For All Nails #272: The North Lakehead By-Election

by Phoebe Barton

From the Dorchester Spectator, FN1 Page A11
4 July 1975


Richard Gautreaux, Spectator

QUEBEC CITY - The Legislative Assembly of Quebec observed a moment of silence yesterday morning after doctors confirmed that Michel Costello, Progressive Party Member for Pickering-Bayshore, died of injuries sustained in a recent airmobile crash over Lake Wolfe. The Quebec Elections Bureau has wasted no time organizing a by-election to fill his seat in the Legislative Assembly.

In a vitavised address late Thursday, Thomas Callaghan of the QEB announced July 25th as the date of Pickering-Bayshore's by-election. "Michel Costello was a man that will not be soon forgotten by his party and by his friends," Callaghan said during the address. "May his constituents find a man of of equal skill and principle to replace him."

Costello's airmobile disappeared from radio echoscope screens at Pickering Airpark early Wednesday morning, reportedly due to mechanical failure, and crash-landed less than one hundred yards FN2 from the lakeshore. The last radio contact with the airmobile was at 12:11 AM, when it was approximately six miles east of the airpark. Costello and the airmobile's pilot were rushed to Ste.-Marie Hospital with life-threatening injuries. Though the pilot is still alive as of press time, despite the best efforts of doctors Costello is reported to have died at 2:44 AM Thursday morning.

With only three weeks to organize their respective campaigns, the local party leaderships have begun to energize the electoral scene with uncharacteristic vigor. Former Costello deputy Philip Ribaud has been acclaimed as the Progressive Party's candidate, while shopkeeper Gaston Kelly has taken the nomination of the Bloc Patriotique. Alfred King, twice-defeated candidate for the Peace and Justice Party, said that the...

(Continued on Page 8)

Pickering, Quebec
5 July 1975

"I saw it again last night."

During the day Alan Fairfax missed the stars. Perhaps it was because the sunlight inexorably dragged life's responsibilities behind it as it rose. It could have been some sense of spiritual clarity that he was too busy to notice during the day. Right now, he was leaning towards the theory that the stars had the decency to shut up and be quiet when they were out.

"Really," Fairfax answered, staring into his tyroboard FN3 cup in the hopes that the world around him would go away, at least until he got some semblance of lucidity. "Woke up in another ditch, then? I'm sure that the alcohol on your breath was completely unrelated."

"You shouldn't be so sceptical," said Baxter Burgoyne Moore, sitting across the table and wearing an expression somewhere between 'energetic' and 'psychopathic.' Fairfax was ready to run if it started drifting towards the latter extreme. "You can't dismiss something that's happened to thousands of people out of hand."

"Sure I can," Fairfax said, waving his hand as if he was clearing bad air away from the conversation. "Dismiss, dismiss, dismiss."

It was a warm, pleasant day in Gallivan Park, but even the bright sunlight could not keep the lunatics out. Not even, Fairfax admitted, one Baxter Burgoyne Moore. In the eight years he'd known the man, he'd hardly known him to finish a conversation without dragging his pet obsession into the subject matter. Fairfax was hardly surprised by that, as Moore tended to look like he'd been deprived of so much sleep that he'd become accustomed to daytime hallucinations. That would certainly have explained a lot of his... theories.

"The concept of an open mind is lost on you," Moore said. "If you don't even listen to things that disagree with you, how can you make an informed decision?"

This was not going to end quietly, or well, in any case. There were, he realized, plenty of arguments for the path of least resistance.

"Fine then, Bax," Fairfax said, shaking his head. "Tell me. What was it that you saw again last night? Another UAC?" FN4

"It was another justice ship, from 36 Ophiuchi," said Moore, looking painfully serious. "One of the big ones this time, half the size of a stadium. They're getting really impatient with us."

"I assume you know this from the large sign on the side of their hull, right?"

"No, of course not!" Moore said. "Their mission is far too obvious to need any signage. Don't you see? If we keep ignoring them, sooner or later they're just going to decide to put us all on trial for the crimes of dead men!"

"Oh, so it's those ones again," Fairfax said. "Amazing that they don't care about, you know, all that wonderfully humanitarian stuff Mercator is up to in the East Indies."

"The Mexicans only killed a handful of corporatists and dupes," Moore replied. "We have the blood of millions on our hands. You can only expect them to have logical priorities."

"Ah, yes," Fairfax said. "So it's their priorities that are logical now."

"How can you be so blind to the truth?" Moore said, now gesticulating wildly as he spoke. "You of all people should realize it. After all, what do you think shot down that lady pilot you pulled out of the lake the other day?"

"Your capacity for deductive reasoning never ceases to amaze me," Fairfax said. "Of course Confav could never make a few poor engine parts. Whenever something happens it's always your aliens manipulating the event from on high."

"They're only trying to make us admit to the world how wrong we were," Moore said. "Frankly, I'd like to dig up that bastard Hogg and let all the justice fall on him. But he's probably getting his own desserts in hell from those millions he abandoned to die."

"Then write that up and submit it to the Indiana Historical Review," Fairfax said. "Who knows, maybe you can legitimize your mental state."

"It doesn't matter," Moore said, standing up suddenly. "None of it matters. The Justiciars are here now, and one way or another they'll make themselves known. Just be glad you had the early warning."

"I'm sure it'll save my life one day," Fairfax said, as Moore walked away. "Have a fine day."

He didn't hear Moore's reply, choosing instead to focus on the newspaper he unfolded before him. Illos first, of course, but his attention inexorably drifted to the more pressing news of the day. Still, he could hardly help from thinking about that lady pilot he'd pulled out of the water. Everything he'd heard said she was still in a coma. Once she was out, though...

"Who knows?" he said to himself, flipping the pages. "Maybe it was the aliens after all."

From the Pickering News and Inquirer, Page A4
16 July 1975


Timothy Pearson, Inquirer

Gaston Kelly, the chosen candidate of the Bloc Patriotique in the Pickering-Bayshore by-election, was given a substantial boost yesterday when Bloc leader Yves Ribaud said that "the Bloc Patriotique is ready to win... and [Kelly] will be on that road to victory."

"I'm honoured that the party leadership has such faith in me," Kelly said in response to the announcement. "I will do all I can to bring a new choice and a new mandate to the people of this constituency."

(KELLY continued on page A9)

Forward to FAN #273: Graduation Day.

Forward to 11 July 1975: Laylat al-Ragha'ib.

Forward to Alan Fairfax: Flyers and Fulcrums.

Return to For All Nails.

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