This is a flash fiction piece I wrote in 2009 for a friends website, it was attacked by a vile character in the comments and ended up getting deleted. -Jason Robo
The US government and media said vaccinations were for my family’s safety. The H1N1 virus, or swine flu, attacks healthy young people with unforgiving cruelty. Or so they say. Being the day before traveling to Germany for our Thanksgiving vacation in 2009 it seemed logical to inoculate. Little did I know the decision to immunize would define my existence.
Something was wrong on the flight from New York City to Berlin. All three of us were neatly tucked into our row. Christine, my wife, was in her semiconscious pharmaceutical and booze induced state. Nothing unusual there. But Jeff, our only child, he slept the whole way.
For being so excited for this trip there was a dramatic absence in the energy of a 10-year-old boy.
Christine couldn’t comprehend worrying.
“Do you think he’s alright?” I asked.
“Thomas, he’s just conserving energy,” she says before downing more Bombay Gin.
Any rationalization that exempts the use of critical thinking. Another level of intoxication. I was guilty too.
I doubled up his blanket using my own and massaged his scalp.
I couldn’t tell how pale Jeff was under the cabin and terminal’s fluorescent lighting. It became apparent when we made it through customs and walked to our taxi outside the sliding doors.
“Jeff, are you OK, you don’t look so good?” I asked.
“I’m OK pop,” he replied, “just tired.” I couldn’t connect the dots at the time. He didn’t want us to worry.
“We’ll get you a Red Bull sweetie,” Christine says.
“No Red Bull. How about Vicodin and a cocktail?” I sarcastically retorted. Yet another conflict over dietary decisions.
Christine’s jaw was slightly unhinged, prepared to snap back. Jeff weakly pleaded “don’t fight” as he entered the cab.
Christine stared coldly before climbing in next to him. “Just wait until we are in private,” her eyes said.
Our first destination was to meet my cousin Dr. Hans Wilhelm at Humboldt University where he teaches philosophy. Hans had a rustic country cottage on the outskirts of the city in the town of _____.
I decided in the taxi to have a doctor look at my son. Perhaps Hans knew someone.
Jeff would never make it, it didn’t matter. His fate was decided.
The drive was only 20 minutesand Jeff appeared to be out cold sleeping against his mother.
We met Hans at the Bebelplatz, the site of the infamous book burnings during the rise of the Third Reich.
As we pulled over I reached for my wallet to pay for the fare. Christine exited the car. As my arm extended a fistful of Euros Jeff fell lifelessly in my periphery.
Something was horribly wrong.
Dropping a wad of currency before the grasp of the cab driver I reached frantically to check on Jeff. Checking his wrist and neck I couldn’t detect a pulse. Pressing my ear against his chest revealed a wretched silence.
Christine was then knelt at the door, hand over her mouth and gasping in desperation. Her eyes reflected a concern I had never witnessed.
Silence dominated my perception as the taxi driver radioed for help, but there was none. Hthe autpsy revealed a fatal reaction to vaccinations.
Deciding to take the vaccine for “safety” was the wrong thing to do. Safety was an abstract concept that in reality I knew nothing of. If I did some critical thinking perhaps Jeff would still be here.
I am just a father that tried to do the right thing.
No, that is unacceptable. Trying would involve research, not taking things at face value. Trying. Such terminology appears to rationalize my fatal error. Failure. A father that failed, that is the truth. That was my realization when being interviewed by the press.
The least I can do is try and succeed at something in remembrance of my boy.
“Why do I need a shot?” Jeff asked after getting immunized.
“Safety,” I told him trying to rationalize parroting talking points. When I think safety I think security.
My boy has been secured. In a coffin, six feet under…safe from the madness. There is some finality in that.
His mother later succumbed to the madness. Consumed by the trauma she was found in the parking lot of LaGuardia Airport with empty bottles of Bombay and Vicodin.
Meanwhile the pharmaceutical industry secures profits. I couldn’t live with an out of court settlement. They cannot pay me to silence the memory of my boy and his mother, my wife. Not the million and a half dollars they offered, nor the billions in profits they make on vaccinations. the polar opposite of this fascist construct
“Our hearts really go out to the family when this kind of thing happens,” said Rachel Lyncy, representative for INOVA Health System. This has happened before to Desiree Jennings. It continues.
I have since learned the truth about vaccines. It is the outsourcing of our immune functions. Same as our national security, economy, food and virtually every facet of our lives. The justification can appear logical but only disguise a growing fascist construct plotting on our demise. An agenda promoted by propagandized history and news.
Eugenics, modern day population control. the tendrils of tyrants reaching across the expanse of human history. These are silent weapons for silent wars.
Ironic this realization emerges from my son’s fate in Germany
Those who sacrifice liberty for security deserve neither. Benjamin Franklin knew this. I learned this the hard way. I hope others can learn from this experience.
You know what causes real sickness, simultaneously watching others believe this bullshit while seeing through it.
Knowledge is power and there is power in numbers. Time to mount a meaningful offensive.
