Sun and Moon - The Presidential Election of 2040

[President of the great nation of 🏳️‍⚧️]

You do realize [the artist now known as you] is a girl, right?

You are?!

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

You do realize [the artist now known as you] is a girl, right?

You are?!

I'm not a girl. Crystal is. And I think you can tell who she is in "real life." (Or at least her version of real life. Things get interesting when you're dealing with alternate realities.)

[_]

I don't think I would've given Trump OR, but everything else was part of my actual prediction lol.

[The Govanah Jake]

That seems about right.

[President of the great nation of 🏳️‍⚧️]

I'm not a girl. Crystal is. And I think you can tell who she is in "real life." (Or at least her version of real life. Things get interesting when you're dealing with alternate realities.)

I was confused, considering she had your username.

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

October 22, 2016 - West Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

“So,” I said, “we got all the houses on Oxford street, all the houses on Nassau, all the houses on West Jefferson-”

“Not all the houses on West Jefferson,” Deneb pointed out. “We only did the houses on this side of the strip mall.”

“And there’s also those houses all the way on Lebanon Avenue,” Amber added, trying to point to said houses on the list I was holding.

“That’s like, five houses total,” I pointed out, looking at Deneb and Amber sternly as we were standing at the intersection between Oxford Street, Lancaster Avenue, and North 57th Street. It was hard trying to speak over the din of the traffic, especially when you had this car blaring “Vote for Hillary Clinton!” driving up and down the neighborhood.

“So?” Deneb said. “These are still people who we should be getting to to get out the vote!”

“Really?” I said. I took a deep breath. When the Penn Dems leadership was organizing us into groups to canvass across Philly, of course the two high school buddies chose each other, and of course they convinced me to come along with them. Then again, it was also partly my fault, since after last night’s happenings I wanted to have at least one day away from Melissa. I could’ve gone with the other two freshmen, but they chose other people instead. Plus going with them might not have went any better than going with Deneb and Amber.

“Yeah! Really!” Deneb said.

“Okay, freshman babies,” I said, “here’s a life lesson. There is something called cost-benefit analysis. If the cost exceeds the benefits, you don’t do that action. Like in investing, if the expected yield is less than the money you need to put into a project, you don’t invest in it. Or with this. You need to go all the way around the strip mall to that one house on West Jefferson, then go all the way back for almost half a mile to Lebanon Avenue to get the other four. You need to expend a lot of energy to get to people who might not even be home right now.”

“And,” I added,” it’s 1:30 in the afternoon, we have to get back to Penn by three, we hadn’t had any lunch, and to be frank I am very hungry. There is a Popeyes in that strip mall we can go to and have a nice cheap lunch there. Now Amber, I know you don’t like fast food, but there’s also a supermarket there where you can get yourself all the apples and kale you want.”

“Oh don’t worry I brought my own lunch,” Amber said, patting the canvas bag she was carrying.

“Yeah,” Deneb said, “and then we lose Pennsylvania.”

“First of all,” I said, “Hillary’s not going to lose Pennsylvania. On FiveThirtyEight right now she has an 88 percent chance of winning the state. I checked it this morning. And even if the 12 percent did happen it won’t be because we decided to skip five houses and go to Popeye’s instead. So let’s just call it a day, mark those five as ‘not here,’ and go have lunch!”

“Isn’t that lying?” Deneb asked.

“They won’t know,” I answered.

“That is lying,” Deneb said. “And you’re the club president. A president should show some level of moral leadership, and right now you’re failing bigly.”

“Deneb,” I said, “it’s five houses. It’s not like we’re going full Trump in terms of immorality, scamming people and grabbing women by their pussies - or men by their dicks, since we’re girls - or whatever. Deneb, how many times have you jaywalked?”

“Um…” Deneb said.

“Exactly.”

“Thanks, Crystal,” Amber said, “thanks for putting that image in my head.”

“Sorry,” I said, “but that is what happens when I’m hungry.”

“Also that assumes that we’re all straight or bi,” Amber added. “Which we are, we’re both either bi or straight, but if that wasn’t true you would’ve been in some deep doo-doo.”

