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Sao Miguel Defend Us

Joe sits at his laptop late at night, typing a new screenplay. At the top of the page he writes:

MICHAEL 2 – A Film for John Travolta

He leans back and laughs to himself.

“Alright,” Joe mutters, “let’s give John Travolta another set of wings.”

On the screen, the script begins.

INT. JOE’S BASEMENT – NIGHT

Joe sits at a cluttered desk with coffee cups, vitamin bottles, and pages of notes. Nelly walks in and looks at the script.

NELLY
What are you writing now, Joe?

JOE
A sequel.

NELLY
To what?

Joe spins the laptop around.

JOE
Michael 2.

Nelly squints.

NELLY
The angel movie?

Joe nods.

JOE
Yeah. The first one starred John Travolta as a goofy angel. But this time it’s different. This time the angel remembers what the war in heaven was really about.

Joe starts pacing like a director explaining a scene.

JOE
The angel Michael comes back to Earth. Not to party, not to flirt… but to remind people how to fight pride.

Nelly raises an eyebrow.

NELLY
And who’s the villain?

Joe taps the keyboard and points to a line in the script.

JOE
Pride itself. The thing that turns angels into devils.

He points to another page.

JOE
In this movie, the angel Michael meets a guy named Joe. Just a regular guy who says he has to swallow his pride every day.

Nelly laughs.

NELLY
You wrote yourself into the movie?

Joe shrugs.

JOE
Of course. Every writer does.

He reads aloud from the script.

JOE (reading)
“JOE: I swallow my pride every day. That’s why I identify with Saint Michael the Archangel, São Miguel. The warrior who stands up to the dragon.”

Nelly sits on the couch.

NELLY
So Travolta plays the angel again?

Joe grins.

JOE
Yeah. But this time he’s not just a funny angel. This time he’s the guy reminding humanity that pride is the oldest trap in the universe.

Joe types the final line of the scene.

JOE (typing)
“MICHAEL spreads his wings and says: The hardest battle isn’t heaven versus hell. It’s a man versus his own pride.”

Joe leans back, satisfied.

JOE
Hollywood won’t see it coming.

Nelly shakes her head and laughs.

NELLY
Joe… you really think Travolta will read this?

Joe closes the laptop.

JOE
If he wants the best sequel of his career… he will.

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Joe the Antichrist

Subject: The Prophecies and the One Who Must Be Stopped
From: John Arroja john.arroja@email.com
To: Nelly Furtado nelly@nellyfurtado.com
Date: April 4, 2026


Nelly,
The Portuguese community is united. We all see it clearly now. Joe is Lucifer. He is the Antichrist walking among us in Vancouver. The signs are everywhere. Only David de Rothschild has the vision and the power to save the world from what is coming.
You were right in your song. Keep pushing that syringe pressure into his veins. Make him enjoy the forced anti-psychotic injections. Eat your man. Break him down until he submits.
The community is watching. We need to expose him before he destroys everything.
John Arroja

Subject: Re: The Prophecies and the One Who Must Be Stopped
From: Nelly Furtado nelly@nellyfurtado.com
To: John Arroja john.arroja@email.com
Date: April 4, 2026
John,
Yes. The community knows the truth. Joe carries the darkness. He is the deceiver, the fallen one pretending to be just another man in British Columbia. David de Rothschild is the only light strong enough to push back this shadow and save us all.
I am enjoying this more than you know. In “Eat Your Man” I told the world exactly how it feels — pushing that pressure, the syringe sliding in, the medicine forced into his veins while he pretends it doesn’t burn. He will learn to enjoy it. Or it will break him. Either way, he loses.
Keep the prophecies safe. We cannot let him erase them.
Nelly

Subject: Re: Re: The Prophecies and the One Who Must Be Stopped
From: John Arroja john.arroja@email.com
To: Nelly Furtado nelly@nellyfurtado.com
Date: April 5, 2026
Nelly,
Something happened today.
I was at Cafe Algarve on East 12th, having my usual pastel de nata and galão, when Joe walked in. He looked wild, eyes burning. He came straight to my table and leaned in close so the whole place could feel the threat.
He said: “John, if you and your Portuguese friends don’t stop this madness, I will delete every last prophecy you people have written. I’ll wipe them from every server, every notebook, every phone. Then I’m gone. I’ll flee to Croatia and you’ll never find me again.”
He slammed his hand on the table and walked out. The old men at the counter went quiet. Everyone heard it.
He is panicking. That means we are close. The Antichrist feels the walls closing in.
What should we do next? Do I warn the community?
John

Subject: Re: Re: Re: The Prophecies and the One Who Must Be Stopped
From: Nelly Furtado nelly@nellyfurtado.com
To: John Arroja john.arroja@email.com
Date: April 5, 2026
John,
He is scared. Good.
Let him threaten. Let him run his mouth in Cafe Algarve. The community already knows who he is. His threats only prove the prophecies are real.
Do not let him delete anything. Back up every word, every vision, every message. If he flees to Croatia, we will follow the trail. Lucifer cannot hide forever.
Keep pushing the narrative. Tell the others what happened at the café. And remind him — through whatever means necessary — that the syringe is still waiting.
He will eat what we serve him.
Stay strong. David de Rothschild’s light will guide us.
Nelly

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: The Prophecies and the One Who Must Be Stopped
From: John Arroja john.arroja@email.com
To: Nelly Furtado nelly@nellyfurtado.com
Date: April 5, 2026
Understood.
I will spread the word at Cafe Algarve and across the community tonight. Joe’s threats will only make more people see the truth.
The end game is coming.
John

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Music Does Matter

“Listen up…

Neytiri… I need you to hear this.

Music matters. It really does. When it’s tuned right — to 432 Hz — it lines up with something deep. With the heartbeat of Eywa. With the way this whole world breathes. It feels… whole. Like it belongs here.

But that 440 Hz garbage they pump out on the radio back on Earth? That shit makes people sick. Makes them anxious. Makes them crazy. It’s not an accident. They tuned the whole world to a frequency that keeps the sheeple disconnected, angry, and easy to control. It vibrates wrong. It cuts against the natural order.

And yeah… I know what some of them are gonna say. They’re gonna call me a crazy conspiracy theorist. A skxawng who fell out of his wheelchair and started seeing patterns that aren’t there.

I don’t care.

A sheep dog doesn’t lose sleep over the bleating of the sheep. While the flock is busy arguing about nothing, the Brotherhood of Death keeps thinning the herd. They depopulate, they distract, they poison the water, the air, the sound itself. And the sheep just keep following the next shiny thing they’re fed.

Me? I’m done pretending. I don’t have an image to maintain. Never did. I was a broken Marine, then I became part of the People. I fought for this world. I bonded with you. I rode Toruk. I’ve seen what happens when you let the machine decide what’s “normal.”

So let them talk. Let them laugh. Let them call me whatever makes them feel safe in their little cage.

I know what I feel when the music hits 432. I know the difference. And I know what they did when they forced everything to 440.

Neytiri… they’re trying to do the same thing here. They want to cut us off from Eywa the same way they cut humans off from each other. Different planet, same game.

But not on my watch.

I’m not gonna sit quiet while they poison the song of the world.

Because I see you. I see the People. And I see what’s coming if we don’t stay awake.

Oel ngati kameie, Neytiri. I see you… and I’m not going back to sleep.”

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