Most people don't want to change. They're comfortable and set in

Host: The sky was bruised with stormlight, the kind that sits low and heavy before rain breaks — a mix of grey, orange, and electric blue. The city below hummed with restless energy, sirens far away, streetlights flickering awake one by one.

On a rooftop overlooking it all stood Jack and Jeeny, wrapped in the glow of the fading sun. The wind tore through the air, cold and alive, carrying the faint echoes of protest chants still lingering from the streets below.

The sound of helicopter blades thudded faintly above the skyline, and the banners that had once waved in the square now lay damp and folded against a railing. The storm had not yet come — but the tension said it would.

Jeeny’s hair whipped across her face as she looked down at the streets that had once been full of shouting voices and lifted fists. Jack leaned against the iron rail, arms crossed, his jaw tense, his grey eyes searching for meaning in the noise.

Jeeny: “Colin Kaepernick once said, ‘Most people don’t want to change. They’re comfortable and set in their ways. But in order to change, you have to be able to agitate people at times. And I think that’s something that’s very necessary for us to improve as a country.’”

Jack: with a dry laugh “Agitate people. That’s one way to put it. Another word for it might be ‘burn bridges.’”

Jeeny: “Or ‘build new ones.’ Depending on which side you’re standing.”

Host: A distant thunderclap rolled across the horizon — low, inevitable. The air smelled of rain and asphalt and the sharp tang of expectation.

Jack: “You really think agitation makes progress? All it seems to make lately is noise.”

Jeeny: “Noise is progress when silence has been the law. You don’t get to peace by pretending everything’s fine.”

Jack: “You don’t get to progress by tearing everything down either. People need stability — not constant outrage.”

Jeeny: “They need justice more than comfort.”

Host: The first drop of rain struck the metal rail, followed by another, until the rooftop shimmered like a mirror to the darkening sky.

Jack: “Justice, sure. But at what cost? Every protest, every fight — it divides people further. It feeds resentment. You can’t unite a country by constantly shaking its foundation.”

Jeeny: quietly, but firm “And you can’t fix a country by standing on a foundation that’s cracked. Sometimes you have to shake it so the truth falls out.”

Jack: “You sound like revolution with lipstick.”

Jeeny: “And you sound like fear dressed as wisdom.”

Host: The lightning flashed, white and clean, illuminating both faces — hers fierce and alive, his shadowed, torn between reason and conscience.

Jack: “Look, I get what he was doing. Kneeling during the anthem — it was brave, sure. But it was divisive. You can’t demand people listen to you while you offend the very symbols they worship.”

Jeeny: “Symbols only matter if they represent everyone. If they don’t, then silence is the real offense.”

Jack: “But you can’t fight patriotism with defiance.”

Jeeny: “Patriotism is defiance — against hypocrisy, against blind loyalty. You think Martin Luther King was comfortable? Rosa Parks? They were all agitators too. The kind that loved their country enough to make it angry.”

Host: The rain grew heavier, washing the dust off the rooftop, washing the world below into silver streaks and motionless puddles.

Jack: “You think people like change because you think people like truth. They don’t. They like comfort. They like certainty. Agitation just makes them dig their heels deeper.”

Jeeny: “Then dig deeper with them. Change isn’t about convincing everyone — it’s about confronting the ones who refuse to look.”

Jack: “You talk like confrontation is sacred.”

Jeeny: “It can be. When it’s born of conscience, not ego.”

Host: The wind whipped harder, pulling at their clothes, rattling loose signs from below. The world around them felt like it was holding its breath — suspended between the weight of tradition and the pull of transformation.

Jack: after a long silence “You know, I envy his conviction. To stand against everything — his career, the public, the flag — for something invisible. Faith like that’s rare.”

Jeeny: “Not invisible. Just inconvenient.”

Jack: turning to her “And you think inconvenience is a moral compass?”

Jeeny: “I think comfort is a moral narcotic. It numbs you until you forget injustice exists — until someone shakes you awake.”

Host: The rain hit harder now, a percussive rhythm against the steel roof. Jeeny’s voice rose slightly, carried by the wind, fierce yet fragile.

Jeeny: “Do you know what the word ‘agitate’ means? To stir, to shake, to keep from settling. That’s what Kaepernick meant. Change never comes from still water.”

Jack: looking out into the storm “Still water reflects. Turbulent water distorts.”

Jeeny: “And sometimes distortion is what makes people finally look.”

Host: The city lights blurred through the sheets of rain — reds, golds, blues bleeding into one another, indistinguishable now. The line between beauty and chaos had dissolved.

Jack: “You think he changed the world.”

Jeeny: “I think he changed the conversation. And sometimes that’s enough to start the world changing itself.”

Jack: “You really think a conversation can rewrite a country?”

Jeeny: “Every revolution starts as one.”

Host: Lightning struck closer this time, thunder cracking right after — sharp, immediate. The sky split, but neither flinched.

Jack: softly “You know, I watched his first kneel on live TV. Everyone around me called it disrespect. But I couldn’t stop watching. Something about it felt… right. Not comfortable. But right.”

Jeeny: nodding “That’s the power of agitation. It makes you feel before you think. It cuts through the noise and forces the soul to decide where it stands.”

Jack: “And you think that’s what we need now — more discomfort.”

Jeeny: “No. More conscience.”

Host: The storm began to ease, the thunder rolling farther away, replaced by the soft patter of rain — like applause fading into reflection. The city below shimmered in rebirth, its lights brighter now against the clean, wet air.

Jack: after a pause “Maybe you’re right. Maybe the country doesn’t need peace yet. Maybe it needs noise — the kind that wakes it up.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Change isn’t polite. It’s necessary.”

Jack: “Then I guess the real patriots aren’t the ones who stand still… but the ones who kneel for motion.”

Host: Jeeny smiled faintly, rain streaking down her face like tears she didn’t need to hide.

Jeeny: “And maybe the real love for a country isn’t comfort in its perfection — but courage in its imperfection.”

Host: The last of the storm drifted away, leaving behind the smell of earth and renewal. The two stood quietly, watching the city shimmer with new life, neither triumphant nor defeated — just awake.

And in that stillness after the storm, the truth of Kaepernick’s words lingered like lightning behind clouds:

To love something truly is to risk agitating it — because only the restless heart remembers how to change.