Joe and Nelly: Babylon
Night. Toronto skyline flickers like a tired circuit board. Condos glow. Sirens echo far away. Joe and Nelly sit on a fire escape, guitars between them, the city breathing below.
JOE:
People don’t believe in the ballot anymore, Nel. They line up, they vote, and nothing changes. Rent goes up. Food shrinks. Hope gets shrink-flated. Babylon just… keeps humming.
NELLY:
Babylon always hums. That’s how it lulls people to sleep. You don’t smash it, Joe. You wake people up inside it.
JOE:
That’s what I’m trying to do. I don’t want Molotovs. I want microphones. I want a song that makes people put the bricks down and pick each other up. Like Lennon—Give Peace a Chance—but for now. For Canada. For people who feel the system stopped listening.
NELLY:
Careful with Lennon comparisons. They’ll say you’re naïve. Or dangerous. Or both.
JOE:
They already do. But listen—when people stop believing voting matters, they don’t stop wanting justice. They just look for another language. Music is still legal. Love is still legal. Babylon hates that because it can’t tax it.
NELLY (smiling):
You sound like Revelation without the fire. “Come out of her, my people”—but you’re saying come out of her mindset.
JOE:
Exactly. A peaceful exodus. Jubilee thinking. Debt of the soul forgiven first, then the rest follows. If people remember they’re neighbors again, not data points, Babylon loses its spell.
NELLY:
So what’s the revolution, John?
JOE:
We refuse the script. No red team, blue team theater. No savior politicians. We build parallel dignity—food co-ops, shared songs, mutual aid, truth told gently but clearly. We make cynicism uncool again.
NELLY:
That scares power more than riots. Riots justify crackdowns. Peaceful joy spreads.
JOE:
That’s the plan. Not “imagine no countries”—more like imagine no neighbors left behind. If enough people sing it, Babylon cracks—not from force, but from forgetting how to rule.
NELLY (picks up her guitar):
Then don’t preach. Write the chorus. Let it travel faster than policy papers.
JOE:
Okay. First line: “We tried the vote, now we try the vow—no one eats alone.”
NELLY:
That’ll do, Lennon. Let’s give Canada something to hum tomorrow morning.
They start to play. Below them, the city keeps humming—but softer now, like it’s listening. 🎶
