Note from Heather: And now for something completely different. I have received so many remarkable stories for the Covid Era Stories project. Sven (a pseudonym) and Andrew (his real name) are real people who wrote in with real stories. With help from Zirrus, we produced a mash-up of their stories, in script form. It reflects reality, as the best fiction always does, but this has far more truth than fiction.
Cast:
Sven: French, late-thirties, intelligent, clever and spunky Covid Era dissident.
Andrew: Canadian, late-thirties, shy, bookish and resolute Covid Era dissident.
Bus driver: late-fifties, spends each working day sitting on a bus just to go home and sit in front of the television watching mainstream news, worrying about nearly everything he’s ingesting from it.
All are loners at heart.
Setting: Public transportation in Toronto, well after full-on lockdowns, but still in the madness era. Midsummer.
Most of the other passengers have gotten off at various stops along the way, and Andrew can see the bus driver eyeing him suspiciously. His eyes are what is mostly visible, not because the mirror is small, but because the driver is fully masked. Andrew is not, and the guy all the way at the back of the bus isn’t either, but he has his face securely buried in his laptop. The angry driver finally speaks to Andrew.
Bus driver: Where is your mask, son?
Andrew: I’m sorry, what? Your mask makes it hard for me to understand you.
Bus driver: Your mask! Where’s your mask?!
Andrew: I don’t need one.
Bus driver: You don’t seem to have a breathing issue...
Andrew: I just don’t need one.
Bus driver: You trying to be a menace?
Andrew: No, I just don’t need to be wearing a mask. I’m exempt.
Bus driver: What kind of crap is that? You know, I could kick you off the bus right now.
Andrew: I am trying to get to the library.
Bus driver: I have every right to just stop this bus, it’s in the handbook! If I’m feeling unsafe, I am free to stop the bus and not budge until the danger is removed!
Andrew: Really, sir, I’d just like to get to the library.
The bus driver pulls the bus over and stops it. He doesn’t call for enforcement, he just glares in the mirror at Andrew, engine idling. Sven, the man at the back of the bus, finally looks up from his laptop, sensing the tension in the air, and takes his ear buds out. He had chuckled to himself about the sea of muzzled passengers, moving like waves off and on the bus, but hadn’t noticed the unmasked Andrew until now.
He becomes curious and moves his seat to just across from Andrew.
Sven: What is the reason for the stopping?
Andrew: He thinks I’m required to be wearing a mask, but he’s wrong. I know the rules. I’m at least a full six feet from him, I don’t know why he’s harassing me. He hasn’t harassed you, has he?
Sven: Ahhh, I am much too slick. Masks are absurd, and they don’t do what these sheep I see everywhere think they do. Covid-19 is aerosolized and ubiquitous and is probably not even dangerous for anyone I’ve seen on the bus today, anyway. The whole thing is a ruse.
Andrew says nothing, but a spark of camaraderie in his eyes urges Sven to embark on a monologue:
Sven: I saw my family once or twice during the lockdowns. We kept shaking hands, kissing on the cheeks to say bonjour, eating together.
I looked at the world, unfazed, shaking my head.
From laboratories being granted immunity from vaccine side effects, to the holy science:
“Then, on that dark day, sunlight pierced the clouds. And we stood in awe.
“Because the holy vaccine was finally here to save us all.”
The holy science reduced part of the population to less than human!
From “100% safe and effective” to“put the anti-vaxxers in camps” to “get the shot or get shot”.
From dancing nurses to compilations of people randomly getting strokes on camera.
So… is this how the Third Reich started?
In barely two years, you could watch, in real time, how easily a population can be captured.
Andrew regards Sven with increasing interest, nodding.
Andrew: I’ve been thrown out of libraries while just keeping to myself, “endangering” no one. One angry guy was so mad when he saw me walking outside maskless, he screamed at me and even threatened physical harm! I had to get a police officer to escort me home that day, can you believe it? I’m more wary of them than they should ever be of me.
Sven: During lockdowns in France, I remember thinking these three important points:
A vaccine is meant to prevent, not to cure. Stopping a pandemic with a vaccine-only strategy would not save those already sick.