“Whatever,” I said, “just don’t grab people by their genitalia. Anyways, are you coming with me to Popeye’s or not?”

“Shouldn’t we have a vote?” Deneb asked.

“Fine,” I said, relenting. “Anyone who’s okay going to Popeye’s raise your hand.” I raised my hand. Neither Deneb or Amber did.

“Anyone who’s okay with going to these last five houses raise your hand.” As expected, Deneb raised her hand. To my surprise and disappointment, however, Amber also raised her hand halfway.

“Amber,” I said, “I know that you’re her best friend, but you have to agree that that idea is stupid, right?”

“I dunno,” she said, putting her head down. “It’s just that I have a gut feeling…”

“A gut feeling for what?” I said.

“A gut feeling that Trump will actually win Pennsylvania.”

“Really?” I said. “A state that hasn’t gone Republican since 1984 will soon be won by possibly the worst candidate in all of American history.”

“I mean, I don’t think it’s true, but it’s a strong gut feeling,” Amber said. “Just look at Clinton, and look at Trump. Trump is drawing these huge crowds and is speaking to all these people. He’s appealing to their base instincts and it’s working. Clinton is literally the ultimate elderly establishment politician who insults them. She’s boring, she’s corrupt-”

“She’s not corrupt,” I said.

“She’s corrupt,” Amber said. “Do you even know what the DNC did to clear the path for her and damage Bernie?”

“Okay, we’re not going there,” I said. “My point is that she will win. And Clinton’s clearly leading in the polls. She’s up by six points in Pennsylvania. Philadelphia and Pittsburgh will save her if all else fails.”

“I read a Michael Moore article,” Amber said, “that says that Trump will win. He’ll win the white working class voters-”

“We’re not going there either,” I said. “The polls show Clinton leading in Pennsylvania. Michael Moore’s just BSing about the white working class and how they’ll save Trump. They don’t even vote! Plus if Trump has the white working class or whatever they call them these days on his side, Clinton has the rising American electorate on her side.”

“Nah, my gut says Trump will win,” Amber said.

“Do you want me to explain what I just said? Your gut is wrong.”

“How about this. We make a bet. If Clinton wins I pay you twenty bucks, if Trump wins you pay me twenty. Deal?”

“Hmm.” Clinton was going to win, hopefully, so there didn’t seem to be a downside for me. Twenty free dollars. Good for two or three Chipotle meals. “Deal. But only if you go to Popeye’s with me.”

“Sure,” Amber said, reversing her previous reluctance. “My phone’s basically dead anyways, and Deneb’s is at five percent, so we’re basically stuck with you.” She held out her right hand, ready to seal the deal. (I wonder how awkward handshakes are for left-handed people.)

“Sure.” I shook her hand.

“Deneb,” Amber said, “I’m sorry, but you’re coming with us to Popeye’s.”

“Okay,” she said, checking her phone and recognizing the reality of the situation. “I’ll come.”

[MAINEiac4434]

Oh eff me Crystal is responsible for Trump

[morgankingsley]

Better him than Hillary

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

October 22, 2016 - University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

And there she was, standing on stage. She was to address the crowd, which stood under the harsh white lamps that wiped out the stars from the sky. She was the woman who would save the world. Hillary Rodham Clinton.

“Hello Penn!” Clinton said in a courageously loud voice that reverberated through the space we called the outdoors. “Hello Philadelphia!” Predictably, the crowd went wild, waving their Clinton-Kaine signs in support of their chosen candidate.

I looked around, keeping a particularly close eye on my children. There was Amber to my left and Melissa to my right. Jake and Emily were there as well, huddling together to preserve body heat. But did we need to? I was feeling it now, not just heat of the thousands in the crowd, but also the excitement of seeing the future President with my very own eyes.

Except, except, will she even be President?

Trump will win.

Those words that Amber said this afternoon. Those three stupid words from that stupid conversation, rattling in my head.

Trump will win.

Except that he won’t. Clinton will make sure of that. Pennsylvania will make sure of that. The people here will make sure of that. With the amount of Clinton excitement here, it was hard to believe otherwise.

