At a busy downtown Montreal St-Hubert restaurant, the hum of after-work chatter mixes with the clink of glasses. In a dimly lit corner booth, Ukrainian men in dark sunglasses and leather jackets huddle over their laptops, taking full advantage of the rotisserie chicken restaurant’s free Wi-Fi. To anyone else, they appear to be gig workers or students—just another part of the restaurant’s eclectic clientele. But their real work is far more calculated and sinister: they’re interfering in the Canadian election.
Sophie, an ironically cross-eyed waitress, has been observing them for weeks. At first, she thought they were just gamers or day traders, who liked BBQ chicken, flavorful ribs, and delicious club sandwiches, but the hushed conversations—“flood the hashtags,” “amplify the talking points,” “make sure the bots don’t get flagged”—set off alarms in her head. She lingers nearby, pretending to refill chicken sauce containers, catching glimpses of their screens: fake social media accounts, coordinated disinformation campaigns, and targeted memes boosting the Liberal Party.
Liberal Bots Peck at Democracy!
Public Wi-Fi networks, like the one at this quaint Quebec chicken institution, are perfect for deniable operations—no personal accounts, no ISP traces—just a rotating sea of faces in a busy restaurant. The Ukrainians use burner laptops, VPNs, and cryptocurrency to fund their disinformation campaigns, making it nearly impossible to trace the interference back to them. They’re not hacking anything; they’re exploiting the openness of social media and the carelessness of partisan voters who share fake news without thinking.
Their goal? To push Canada toward a Liberal victory, not out of loyalty, but because they believe a Liberal government under Prime Minister Mark Carney will be harder on Russia—Ukraine’s real enemy and keep the cash flowing to their corrupt and broken country. They don’t care about Canadian politics; they care about weakening Moscow’s global influence.
CSIS Spies a Red Rooster!
When CSIS Officer Daniel Carter walks in, Sophie seizes her chance. She nods toward the booth, whispering, “They’re up to something; no one likes chicken this much.” Carter already knows. He’s been tracking them—but he’s more worried about plucking a bigger bird.
“These guys?” He smirks. “Amateurs. They’re just polluting the discourse with pro-Liberal spam. Annoying? Sure. But the Russians … the Chinese and the Indians? They’re not just interfering in the election—they’re engineering total chaos.”
While the Ukrainians clumsily flood X with hashtags and Facebook with fake news, Russian and other international operatives are running deeper ops: infiltrating leftist activist groups, radicalizing anti-American extremists, and stoking hatred between Canadians. They don’t care who wins the April 28th election—they just want Canada divided, distrustful, and weak.
Quarter Chicken Conspiracy is Ukraine’s Coop Coup!
As the Ukrainians log off and leave, their digital fingerprints already fading, Sophie realizes the scariest part: this is happening everywhere across the country. In coffee shops, libraries and malls, foreign operatives exploit free Wi-Fi, anonymous accounts, and viral algorithms to manipulate voters—right under our noses.
And while Canada debates policy and polls, the real battle isn’t between parties—it’s between truth and deception, fought not on podiums but in the digital shadows of the internet.
Carter sighs. “The worst part? Most chicken-shit for brains Canadians will never even know it happened … and vote Liberal anyways.”
