nutters?” asked Laura.
The woman chuckled. “No, but the original protestors were right, which is why they were quickly taken over by the unions and others, so their message could be distorted.”
Acton sighed. “Okay, I’ll bite. How were the original protestors right?”
“America. Is. Owned.” With each word, her eyes narrowed more. She leaned back. “Think about it. The average American doesn’t donate to a political party or candidate. They can’t afford to. Those that do, contribute a little bit, maybe a few hundred, even a few thousand dollars. That can’t run a campaign. It costs a billion dollars to run for president today. That doesn’t count all the Senate and House seats. Or governors, state senators, judges, sheriffs, district attorneys, etcetera, etcetera. Every few years, your entire country is bought, over and over, by big business. Only they can afford to donate the millions, even tens of millions, needed to win. And now with your Super PACs.” She tossed her head back and laughed. “Even your own Supreme Court is owned! What kind of moron can seriously think that a corporation has the same rights as a human being? Until Texas puts a corporation to death, I think we can safely say they aren’t human.”
“So there’s a huge amount of money involved. It’s always been that way. It’s that way in every country.”
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong. Many countries limit people’s donations, and in many cases no companies or unions can contribute, only citizens.” She scratched her head with the barrel of her gun. “Think about this. If you donate a thousand dollars to your Senator’s campaign, and she”—she pointed at Laura—“a part of the uber-rich elite, donates ten million, who’s phone call do you think he’s going to take? I think we all know the answer to that.” She jabbed the air with her gun, emphasizing each point. “And, when she says she wants him to vote a certain way on an upcoming bill, she merely threatens to not donate to his campaign at reelection time. And since your election cycles are so short, your politicians are in constant campaign mode. They can’t risk losing the big donors, so they do their bidding.” She sat back and threw her hands in the air. “So, your government is owned. From the top elected official, right down to the bottom. And it’s only getting worse.”
Acton had to admit the woman had some good points. But he wasn’t here to listen to conspiracy theories or debate campaign finance reform. Of course big money should be taken out of it. Any sane person understood that. But just try getting that kind of reform through Congress. It would never happen. Because they’re owned. He shook his head. He had to focus on the problem at hand.
“Thanks for the civics lesson. Now, once again I ask, how are we supposed to get the book?”
“As I said, you are archaeologists, not police detectives. There is only one reason you are being brought in, and that is to examine something of archaeological interest. You must use this opportunity to find the gospel, and return it to us.”
“And what will you do with it then?”
“Release it for the world to see. To see what has been hidden from them for thousands of years.” She leaned forward, scratching her ankle with the barrel of the gun. “And destroy the foundation of the Roman Catholic Church.”
“How could a fifth gospel, regardless of who wrote it, destroy the Church?” asked Laura.
The woman smiled. “You don’t know what’s in it.”
Acton grunted. “Neither do you, apparently.”
A nod. “True, we don’t know the exact words, but we know the general content, the spirit. Immediately after the gospel was seized, our dying leader wrote down everything she could remember, to preserve some of what had been lost.”
There was a knock on the window separating them from the driver.
“We’re almost there.” She fished a cellphone from her pocket and handed it to Acton.
The woman chuckled. “No, but the original protestors were right, which is why they were quickly taken over by the unions and others, so their message could be distorted.”
Acton sighed. “Okay, I’ll bite. How were the original protestors right?”
“America. Is. Owned.” With each word, her eyes narrowed more. She leaned back. “Think about it. The average American doesn’t donate to a political party or candidate. They can’t afford to. Those that do, contribute a little bit, maybe a few hundred, even a few thousand dollars. That can’t run a campaign. It costs a billion dollars to run for president today. That doesn’t count all the Senate and House seats. Or governors, state senators, judges, sheriffs, district attorneys, etcetera, etcetera. Every few years, your entire country is bought, over and over, by big business. Only they can afford to donate the millions, even tens of millions, needed to win. And now with your Super PACs.” She tossed her head back and laughed. “Even your own Supreme Court is owned! What kind of moron can seriously think that a corporation has the same rights as a human being? Until Texas puts a corporation to death, I think we can safely say they aren’t human.”
“So there’s a huge amount of money involved. It’s always been that way. It’s that way in every country.”
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong. Many countries limit people’s donations, and in many cases no companies or unions can contribute, only citizens.” She scratched her head with the barrel of her gun. “Think about this. If you donate a thousand dollars to your Senator’s campaign, and she”—she pointed at Laura—“a part of the uber-rich elite, donates ten million, who’s phone call do you think he’s going to take? I think we all know the answer to that.” She jabbed the air with her gun, emphasizing each point. “And, when she says she wants him to vote a certain way on an upcoming bill, she merely threatens to not donate to his campaign at reelection time. And since your election cycles are so short, your politicians are in constant campaign mode. They can’t risk losing the big donors, so they do their bidding.” She sat back and threw her hands in the air. “So, your government is owned. From the top elected official, right down to the bottom. And it’s only getting worse.”
Acton had to admit the woman had some good points. But he wasn’t here to listen to conspiracy theories or debate campaign finance reform. Of course big money should be taken out of it. Any sane person understood that. But just try getting that kind of reform through Congress. It would never happen. Because they’re owned. He shook his head. He had to focus on the problem at hand.
“Thanks for the civics lesson. Now, once again I ask, how are we supposed to get the book?”
“As I said, you are archaeologists, not police detectives. There is only one reason you are being brought in, and that is to examine something of archaeological interest. You must use this opportunity to find the gospel, and return it to us.”
“And what will you do with it then?”
“Release it for the world to see. To see what has been hidden from them for thousands of years.” She leaned forward, scratching her ankle with the barrel of the gun. “And destroy the foundation of the Roman Catholic Church.”
“How could a fifth gospel, regardless of who wrote it, destroy the Church?” asked Laura.
The woman smiled. “You don’t know what’s in it.”
Acton grunted. “Neither do you, apparently.”
A nod. “True, we don’t know the exact words, but we know the general content, the spirit. Immediately after the gospel was seized, our dying leader wrote down everything she could remember, to preserve some of what had been lost.”
There was a knock on the window separating them from the driver.
“We’re almost there.” She fished a cellphone from her pocket and handed it to Acton.
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