“...as he has never lost an election!” Wait, who? Oh, Tim Kaine, that’s who. Nice! Just another reason why Clinton will defeat Trump, a small reason, but still a reason. Seriously, I really needed to stop getting distracted by my thoughts and just enjoy the night.

“And I wanted to thank a few other people,” Clinton added. Senator Bob Casey. Attorney General candidate Josh Shapiro. State representative Dwight Evans, who happened to be here at this rally. Senate candidate Katie McGinty, the other important woman of the night.

But who didn’t she give thanks to was just as important. Like McGinty’s rival, Senator Pat Toomey, a man who saw Donald Trump and his diabolical behavior, and yet stood by him.

And Clinton went on, not only about bipartisanship but also about Trump and his claims that the election would be rigged and how she’s the sane choice. The crowd kept going wild and chants of “HILLARY! HILLARY!” kept shaking the night. But I retreated back into my thoughts.

At first, they were happy thoughts. The vision of watching CNN on Election Night, Wolf Blitzer saying “We can project that Hillary Clinton will become the next President of the United States,” the excitement of finally having a female president here in America, the satisfaction of seeing the Republicans and the Trumpets and the racists failing so hard they will never get up again…

Trump will win.

Those three words again, those three damned words, dripping out like cold water from a leaky showerhead. Cold, painful words.

Trump will win.

Should I have listened to Amber and Deneb earlier today and have gone to those last houses? part of me said to myself. Nah, another part of me said, she will win.

All summer long, I assumed Clinton will win. Partly because the evidence said she will win. She has been up in Pennsylvania by six points, and she was still up in her other core states.

I grasped for more reasons, and almost on cue, Clinton gave one. “More than 200 million Americans are registered to vote,” I heard her say. “More than 50 million young people have registered! This could truly be the election where young people make their voices heard.”

50 million. And I’m one of them. Melissa’s one of them. Amber and Jake and Emily are among them. We will be the ones who will help Hillary save the world.

So there was that, and there was the excitement of having our first female president. But there was also the fact that the alternative, a Trump victory, was completely unthinkable.

I closed my mind, and for once, my usually grounded thought processes went wild. Clinton, the 69-year-old woman standing in front of us, behind bars. Elections cancelled. Syrian refugees blocked, my mentees ostracized, possibly deported.

And me? I am a woman, a feminist, and as the child of Chinese immigrants, a child of two worlds. Trump supporters looking at me, looking at my Asian face and seeing not an American, but a foreigner. You are not welcome here, they would say.

As if on cue, Clinton seemed to answer my fears. “It really is about everything you care about, every issue that matters to you…”

I took a deep breath. I recalled the incidents that Clinton recounted mere minutes ago. Trump calling Mexican immigrants rapists. Trump pummeling the Khan family with his Islamophobia. And of course Trump’s desire to grab pussies.

As the night wore on, I grew tired, and Hillary’s words and the crowd’s chants blurred into the starless October sky. “We will also be on the side of American workers!” I managed to hear Clinton say, if only because some girl in the crowd gave a loud and piercing “Love You!” right after.

“...no matter what zip code that child lives in!” Except that Trump’s America will care about zip codes, and race, and gender, and...

“...honest be about the jobs that will be created in the next 20 years...by technology, by robotics, by artificial intelligence.” Clinton cares, I care, Trump...nah...

“...because you know I love plans and I love details.” And Trump...yeah...

“If you believe we need to raise the minimum wage,” Raise to what? Ten? Fifteen? “You need to vote!” I snapped out of my trance, though not my stream of consciousness.

“If you believe we need to treat women and girls with dignity and respect, you got to vote!” I thought about myself - a woman, obviously, a woman who deserves her dignity and respect - but also my friends.

“If you want to stand up for our rights, stand up for women's’ rights, to defend Planned Parenthood...” Myself, and every other girl I know, but especially this girl I knew from high school who had an abortion...

“...to defend marriage equality, the LGBT community..” My bisexual roommate Lisa, Emily, Amber - wait is Amber actually lesbian/bi? I don’t know and I better not assume.

