>>2446973In the annals of history there exist characters so charismatic they transcend the constraints of their own timeline. But what if we told you that one such person born in the 19th century made an unexpected foray in the 21st century?
The year is 2025, on the streets of Athens a flash of light appears in an alleyway not too far from the KKE party offices. Behind a dumpster lies an old man with thick hair who struggles to balance himself on his two feet, confused and afraid. The man walks out of the alley as his stomach grumbles, right by a dumpster with some freshly thrown out gyros, the man thinks to himself "still good enough to eat" as he indulges in the leftovers. Little does the man know a rally has just begun, instigated by none other than the KKE just ahead of the street he happens to be in. The man walks around trying to make sense of the world around him, but his nerves are bursting with anxiousness and his hands are trembling, not because of the uncertainty of the situation he has found himself in, but due to a little habit from before this ordeal of indulging in alcohol. Normally it would've helped him get through with his life, after all, the man had a conscience bigger than most men and a lot of troubles beyond his control - "better to drink to forget than have them gnaw away at your sanity" the man though. It was time that he should find something to drink, or something to ingest to bring him back to stability.
[B-roll footage of the man walking, until he encounters a café ]
[B-roll footage of the man entering a café ]
When he had entered the café, some people had given him funny looks while others ignored him, the man though he must be in a foreign place. It really was all foreign to him, as it took him awhile to figure out what was meant to be the cashier's spot. After which he then began to talk to the cashier. "Interessanter Ort, verstehen Sie mich?" He asked in German, after all, this is the first language that he had acquired, it was instinctive to him. But to the cashier it was different, the cashier was under the impression that a Greek man was impersonating Karl Marx, it was humorous, but the cashier had no time for laughs. "Δεν μιλάω Γερμανικά, Καρλ". the cashier said. The man didn't understand the sentence, but he recognized his own name in it - "Καρλ". He thought that the cashier was a foreign admirer of his, so in this line of thought he figured charm would be enough to get him a drink. Karl made a thumbs up and pretended to take a swig, acting as though he's already chugging an alcoholic beverage. The cashier understood, then response with a gesture of showing a flat hand then folding it rapidly - indicating "give me money". Karl understood and searched his pockets, pulling out a few thalers, he didn't know the local prices but believed it would be sufficient enough. The cashier still believed this to be an act and really wasn't in the mood for it, nor had the temper to play along, so thus began shouting "Κάνε τη δράση σου έξω Μαλάκα", "πάω έξω". Karl didn't understand, but he decided he was not welcome there, believing the cashier to be just another petite-bourgeoisie crook he turned around, then grabbed alcohol from the nearest table and ran off.
As he ran through the streets, he noticed that the cashier was not chasing after and considered it a victory to be celebrated - taking chugs of odd tasting liquor, slowly regaining his senses. By then he had realized that this was a foreign country and that nothing looked familiar to him, the walls were filled with graffiti, he had never seen such awful art before. He knew it wasn't a dream, but it was all foreign to him. Until he encountered the rally.
Red flags were waving, a massive crowd of people was shouting, as Karl looked ahead he saw two familiar symbols - a hammer and a sickle.
This was enough for him, he figured those people would be able to understand him. Thus he frantically ran towards the rally while taking sips of alcohol. A significant portion of the people attending the KKE rally looked towards him - a drunk man impersonating Karl Marx RUINING his sacred image, mocking their idol. For you see dear viewer, they had a different impression of him - one that was almost saint-like, to them Karl Marx appeared as nothing more than an agitator trying to provoke them, to mock the way of their party - of teetotalism, which they believed to be the way of the revolutionary life - free from alcohol, drugs and what was perceived as "reactionary" and "degenerate" behavior. This man which looked like a ragged parody of Karl Marx to them was drinking a brand of alcohol - an act unimaginable to most KKE partisans who had been taught that Karl Marx was a man of the people, instilled with a sense of purity that would lead an example for others. This was an act of aggression in their eyes. Marx would NEVER drink alcohol, only Trotskyist liars and liberals would defame him in such ways. In their eyes it was all too clear - an impersonator, a grifter wanted to walk up to their rally, drinking alcohol to record a reaction out of them, to humiliate them, to imply that communists are drunken bastards and to slander Karl Marx. Their puritan view in defense of what they perceived as communism would coincidentally lead to a tragedy for communism greater than they would know. Before Karl could say a word the crowd began to beat him with the wooden sticks of flags, all shouting slurs at the man they believed to be a fraud. Karl was too weak to react, he was beaten to the ground, beaten with sticks, over and over again, he tried to yell for help in German but no one dared to intervene, for even the bystanders knew they could not fight back against the angry mob of KKE party members. As they beat they shouted, one young militant voter shouts in English "STRAIGHT EDGE FOR LIFE" - a phrase he had heard in his journey to punk sobriety culture, another voter shouts "ΓΑΜΗΜΕΝΟΣ ΑΛΗΤΗΣ" and as more shouts and blows are delivered to the body and a few to the head - with thick wooden poles that struck like bats, it is all too much for the already frail Karl. Police sirens began to sound and the men began to disperse, but the damage had already been done. The alcohol bottle was broken, glass shattered everywhere, blood pouring onto the street.
Karl dead once again. It was not the alcohol that killed him, it was the resilience and resistance of the very people he had hoped to appease. His time travel brought him face to face with a reality he could not comprehend, a reality that ultimately lead to his demise. The revolt against Karl serves as a stark reminder of the destruction sobriety can bring and the anti-communism "Marxism-Leninism" really serves to be.