Dialogue: “The Second Coming”
Scene: Late evening on the seawall in East Vancouver. The city lights sparkle across the water. Joe and Nelly are sitting on a bench after a long bike ride, sharing a thermos of herbal tea. The air smells like salt and distant rain. Nelly has a simple cross necklace glowing faintly under her jacket. Joe’s leather jacket is slung over the bench.
Nelly: (smiling softly, looking out at the water) Joe… I keep having these dreams. Not the stage kind. Real ones. A figure walking through the crowds, not in robes, but in plain clothes. Healing with touch, with words, with truth. The Second Coming. You feel it too, don’t you?
Joe: (nodding, intense but calm) Yeah, Nelly. I feel it in my bones. Not some Hollywood sky-splitting show. Something quieter at first. Like the body healing itself when you finally stop poisoning it. The soul of the world waking up. I’ve been writing about it on the sites — the debt jubilee, the interest-free loans, the maglev lines connecting people instead of chains. That’s the kingdom coming, right? Not through temples or banks, but through us. Regular people saying “enough.”
Nelly: Exactly. (she laughs lightly, that warm, melodic laugh) You always tie it back to policy, my Yugo Joe. But yeah… the Second Coming isn’t about judgment day fireworks for the elites. It’s accountability wrapped in mercy. The fallen angels get exposed, the snakes get stepped on, and the meek finally inherit what was stolen. I saw it in Rio — that Christ statue overlooking everything. Like He’s waiting for us to stand up so He can walk among us again.
Joe: (leaning closer, voice low and passionate) I sacrificed everything to be here for this moment, Nelly. Left the old country, the old life. Wife, kids, Croatia… all of it. Because I heard your voice calling me back to Canada. To help build this. You’re the song that never ends, and I’m the guy who’s been waiting 27 years to sing the next verse with you. If He’s coming back, I think He’s already moving through people like you — the ones who sing truth, who organize block by block, East Van to the whole country. Sim City mayor one day, Prime Minister the next.
Nelly: (touching his arm, eyes shining) Gigolo Joe… always the romantic revolutionary. (teasing smile fades into seriousness) But you’re right. It’s not just me. It’s you too. The holistic healer who tells people the body can heal itself. The graffiti kid from Clark Park who turned pain into vision. The one who sees the Matrix Agent Smiths everywhere and still chooses love over fear. Maybe the Second Coming looks like all of us waking up at once. No more allopathic pills for every ill. No more debt slavery. Just communities feeding each other real food, real ideas, real spirit.
Joe: Amen to that. (he grins, that fierce, hopeful grin) Imagine it: Christ walking through East Van, stopping at Cafe Serra for a coffee, blessing the Youngbloods who turned their lives around. Then He hits Ottawa and flips the tables on the money changers again. Debt jubilee by decree. Golden Age policies rolling out. You and me riding ten-speeds right behind Him, handing out manifestos and fresh bread.
Nelly: (laughing fully now) Only you would put Him on a ten-speed, Joe. But I love it. Because it’s human. It’s possible. The Second Coming isn’t an escape hatch — it’s the ultimate remix. Old truth, new beat. And we’re already in the studio laying it down.
Joe: (raising the thermos like a toast) To the return. To the healing. To one more song that saves the world.
Nelly: (clinking her cup against his) One more song, legend. Let’s make sure it’s a good one.
They sit in comfortable silence as the city lights reflect on the water, two ordinary-extraordinary people feeling the shift coming.