“...tackle systemic racism and make criminal justice reform a reality…” Myself again, for I’m Chinese, but also all my non-white friends. Especially Tanya. Damn Tanya, I love you, but you go to Brown and how do you have the time to share all these social justice posts?

“...defend voting rights, and take on the gun lobby, to defeat ISIS, to take on the threat of nuclear weapons, you need to vote!”

I felt a crumpled piece of paper hit my back. I turned around and picked it up. It was a campaign flyer: “Why Vote Clinton?” it said, the same ones we handed out while canvassing.

“This is a crossroads election,” Clinton continued as my thoughts raced. “There could not be two more different visions and agendas than between me and Donald Trump. And look, it’s easy to get cynical about politics, but these issues are deeply personal to families, our communities, our country, and the world.”

I put the crumpled paper in my purse, not sure where I would throw it out, or even if I wanted to.

“And I hope, when people look back on this election, when everything really is on the line, I hope you and everyone you know can say that you voted for a better America! And that’s what I’m asking tonight!”

Look back on this election? What will that future look like? Will there even be a future?

“If you care about climate change, you better vote! If you care about ending mass incarceration, you better vote!” Once again, Clinton’s words blurred as my thoughts consumed my attention. But not for long.

“...the future we want, the future that we can create, and remember: Love. Trumps. Hate.” And with that, Clinton concluded her speech to thunderous applause.

She stepped off, and the crowd started to disperse. It was now time to go, but for a second I didn’t realize that.

I felt a hand grab my arm. It was pixie cut girl. I woke up from my trance again. Amber wasn’t looking at me; she was looking at her phone instead, seemingly trying to distract herself from Clinton’s speech. Yet she was more attentive than I was. Holding my arm, she started walking me towards the exit. As the president of the College Dems club, I felt stupid being led around by a freshman, but I was too tired to care.

And the words came back, those three words.

Trump will win.

I sighed. I kept my eyes to the ground as Amber and Melissa guided me through the crowd, hearing everyone but seeing no one. I grabbed the crumpled flyer with my left hand and, as soon as I found a trash can, threw it out.

[P. Clodius Pulcher did nothing wrong]

Crystal Sun and Amber Moon were at the same rally in Philly as me!!!! Starstruck!

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

October 22, 2016 - Interstate 95, en route to Baltimore

The cold of steel and glass melted into nothingness before reforming into warm, humid air. Above me, the sky was blue. Below me, I stood on a two-lane road that stretched until the horizon in both directions. In all directions, the landscape was dead; the ground was cracked, and what was left of the grass was now brown and undergoing the slow transcendence into dust. To my left was an abandoned power plant, whose walls were overgrown with dead vines and painted with the graffiti of artists long unknown. Coal, probably, it probably burned coal. To my right was a bridge that led to nowhere; if you got on it, you would fall off the end and crash into the dusty ground below.

I checked my smartphone. Eight o’clock. I had to go to work now. Without thinking, I ran inside the abandoned coal plant, past the rusted chain link fencing and the dying Joshua trees. I did trip on one thing, a Trump-Pence sign that was caked in dust. Except that Pence’s name wasn’t on it. “Pristin,” it said in place of Pence’s name.

Unlike the outside, the inside of the building was still alive. There was a hallway that led to several wooden doors, not unlike in a university hall or office building. The floor was patterned with blue and white tiles and the walls were painted a flat eggshell. I could hear a soft hum from the fluorescent lamps above.

I went in the first door on my right, which led to a room labeled “102.” The room locked a lot like the hallway - blue and white tiles with eggshell walls. A single fluorescent light fixture was mounted on the ceiling. Right below it, in the exact center, there was a single computer with a brown chair, just for me.

I sat down on it and started coding. I didn’t know what I was coding, nor even what language I was coding in, though I did know that I was coding in Eclipse. Without conscious thought, I typed and coded something. What was I doing? Where am I? Who am I? Unable to answer any of those three questions, I continued to numbly type. Text and code appeared on the screen, designed for some unknown purpose that was to be beyond my understanding.