“Stay at home, don’t spread it around, people are dying!”, right? Yet you forbid people to see a doctor to get medicine until their condition becomes critical.
In two weeks, it spread all across the world like magic? Or did contamination start at the Military World Games in Wuhan in 2019, then stay under the radar with flu-like symptoms until testing began?
The bus driver snorts loudly from his cushioned seat, reminding his passengers of his existence
Bus driver: Are you both mad??? Perhaps I really should call the authorities!
Sven (ignoring the driver, and surprising himself with his need to talk about the debacle with someone who might possibly relate): Before the lockdowns, a piece of news came: a French scientist had found a cheap drug that could be used against COVID. Hydroxychloroquine.
Sitting at my desk, my first reaction was almost patriotic:
“Finally. A Frenchman who doesn’t embarrass us internationally.”
But one word mattered more than the others.
Cheap.
I don’t know if it resonated immediately or a few days later.
Still, three days later, while scrolling as usual, my feed suddenly changed.
A ribbon of suggested videos appeared — from every major media outlet — all attacking the same man.
One name: Professor Didier Raoult.
The scientist promoting hydroxychloroquine became a public enemy overnight.
A liar. A fraud. A danger.
Like a perfectly synchronized choir, the media ecosystem moved in unison to destroy his credibility.
And as a good conspiracy-minded contrarian, my instinct was simple:
“If everyone wants to silence him, then he is exactly the man I should listen to.”
So I dismissed all the propaganda outlets at once — and looked for real interviews.
I know how mainstream media works.
If you want to discredit someone, you isolate him on a hostile set, surround him with aggressive journalists, interrupt him constantly, derail his answers with unrelated questions, and confuse the audience.
It’s obvious.
It’s dirty.
And people fall for it every time.
While scrolling, I found a one-on-one interview.
The journalist was Laurent Ruquier.
I don’t like Ruquier.
He once showed absolutely disgraceful behavior toward a guest on a long-running and respected radio show, Les Grosses Têtes. Traditionally, that show welcomes artists and public figures in a mix of humor and general knowledge. That incident left a bad taste.
So I opened the video without much expectation.
And I was wrong.
The interview was respectful. Calm. Intelligent.
Professor Raoult was allowed to speak without being constantly interrupted.
The journalist actually asked relevant questions.
And honestly?
Later, I learned that the man they tried to portray as a fraud had a 142-page curriculum vitae.
He had spent his life working around the world on infectious diseases, especially in Africa.
He had participated in managing real epidemics. Even his institute, the IHU, had been designed with pandemic response in mind.
The laboratories were organized for maximum efficiency, precisely to handle such crises.
Out of the thirteen French scientists who produce internationally published papers, nine were on his team.
Andrew: Are you some kind of academic? And why are you on public transit in Canada???
Sven: No, just interested in reality. I’m on this bus checking out the city before a wine symposium because my new boss wasn’t interested in a trip to Canada. I’m sorry I’ve gone on at length.
Andrew: Don’t be.
Sven: I’m a nobody and a loner.
I spent years moving between a few jobs, mostly unemployed, unmotivated, spending my days on my computer, rarely going out. But I have this new job at a vineyard, and I’m excited enough about it that I was willing to travel longer than the little conference will take, just to make a good impression. When I doubted my ability to pretend to know all that much about wine he told me, “You seem pretty savvy with a computer, and wily in character; you’ll do fine” and put me on a plane.
Andrew: I’ve got a similar story, I guess. Series of jobs, always seemed to fall apart. Social anxiety. People don’t realize that most of the things they complained about losing during lockdowns were already not available to me due to existing on welfare. Most stores—I couldn’t afford anything in them, so their doors may as well have been locked. Movies—nope. Restaurants—definitely not. I do have a few friends I share interests with, but actual social events, that usually takes money, too. And one would actually need the desire to be sociable...
Sven laughs, and looks at the bus driver who is no longer glaring. There is a definite softening to his eyes that surprises all three of them.
