Scene: A Café in East Van — “The Balkan Bean”
(It’s late afternoon. The air smells of espresso and old vinyl. Joe Jukic, from Little Croatia, sits across from his old friend Luis Morgado from Little Portugal. The two sip dark coffee, voices low but firm.)
Joe Jukic:
You remember that old tower, eh Luis? The one with all that asbestos? My cousin swore the workers were coughing up dust for years. Cancer, lung issues, you name it. Then one morning—poof—it’s gone.
Luis Morgado:
(leans back, shaking his head)
Yeah, Joe. I’ve been saying it since day one—Bush lied. They sold the war like a used car. That wasn’t just terrorism, that was a jubilee for the rich. They wiped the slate clean on bad investments, insurance payouts, reconstruction contracts—boom. Trillions changed hands overnight.
Joe:
I know. Everyone said it was about oil, but maybe it was also about liability. That asbestos cleanup was gonna cost billions. Easier to start a war than to pay the rent on justice.
Luis:
Exactly. They turned tragedy into profit. The towers fell, and so did the truth. They called it freedom, but it was just a fire sale for the global elite.
Joe:
(nodding)
And twenty years later, we’re still paying the interest. Still breathing in their dust.
Luis:
You and me, Joe—we come from working-class families. We know what it’s like to pay the bill for someone else’s party.
Joe:
Yeah. But maybe it’s time for a new jubilee—the real kind. The kind that forgives the poor, not rewards the rich.
(They clink their coffee cups together—East Van style. The city hums outside, but in this small corner of Little Croatia and Little Portugal, two old friends share the truth that never made the evening news.)