I heard someone walk in. It was a balding white man who looked like Mike Pence, except that he was bald. He wore a suit and tie for his top, but for his bottom wore a pair of dusty jeans and dusty sneakers. “Good morning Crystal, what’ya doin’?” he said, smiling.

I look at him and noticed that the door that used to be there had disappeared. In its place was more wall. “Hey Peyton,” I said. Somehow I knew his name and was on good terms with him, even though I knew nobody like him in real life. He did sound like Bryan Sanfiel though, this one guy from my Machine Learning class, even though Bryan was Hispanic and spoke with a soft Cuban accent.

“How’s your program going along?”

“Great!” Except I really had no idea. Hard to get an idea if you had no idea what you were even creating.

“Good, good,” he said. He grabbed a chair from nowhere and sat on it. He had a resigned expression on his face. “I’m just coming for your performance evaluation.”

“Okay,” I said. I tensed up. Performance evaluations, tests, grades, for me they were all the stuff of nightmares. I hope this wasn’t going to go bad.

“So far you’ve been doing excellent. You’re one of our best workers.”

“Thanks,” I said, relieved that I didn’t fail. I wondered if there were other workers here.

“You’re welcome,” Peyton said, chuckling. It gave me a smile on my face. Far from threatening, Peyton seemed super cool, someone who gets along with young people like me despite his age. “Now, there is one thing that I need you to do.”

“What?” I asked.

“Watch this.”

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Good question. Look outside.”

I did what he asked and I looked outside. The sky was still blue, but the ground was now lush with grass and dandelions. Around the window there was a tall wooden fence. Two platforms stood in the middle of the lawn.

From the left came three people. Two were girls, both wearing orange jumpsuits. One of them had pink hair and for some reason pink wings. The other had light brunette hair and no wings. I recognized them. Amber and Deneb.

The third person was male. He altered between very short and very tall, but otherwise kept the same face. He was a young man with pale skin and blue hair. He wore a pantsuit like Hillary Clinton despite being male, and had a blue scarf wrapped around his neck.

“What are they doing here?” I asked.

“Oh, they’re our prisoners. They’re going to be executed right now.”

I looked at the three. Pantsuit Guy now had something that looked like a flamethrower. As a test, he fired it in the sky. Yep, flamethrower, one that fired high-energy blue fire. Behind Pantsuit Guy, Amber wrinkled her nose and flapped her wings. Deneb didn’t flinch at all.

Then Pantsuit Guy came into the room - the window must not have any glass, it seems. - and walked up to me. “Open your arms,” he said in a high-pitched voice. Not fully understanding what was going on, I complied to Pantsuit Guy’s request and he plopped the flamethrower into my arms.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” I asked.

“What do you mean ‘what am I supposed to do?’” Peyton said. He was no longer smiling, but he wasn’t mad either, just slightly annoyed. “You’re supposed to execute them!”

“Execute them? Me?”

“Yeah of course!” Peyton said. “That was your job!” He started laughing; I couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not. “Don’t tell me you forgot your job!”

“I didn’t,” I said, not knowing what my job was beyond coding and executing my friends.

“Listen,” Peyton said, standing up and walking towards me. “I know it’s hard, but once you execute them I’ll take you out for ice cream.”

Once he said that, without much notice I started moving. Not walking, not running, just sliding frictionlessly on the floor. I went faster and faster, pulled by a mysterious force towards Deneb and Amber. I knew I had to load and aim the flamethrower at them, or something bad would happen.

Ten feet, then five feet, I pointed the barrel and put my finger on the trigger. Then four feet, then three...

I opened my eyes. I took a deep breath and looked outside. Complete darkness, with only the yellow of the headlights and streetlights being able to puncture it. These few and tiny embers entered into your field of view and fled shortly after. Occasionally, a leaf or insect would make a small twick before continuing on its doomed journey. It was a reminder that only a few centimeters of metal and glass separated me from certain death on the Interstate.