Sven: Well, I guess you don’t need this recipe I’ve been carrying around. I was going to give it you in thanks for letting me get some apparently bottled up shit off my chest, huh?
Andrew: Naw, give it to the nosy bus driver instead.
The driver bristles at being called out, but then he relaxes and chuckles a bit himself.
Andrew: Imagine society is a city.
It’s vibrant and bustling; people have everything they want for the asking. Now imagine someone living at the city limits. Everything is far away and hard to access. No one wants to go out to the city limits because that would take them too far out of the way from the place they love, the heart of the city. Most people live in the heart of that city which is society. What society experienced during lockdown was a bit like what it’s like to live on the fringe. They were comfortable and happy living in the heart of the city and in March 2020 they were all pushed to the city limits where they had access to very little. No restaurants to go to, no movie theatres to see the latest release on the big screen. They complained about not being able to travel to exotic locations for an extravagant vacation.
I live at those city limits all the time.
Andrew and Sven sit looking severely at each other for a long minute
Bus driver: So... would you two like to go to the library?
Sven: Yes, please!
Andrew: (a little surprised) Yeah, that’d be great. I wondered why we hadn’t been booted off the bus already, if I’m being honest.
Bus driver: Well, honest is the right word, here. I was angry at first, but I realized you both seemed like honest blokes, and I guess I was nosy long enough to realize how hard I was being on both of you. Something in me clicked while I listened. I realize there is a lot I don’t really know about the persuasiveness of the news, what it says that might not be true, and really.... just how lonely I suddenly felt.
Arriving at the library stop, Sven places a folded up paper into the driver’s hand as a thank you gesture. It is a recipe for white wine cake. The recipe can be found at the end of this post.
Before the driver shuts the mostly glass doors, he hears Sven introduce himself with a handshake, and Andrew responding in kind.
Curtain closes with the sound of the bus doors swooshing shut.
Except it’s not the end. As audience applause starts to wane, the bus driver comes out alone, speaking on a cell phone. He is speaking with his daughter who he’s kept at a distance for far too long.
Bus driver: I’ve been missing our walks. And time with my granddaughter. I’ve decided this fight over who is vaccinated or not is superseding the love I have for you both.
Pause
Yes, I know I said that, and I’m truly sorry. I was... well, I was afraid. And angry. And foolish. Please honey, I’d like to start over.
Pause
Yeah, just a walk, we’ll start with a walk. This weekend, yeah?
He has tears welling in his eyes as he listens
Ok, yeah, that will totally work for me.
Pause
I’ll see you then, yes. And, honey... thank you. I never meant to harm you. I thought you were risking harming me. Now I can see I was harming not only myself, but those I love, and I’m really, really sorry.
Pause
I love you, too.
The man holds the cell phone to his chest, looking upward, tears in his open eyes, swaying slightly. Then quickly exits through the break in the curtain.
fin de la partie
White wine cake (from Sven)
• 3 eggs (4 if small)
• 1 packet baking powder1
• 200 g sugar
• 200 g flour
• 80 g almond powder (optional)
• Vanilla extract (optional)
• 20 cl dry white wine
• 10 cl oil
Oven: 210°C
Separate the egg whites from the yolks and beat the whites until stiff peaks form.
Add baking powder (mix).
Add egg yolks (mix).
Add almond powder, vanilla, and sugar (mix).
Add wine and oil (mix).
Add flour (mix).
In a buttered deep cake pan, bake for about 25 minutes.
Check so it doesn’t burn, and let it cool inside the oven without opening it.
And you can find Andrew’s work at these three links:
I asked Sven how much baking powder is in a “packet,” as we don’t have those in the United States. Here, we buy baking soda by the bag or the box, and measure it out either by volume or weight. He told me this: “I use 11g packets. (levure chimique “alsacienne” from Alsa brand).” Weighing the ingredients in your recipe that rely on chemistry to get their job done is preferable to using volumes as, especially with powders like flour and baking powder, you can get very different amounts in the same volume, depending on how you packed it. That said, 11g of baking soda is just shy of two teaspoons.
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