Fiction: George and the Philanthropath – Part II. THE SEDUCTION (The Sins are Embraced)

This continues from Part I

ACT 3: The Unsolicited Gift

“In which the gifts grow curiouser, and our hero learns to quiet the voice of his own disquiet.”

After we transitioned the weblog hosting, all was quiet on the Corvina front for a few months, she would like and comment on posts on a daily basis and repost a few with complimentary and comments. It came as a big surprise to have a package arrive by courier one day with some excellent books authored by prominent members of the freedom community, including a personally autographed copy of RFK Jr’s book “The Real Anthony Fauci.” The package also contained a box addressed to Claire, which turned out to contain a rather exquisite inlaid broach in the shape of a flower.

This latter gift seemed rather strange to me, as Claire had not featured much in our discussions and had taken very much a supportive, if disengaged, position in relation to the weblog. Claire was enchanted though and seemed to think she had found a new hero, a saviour of the family and friend for life. She put it on immediately and it had pride of place on her dresser when not pinned to a dress or jacket while she was out and about.

After that, every couple of weeks a package would arrive with a new book or two and I’d write a review and sometimes work them into other articles on the weblog. Corvina started sending me links to online videos featuring speakers from the freedom movement which I’d watch with Claire in the evening instead of commercial TV, which we’d largely given up as unmitigated propaganda during the early COVID pandemic and lockdown days. Occasionally, I’d repost one or two of the videos on the weblog’s conversation section and comment on the original article accompanying the video. Sometimes the author would comment back, and we’d get a decent thread going with others chipping in to add their thoughts, plus of course the inevitable troll giving the normie official view.

Corvina seemed to know everyone in the movement, she’d often mention how she’d been at various freedom rallies and conferences. Sat in the front row while this speaker or that would be giving their talk and spoke to them afterwards over drinks at the bar or at dinner. Money was no barrier and access was a given for her. It was all a bit overwhelming and so far out of my everyday experience that I could not help feeling a bit daunted by the force of her. The gifts to Claire kept arriving as well. A necklace or a pendant or a pair of earrings. Always of an exquisite design and the appearance of high craft. I dared not ask how much they cost but could not bear to question either Corvina or Claire on the subject.

Corvina sent me messages from exotic locations like Acapulco or some place on the border of Serbia, lockdown protest rallies in London or the Yellow Jacket protests in Paris. She’d mention this speaker or that and tell me, “You should have been there; you have so much to say and people would value your perspective.”

I’ve never been a public speaker, and the whole idea was so much out of my comfort zone that I’d just push these suggestions off as flattery. But Claire was enthusiastic and said, “You should get out of your comfort zone.”

Looking back, it felt like they were teaming up on me. Taking me into places and situations I had no experience or confidence in. I remember saying to Claire one day, “Don’t be silly, I’m just a small two bit blogger from nowhere” and her reply, “Well, that’s all you’ll ever be unless you grasp the nettle and take a chance.”

The lure was set.

ACT 4: The Siren’s Call

“In which our hero is flattered, charmed, and made to feel the architect of his own destiny.”

A year later, the weblog was doing amazing things, subscribers number had risen to over 1 million with reads of tens of thousands a day. The commenting and responses were vastly more than I could cope with on a one-to-one basis and I needed support. People kept telling me I should start a video blog. YouTube was out because the censorship was getting beyond a joke and voices expressing anything other than the state approved official narrative were blocked, downrated, and accounts were closed after a brief nonspecific warning (sometimes for videos posted a year or more before that were now accused of violating community standards)—no appeals accepted.

The day Corvina messaged me to suggest a Zoom call stands as an enduing landmark in my memory. It was a Friday afternoon in March, the sun was high in the sky and filling the window behind my desk, the freedom sticker brightly backlit, and the light perfectly illuminating my face and the room behind for the web cam perched on my curving wide-screen computer monitor. Corvina appeared to be sitting in a rather expensive study, books lining the dark wood inbuild shelving behind and a heavy dark stained panel door could be seen in the corner behind. She was dressed in what looked to be designer suit of white with green accents and what appeared to be emerald earrings set off her well-styled long red hair.

She started by telling me how enthused she was about the work and success of the weblog and said I should take this to the world. Video was the way to go and given the censorship on most mainstream channels that meant a self-hosted solution. I told her, this was completely out of my league, and I simply couldn’t afford the camera and production equipment, let alone edit and produce videos. She said, “Don’t worry about that, where there’s a vision and talent like yours, a way will be found.”

Her idea was to set the weblog and video channel in a professional way. Rent a unit in a local commercial area, have it properly fitted out as a sound-proof studio, buy top of the range professional equipment and hire some people to help run and produce the materials. An administrator for sure to handle the online comments and do the social media, a professional video tech to manage the camera and video editing, and eventually even pay others to help present.

It sounded amazing. I was blown away that anyone would think my work justified such an investment. But she was very persuasive and the more I thought about it, the more the idea appealed. Grasping the nettle indeed!

I said, “But all of this will cost tens of thousands of dollars.” To which she replied, “More like two of three hundred thousand if you do it right. That should also cover travel to cover international freedom events and foster the right connections and relationships to really make it sing.”

This blew me away, “I can’t afford that,” I weakly protested. She smiled warmly and said, “But I can. My dead husband left me very well off and I’m more than happy to share it around by way of an investment in you. Let’s call it an interest-free loan. You are so worth it.”

I wasn’t entirely sure how all that international travel would work with COVID and vaccine pass restrictions. But it didn’t seem to be a huge problem for many of the leading people in the freedom movement who were turning up at events in London one week, Mexico another and the month after that in Thailand. But then, so much at that time made absolutely no sense at all anyway. Maybe I would join the lucky exempt.

The bait is scented.

Was the red flag the gift for Claire, or the grand video studio plan? What would make you back out now? Follow the fall in Part III.