I slowly lifted my head up. It was painful; my neck and shoulder muscles were sore, and some of my hair got trapped in the crevices of the glass-metal interface. I looked around. Nobody except the rest of the College Dems and a few senior citizens in somber coats were on the Greyhound, looking ghoulish under the dead white of the fluorescent lamps. All the other seats were empty. The four grey walls of the Greyhound rattled with every bump and pothole on the Interstate, rocking us left and right, hither and thither.

I turned back around. In front of me was the driver’s seat; the driver himself was fixated on the road, in complete ignorance of the souls he was carrying. Above me, I saw the remains of a dead fly trapped inside the fluorescent lamp. The decaying corpse was big enough to cast a shadow on my leg.

I leaned back against the window and closed my eyes again. The images were back again, this time as still images, but no less frightening. The factory. The Trump-Pristin sign. Peyton. Amber the Angel and Deneb the Doomed. Pantsuit Guy. The flamethrower.

And now, something new. I don’t have synesthesia, but these words were red with Republican blood. They burned into my head like Pantsuit Guy’s blue fire.

Trump will win.

And then the images were gone. There was just darkness. No light, just darkness. I shivered.

I felt something warm on my shoulder, something heavy. I opened my eyes and tried to turn my head around. It was Amber, her head resting against my body. I felt the strands of her short blond hair gently tickling me, the warmth of her skin against my own, the sound of her breathing as she slept. It was a totally different Amber than the sharp and sardonic Amber who likes to argue with me. Nor was it the Angel Amber of my dream, the Amber I was about to kill in a burst of fire. It was her true self, one who helps others whenever they need it the most.

It felt comforting. No matter what happens, even if Trump wins, even if he took away our rights, our identities, or our voices, there was one thing he could never take away from us. Our friendship.

Trump will win.

But.

But what?

It will be okay.

[P. Clodius Pulcher did nothing wrong]

im cryin in the club rn

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

Atlas Forum
- Presidential Elections - Analysis and Discussion
-- 2016 U.S. Presidential Election (Moderators: AndrewTX, Likely Voter, Justice TJ)
--- Anyone went to Hillary's UPenn rally?

razze Sr. Member ★★★★ Posts: 304

Anyone went to Hillary's UPenn rally? « on: October 23, 2016, 11:05:57 am »Did anyone go to Hillary Clinton's rally yesterday evening? It was so cool seeing her there!

Crystal Clear Clintonite nj_dem YaBB God ★★★★★ Posts: 1359

Anyone went to Hillary's UPenn rally? « Reply #1 on: October 23, 2016, 11:08:17 am »I was there too! Yeah it was very exciting, though I was really tired by then.

Peebs YaBB God ★★★★★ Posts: 4112

Anyone went to Hillary's UPenn rally? « Reply #2 on: October 23, 2016, 11:10:44 am »Dang why do you college students get to do everything fun?

Zombie Spenstar Spenstar3D YaBB God ★★★★★ Posts: 1301

Anyone went to Hillary's UPenn rally? « Reply #3 on: October 23, 2016, 11:12:31 am »I mean, I would've loved to go, but I'm several thousand miles and an ocean way, so yeah. You must be logged in to read this quote. Not all college students, alas.

the_walrus Newbie ★ Posts: 5

Anyone went to Hillary's UPenn rally? « Reply #4 on: October 23, 2016, 11:22:44 am »If only Illinois had Clinton rallies. TBH I wish she would campaign more in the Midwest. Like Michigan and Wisconsin? Bernie won both states so it would be good if Clinton could connect with their voters more.

razze Sr. Member ★★★★ Posts: 304

Anyone went to Hillary's UPenn rally? « Reply #5 on: October 23, 2016, 12:04:11 am » You must be logged in to read this quote. Why? Michigan is Titanium D and she's winning comfortably in Wisconsin. Plus PA has more electoral votes.

[Blackacre]

I'm touched

[President of the great nation of 🏳️‍⚧️]

I'm touched

Although I was wearing a G-NC at the time.

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

I'm touched

Although I was wearing a G-NC at the time.

Sorry. You do change your avatar a lot, so it's kind of hard to keep track.

