellite system—Moss’s satellite system. Solar Link. He was in control of the voting machines. And not just in one district. In every key swing state.
She thought of calling in the authorities, but who could she trust? Moss had his hands in everything—government contracts, defense projects, surveillance tech, media influence. It was too risky to go public. She had to act quickly and quietly.
The operation to neutralize Maya Trent had already begun by the time she made her move.
David Flint had once been Ethan Moss’s right-hand man, a trusted associate who helped build Solar Link into a global powerhouse. But when Moss had started expanding into more nefarious territory—manipulating elections, controlling public opinion, and stifling dissent—David had walked away. The guilt had eaten him up, but now he was paying the price. Moss had made sure of that.
David had been in hiding for two years, but now, he was in Maya’s crosshairs. She had managed to track him down, and after hours of convincing, he had agreed to help. Together, they were going to expose the Moss Protocol.
"I can't do this alone, David. You know the ins and outs of his system," Maya said, her voice a whisper over the phone. She could hear the fear in her own words, but she pushed it aside. Fear was a luxury she couldn't afford.
David hesitated. "Moss has eyes everywhere, Maya. Even if we manage to get close, we’ll never get out. He's already planned his endgame. He's been ahead of us from the start."
"Then we take away his advantage," Maya replied, her mind racing. She knew what she had to do. "We take down his satellite hub."
Two days later, Maya and David stood outside a nondescript building in the middle of Nevada’s high desert, a facility so remote that it wasn’t even listed on any maps. It was the nerve center of Moss’s operation—the control station for his satellite system.
Maya keyed in a sequence of numbers into the security panel, disabling the alarm. It was a challenge she had faced many times before, but this time felt different. This time, the stakes were higher.
Inside, they encountered a series of high-tech security measures—biometric scans, facial recognition, motion sensors. But David knew the backdoors, the bypass codes. Each layer of security fell away, piece by piece, until they reached the heart of the operation: a massive server room, humming with activity.
“This is it,” Maya said, glancing at David.
“Don’t just stare at it. Get to work,” he snapped, already making his way to the nearest terminal.
She moved quickly, logging into the main system. The first file she found was encrypted, but she’d come prepared. Her fingers flew over the keys as she decrypted it, exposing the code that controlled the manipulation algorithms. There, buried deep within, was the proof: Moss’s software embedded into every voting machine.
But as she was about to copy the data, an alert flashed on the screen. A message from Moss.
“You should have stayed out of this, Maya. You’ve already lost.”
The walls suddenly vibrated with the sound of a helicopter, its whirling blades deafening. Then came the sound of boots on the ground. Moss’s mercenaries were closing in.
"Get the data!" Maya shouted as she bolted toward the exit. David was already ahead, but the security guards were too fast. A gunshot rang out, followed by a hiss of compressed air. Maya felt the sharp sting of a dart in her neck. She barely managed to steady herself before her vision blurred and her legs gave way.
When Maya woke up, she was in a cold, dimly lit room. Her hands were bound. She struggled against the ropes, trying to focus through the haze of the sedative. David stood in front of her, a shadow of his former self, his eyes hollow.
“You didn’t think it was going to be that easy, did you?” Moss’s voice echoed through the room, amplified by the speakers. “You’ve been playing right into my hands from the very beginning. The Moss Protocol is foolproof.”
Maya’s heart sank as she realized the full extent of Moss’s plan. It wasn’t just about controlling elections anymore. It was about control, period. The algorithms he had deployed were just the beginning. Moss had embedded himself into every layer of power—media, government, military. There was no escaping him.
But as Moss’s voice continued to taunt them, Maya’s mind raced. She knew Moss’s operation better than he realized. And she had one final card to play.
“David,” she whispered, a plan forming in her mind. "We may have lost the battle... but the war isn’t over.”
With a final glance at the terminal still connected to Moss’s satellite network, she pressed a hidden button on her wristband.
Moss had underestimated the one thing he couldn’t control: her.
As the satellite system went dark, Ethan Moss’s empire began to crumble.
The End... Or is it?
A fictional story by Belle Webb | Profile
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