“Andy, what you’re saying is unhinged.”
Despite Ethan being one of the sheeple, Andy does appreciate that he visits.
“Unhinged? Have you looked outside – forget poisoning us with fake vaccines and fluoride, they’re changing the weather patterns.”
Ethan looks tired, Andy can see the heavy metals they pump into tomatoes have drained the fight out of his brother.
“That’s global warming. Which you say is fake.”
“Global warming is a Chinese hoax driven by globalist media hysteria, do the research. But I didn’t mean that – look at the sky! They’re using cloud seeding to alter the atmosphere!”
Andy looks at Ethan to see if he understands. Ethan sips his beer for a long moment, then says, “You know I can’t vote for you, right? For your party.”
“You can, but I know you wont.” The truth’s hard to accept for most people, his brother included. Andy’s stopped trying to open his eyes to the obscene social controls, the plandemic, the billionaires harvesting adrenochrome from babies, globalists pushing cultural Marxism to destroy straight white men. Big pharma, MSM lies, the corrupt Reserve Bank and New Zealand’s participation in the equally corrupt UN, WHO, and WEF.
Andy tried to show the truth to everyone he cared about. First they rejected it, then rejected him.
“Olivia’s turning four next month,” says Ethan. “I can’t invite you to her party, but I could bring her over even though you’re … “
Ethan sighs, “Unvaccinated.”
“Sorry. I’d love to see Olivia.” It hits Andy how much he misses his niece. Last time was three years ago, the night Jacinda frauded her way to a second term. Andy’s sister-in-law refused after that – not content with poisoning Olivia’s body, she poisoned the child’s mind too.
His family couldn’t see that he was fighting an all-encompassing evil. Fighting them so Olivia doesn’t grow up in a world controlled by paedophile elites. He doesn’t blame his family. He blames the elites.
Ethan leaves soon after, and though the brothers used to hug, now they exchange strained goodbyes.
The door is almost closed when Ethan turns, that weariness etched on his face.
“Andy, we’re here for you. Whenever you want to come home.”
Then he’s gone, before Andy can say that he will come home victorious, or not at all.
Next week: We conclude our election-campaign series of short stories as Stephanie Johnson imagines a National candidate plunged into an existential crisis