[P. Clodius Pulcher did nothing wrong]

I'm touched

Me three!

[GlobeSoc]

heh

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

***

Deneb Luna sat in her Georgetown dorm with a pen in her right hand and an absentee ballot in her left. She breathed heavily with excitement. Now was the time when, for the second time in her life, she will participate in the greatest democratic process on the face of the Earth.

She had been anxiously waiting for this moment. A week passed between the moment she sent her absentee ballot application and when she got it in the mail. Good thing she checked her mail every other day. Hopefully Amber got her ballot too.

She looked at the choices. “Republican: Donald J. Trump/Michael R. Pence” was the first choice. She mocked that decision by air-circling their names on the ballot with the back end of the pen before moving on to the next one.

“Democrat: Hillary R. Clinton/Tim M. Kaine.” Ah, this was the choice she shall be making shortly. But Deneb wasn’t ready to fill in the bubble yet; like good food, it takes time to take in a moment of unprecedented gravity.

Hillary Clinton, the first woman president of the United States, a woman of unprecedented experience and caliber, and the only one who would save America from a monstrosity like Donald Trump. She’ll need every bit of help she could get to defeat the Donald, and Deneb was happy to participate.

Would I really help her? Deneb thought. She’s voting absentee in Georgia, a state that was Republican for as long as she could remember. But in recent years, Georgia had been close. Clinton probably won’t win Georgia, if current polls were any indication, but there was the outside chance that she could. And if that happens, Deneb and Amber would have played a small part in changing the course of world history. More than if I voted in DC.

And with her trusty Bic pen, Deneb voted for Hillary Rodham Clinton and Timothy Michael Kaine.

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

***

“How could you do this?” everybody around him kept saying. “You’re a Muslim! Trump said he would ban Muslims! How could you dare support him!”

Isaac Hassan laughed silently as he examined his Michigan absentee ballot. Of course he’s a Muslim, and a proud one at that! And he’s also a Trump supporter, and also a proud one at that. As the president of the JHU College Republicans, he was the one who convinced the rest of the club to endorse Trump, when every other College Republican group jumped on the Never-Trump train like a bunch of scared rats. He snorted. RINOs, that’s what they were.

In his mind, he cycled through the dumb statements everyone made over the past year and a half. Particularly bemusing were people who insisted that Trump would not allow him back into the country if he ever left, or more brazenly, that Trump would outright deport him. Foolish liberals, always trying to exaggerate to make their case and using Muslims as political props. What Trump really meant was he would do everything to stop ISIS and other terrorist groups from coming to American shores. Less terrorists, less terrorist incidents, and less Islamophobia.

If anything Trump would be the best President for Muslims America has had in a long time! Unlike the warmonger known as Hillary Clinton, he would stop American drones and American imperialism from destroying the lives of innocent civilians there. He would also be tough on Iran, the great enemy of Sunni Muslims like him. And then there were the more standard Republican reasons he had. Lower taxes. Obamacare repeal. The good stuff.

He looked down on his ballot again and placed his pen tip next to the Republican ticket before eying the words “Michigan Absentee Ballot” that were printed on it. He sighed. Michigan hadn’t gone for a Republican since...since....he sighed again, peeved that he couldn’t remember the exact date. It had been Democratic longer than he had been alive, that’s for sure. But Trump was popular among the white blue-collar class in his state. Could he be the one?

Again, the liberals had always said “Of course not! Trump is so disgusting and racist he couldn’t even win his own gilded tower!” But Isaac had hope. When had those liberals ever been right before?

And with that hope, he voted for Donald John Trump and Michael Richard Pence.

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

***

Better him than Hillary, Morgan Kingsley thought as he stood in the voting booth. He looked at the different options he had in front of him. Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton. Gary Johnson and Jill Stein. And there was machinery to input write-ins, for the trolls and disgruntled folks who wanted to vote for Harambe.

He put his finger next to Trump’s name, ready to pull the lever for the former businessman, but he hesitated. Could he really vote for someone like Trump?

