The Washington Monument gleamed in the afternoon sun, its towering presence a symbol of America’s history. But today, it stood as the backdrop for something entirely different: a revival of the counterculture spirit of the 1960s. Prime Minister Nelly Furtado of Canada and Robert F. Kennedy Jr. had called for a gathering of unity, peace, and environmental awareness, a modern-day Woodstock on the National Mall.
Thousands of people had come—old-school hippies in tie-dye, their children and grandchildren, and newcomers drawn by the promise of hope in a time of division.
A Call to Unity
Prime Minister Furtado took the stage first, her voice carrying across the crowd.
“Today, we honor the spirit of love, peace, and rebellion against injustice,” she said. “The world needs that spirit now more than ever. Let’s remind ourselves that change begins with people who dare to dream differently.”
Robert F. Kennedy Jr. followed, speaking passionately about environmental justice and the need to protect the planet for future generations.
“We’re here not just to remember the past but to fight for a better future,” he said. “This is our moment to stand together and demand change.”
Joe’s Turn
Joe Jukic, ever the reluctant hero, was coaxed into giving a speech by Nelly. Wearing a simple button-up shirt and jeans, he approached the microphone, looking out at the sea of faces.
“Uh, hi,” Joe began, his voice unassuming. “I’m not much of a speaker, but Nelly said I should share a few words. So here goes.”
The crowd quieted, sensing something genuine in his demeanor.
“You know, this monument,” Joe said, gesturing to the towering obelisk behind him, “it’s a symbol of America. But do you know where it really comes from? The obelisk has roots in ancient Egypt. It’s tied to sun worship, to the occult. The people who built it—”
The Microphone Cuts Out
Suddenly, the microphone went silent. Joe tapped it, confused, as a murmur spread through the crowd. Behind the scenes, a group of suited men exchanged glances, their expressions tense.
“Looks like someone doesn’t want me to finish,” Joe said, his voice raised so the front rows could hear him.
The crowd, sensing something amiss, began chanting, “Let him speak! Let him speak!”
Nelly Takes Action
Nelly stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Joe’s shoulder. She grabbed a megaphone from a nearby organizer and handed it to him.
“If they won’t let you use the mic, we’ll do it the old-fashioned way,” she said with a smile.
Joe took the megaphone, his confidence returning.
“Like I was saying,” he continued, “the obelisk is more than just a monument. It’s a reminder that symbols have power. But you know what’s stronger than any symbol? People. People standing together, refusing to be divided. That’s what really scares them.”
The Spirit of the Movement
The crowd erupted into cheers, their energy palpable. Musicians began playing protest songs, and the atmosphere shifted from tense to celebratory.
Father Sebastian, who had accompanied the Canadian delegation, stepped forward to read from Isaiah:
“‘They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.’”
The crowd roared in agreement, their voices echoing across the Mall.
A New Chapter
As the sun set, the gathering became a festival of music, art, and activism. The hippie spirit had returned, not as a relic of the past but as a force for the future.
Joe, Nelly, and RFK Jr. stood together, watching the scene unfold.
“They tried to silence you,” Nelly said, nudging Joe. “But you still got your message across.”
Joe smiled. “Guess they don’t hold the cards anymore.”
The Green Goblin Rides Again
The streets of Washington, D.C., were alive with the hum of activity as Mario Coelho’s Volkswagen Bus, affectionately nicknamed The Green Goblin, rolled through the city. Painted in vibrant greens and yellows with swirling peace signs and flowers, the bus was a relic of the counterculture movement, lovingly maintained by Mario himself.
In the passenger seat sat Joe Jukic, his arms crossed as he gazed out at the city’s iconic landmarks. The Washington Monument loomed in the distance, its obelisk shape drawing Joe’s attention.
“You know, Joe,” Mario said, his voice tinged with mischief, “this city’s layout is no accident. The streets, the monuments—they form a pentagram. The Freemasons designed it that way.”
Joe nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve read about it. Power in symbols, right? But symbols only have as much power as we give them.”
No Way Out
As they cruised past the Pentagon, Mario turned up the volume on the bus’s ancient cassette deck. The soundtrack from No Way Out played, a nod to one of Mario’s favorite Cold War thrillers.
“That movie’s a classic,” Mario said, grinning. “Kevin Costner running around D.C., trying to clear his name. Makes you wonder how many layers of truth and lies are out there.”
Joe smirked. “I like to think I’m on the side of the good agents—the ones who want to do the right thing, whether they’re in the CIA, KGB, or wherever.”
Mario glanced at him. “And you think those kinds of agents exist?”
Joe shrugged. “Every system has its bad apples, but there are always people trying to do the right thing. The trick is knowing who to trust.”
Touring the Pentagram
The Green Goblin made its way through the city’s infamous pentagram-shaped street layout. Mario pointed out key landmarks, sharing tidbits of conspiracy lore he’d picked up over the years.
“That’s the House of the Temple,” Mario said, gesturing toward the imposing Masonic headquarters. “33rd-degree Freemasons meet there. The real movers and shakers.”
Joe leaned forward, studying the building. “Looks like a fortress. But even fortresses fall when people stop believing in what they stand for.”
A Meeting of Minds
As night fell, the two friends parked the Green Goblin near the Tidal Basin, the Jefferson Memorial glowing softly in the moonlight. They sat on the bus’s roof, sharing a thermos of coffee as they reflected on their journey.
“You know, Mario,” Joe said, “it’s easy to get caught up in the shadowy stuff—the conspiracies, the hidden agendas. But at the end of the day, it’s about people. Ordinary people standing up for what’s right.”
Mario nodded, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “You’re right, Joe. The symbols, the power structures—they’re just tools. It’s what we do with them that matters.”
A New Mission
Before they left, Mario fired up the Green Goblin’s engine, its distinctive rumble echoing through the quiet streets.
“So what’s next, Joe?” Mario asked.
Joe smiled. “We keep going. There’s a lot of darkness out there, but there’s also a lot of light. And maybe, just maybe, we can tip the balance.”
As the Green Goblin rolled back onto the road, its bright colors standing out against the city’s muted tones, the two friends carried with them a shared determination—to uncover the truth, to fight for justice, and to remind the world that even in the darkest places, there’s always a way out.