Acapulco, Mexico— The storm hit hard. Too hard, some say. They call it Hurricane John, but in the rum-soaked bars and quiet whispers of the beachfront, there’s a new name—weather warfare.
Anarchapulco, the annual global conference where freedom seekers gather to trade ideas of liberty and independence, was the target. A peaceful event by nature, set in this hurricane-touched city of contradictions, Acapulco. This year, though, nature’s fury seemed unusually precise. The winds howled and the rain came down in buckets, drowning roads and shattering windows with a force that felt almost directed.
There’s talk, as there always is. Some say it’s coincidence, just bad timing. Others aren’t so sure. Old-timers with weathered faces sit by the shore, watching the waves come in, smoking and shaking their heads. They’ve seen storms, plenty of them. This one felt different, they say. Not natural. Not right.
Hurricane John rapidly intensified into a major storm before slamming into Acapulco, Mexico.
— Shadow of Ezra (@ShadowofEzra) October 10, 2024
The hurricane reversed course, regained power, and struck the city again, leaving scientists, authorities, and locals stunned by the unexpected surge.
Acapulco has become a haven for… pic.twitter.com/AKBHSlQesg
“We’ve heard about it before,” says Miguel, a fisherman who’s spent his life on these waters. “The Americans, the Russians—they say they can control the weather. But why here? Why now?”
Why indeed? Why during a gathering that promotes resistance against centralized power? Why just a few months before the world’s eyes turned to Acapulco?
The organizers of Anarchapulco aren’t quick to jump on conspiracy theories, but they’re not ruling anything out either. A group known for questioning the status quo, they’re now left wondering if this storm was more than an act of God. Was it an act of man?
The devastation speaks for itself—roofs ripped off, palm trees uprooted, the streets littered with debris. The city’s been hit before, but the timing of this storm raises eyebrows. “You can’t help but think it was too perfect,” said one tourist, clutching a soaked pamphlet about Anarchapulco celebrating its 10th anniversary this year. “This storm wasn’t just bad luck.”
Yet, there’s no proof. Just stories, suspicions, and the relentless questions that linger after a disaster of this kind. Could governments, in their reach for control, wield the weather as a weapon?
For now, the evidence is washed away with the rain. The sun will rise again over Acapulco, but for the freedom-seekers of Anarchapulco, a storm of uncertainty remains.
The question of whether we can trust the sky may now be the one that haunts us most.
The writer is a contributor to the Chicago Tribune, specializing in international events and shadowed narratives.
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