“He’s a racist, he’s a rapist and a pussygrabber!” his liberal friends always said. They have said these same words for the past one and a half years, and it would only get worse. He was going to go to Johns Hopkins on Election Night to see his cousin (the reason why he was voting early in the first place), and he shuddered at the thought of encountering actual social justice warriors in their natural habitat.

But...what if they were right? Morgan agonized over his choices. He didn’t vote based on personality or charisma or any of that kind of superficial detail. He voted based on policy. Hillary Clinton had really bad policy, but it was still policy, and detailed ones at that. In other words, she had an ethos. What did Trump had? His promises, his bombast...his racism, his misogyny...

He moved his finger between Trump’s and Johnson’s names for a good five minutes. Do I want to vote for someone who will win? he thought. Winning was pretty good; he liked winning, and Trump liked winning too. But maybe there were some things that were bigger than winning.

And as such, in that booth, Morgan voted for Gary Earl Johnson and William Floyd Weld.

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

***

Amber Moon was tired from campaigning for Clinton for the past two months. Now, she could relax and do the relatively sedate activity of voting absentee. She grabbed a black pen from her drawer - there were many pens in that drawer, of various colors, all scrambled in disorganized harmony - and uncapped it.

She looked over her choices. Okay there was Trump, who she would never vote for. There was Johnson, who she would doubly never vote for. And then there was Clinton.

Should she vote for Clinton? That was the question. On one hand, if Clinton lost and Trump won, the result would be disastrous. Maybe not completely apocalyptic - any other Republican would implement at least half of the policies Trump supported, and was there really any democracy left in America for it to lose?

But on the other hand, Clinton was no leftist. It was clear that the establishment cleared the way for her because it was “her turn.” And in turn, they wanted to screw over Bernie during the primaries. And what kind of self-proclaimed leftist gives speeches at Goldman Sachs and supports unethical trade deals like the TPP?

And it goes way back, all the way back to her husband’s administration. The crime bill that led to the mass incarceration and police brutality crisis we see today. The destruction of welfare that destroyed a crucial part of America’s old safety net. Then there were the failures of Clinton herself. Her vote on the Iraq War that led to the rise of ISIS and the fall of America’s world standing. Her role in the 2009 coup in Honduras that brought a new reign of terror to that country. And people like Deneb and Crystal think that she’s this paragon of human rights!

Did I really just think that? Amber realized. She looked at her ballot again. I love you Deneb. I guess I love you too Crystal, you’re a good person. But Hillary Clinton is not a good person.

Of course, Trump was a worse person, and if she lived in a swing state she would obviously vote for Clinton. But Georgia, despite what some delusional pundits plus Deneb have said, was not a swing state. So it was easy for Amber to skip Clinton’s bubble. Sorry, I campaigned for you, but now you’re on your own.

So what should she do now? One option was to write in Jill Stein, but that wasn’t going to happen. Despite her Green Party label, she was anything but a left-wing paragon. What kind of candidate panders to vaccine denialists and advocates for crystal healing?

So who else? She could go for the same choice she did in the primaries. And that was what she did; with her pen, she wrote down “Bernard Sanders” in the write-in section.

And who for vice president? Maybe Elizabeth Warren, who if anything should be the first female President instead of Hillary. But Amber had another person in mind. She put down “Keith Maurice Ellison,” the name of Melissa Michova’s congressman, next to Bernie’s name before skipping all the other tickets and sealing the ballot.

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

Author's Note/Retcon Warning:

The picture for this post describing Barron Trump as the world's richest man has been taken down (a risk you'll always face when using Internet pics). In our timeline (OTL), that picture was of Daniel Snokes, an Australian model based in South Korea.

So in its place I used an actual picture of Barron Trump and hopefully that'll be more stable. But don't worry if you're a Daniel Snokes fan. He'll come back as a different person, one who's probably even more powerful than TTL's Barron.

Also, side note regarding our universe's Barron Trump: He recently joined D.C. United’s U-12 squad.

Anyways, next update: Election Night 2016

[MAINEiac4434]

Oh goddammit Amber

[P. Clodius Pulcher did nothing wrong]

Oh goddammit Amber