Sun and Moon - The Presidential Election of 2040

[Kyle Rittenhouse is a Political Prisoner]

Oh goddammit Amber

[Blackacre]

Oh goddammit Amber

[scutosaurus]

I just read through this whole timeline- it's so good! My favorite part's got to be that Ossoff expands MARTA to actually be good, but everything else is a nice touch too.

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

November 8, 2016 - Maxie’s Pizza Bar, Baltimore, Maryland

7:00 PM

I was checking my phone when Lester Holt started talking on NBC. “And here we go, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Decision Night in America here at NBC Democracy Plaza. It’s 7 PM in the east and polls have just closed in 6 states.” Without a pause he presented the first projection of the night. “NBC projects that Donald Trump will win the votes of Indiana and Kentucky. Vermont goes to Hillary Clinton.”

I put down my phone and glued my eyes on the flatscreen. It was kind of difficult; my booth was a ways away and it was hard to see the text, even with my contacts on. Lester Holt kept talking. “We’re watching Virginia, which is too close to call. Georgia, also too close to call. South Carolina, too early to call.”

Donald Trump (R-NY)/Gov. Mike Pence (R-IN) - 19 EVs
Sec. Hillary Clinton (D-NY)/Sen. Tim Kaine (D-VA) - 3 EVs

I looked down at my phone again. There they were on my phone too - Kentucky and Indiana blood red, Vermont sky blue. Not a good start, but it was what it was, a start. Kentucky being red was expected. And those New Hampshire counties that were going for Trump only had, I dunno, five percent of precincts reporting? Not the best news, but we can pull through. And of course we were going to pull through; Hillary was going to win or die trying.

I didn’t notice Amber when she walked in. “Oh, um, hi,” I said once I noticed I was under her shadow.

“Hi,” Amber said, “this is the place, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry I was in a bit of a rush,” Amber said as she hastily took off her black jacket, revealing a plain pink shirt underneath. She dumped it in the seat opposite of mine, next to Melissa, who didn’t notice her one bit. She was staring off into space, just like the blue-and-white Hillary Clinton face on her shirt. “I was trying to do laundry today but the dryer was broken. Had to start it twice and then use a different one. Anyways what did I miss?”

“Not much,” I said. “They called Kentucky, Indiana, and Vermont. Not close states obviously. They’re also not ready to call Virginia and Georgia.”

“Georgia, ayy, my home state,” pixie cut girl said as she looked for an empty seat. There were none; the bar was packed with aspiring politicos determined to see a historic moment, the moment when the first woman president of the United States is elected.

“That’s great,” I said, “you have state pride. But I’m not counting on it going for Clinton.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Amber said as she resigned to sitting where she put her jacket down. Melissa moved herself slightly towards the window to make room for Amber, not even making eye contact towards both of us. “I kind of accepted that.”

“But Virginia should go to Clinton,” I said. “Hopefully.” Hopefully NoVA pulls through and gives Clinton the state.

Finally Melissa lifts her head from her phone. “Are you excited Amber?” she said, gently putting her iPhone back on the off-white table. “We’re going to get our first woman president!”

“Eh, not really.”

“Why?” Melissa said, seemingly flabbergasted. “This is going to be great!”

“I’m just tired,” Amber said. I understood, given the soul-sucking nature of doing laundry in college and also the stress of six months of this ugly presidential race. “Plus do you really think Hillary’s going to win?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Really.”

“Um, yeah.” My eyes quickly darted to look at the ceiling before looking at Amber again.

“Plus,” pixie cut girl added, “we’re not going to win the House, and there’s a good chance we won’t win the Senate. What’s President Clinton gonna do then?”

“Not be Trump, I guess,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. I smiled. “You know how important that face is right?”

“I know,” Amber said. I suspected insincerity, but I didn’t comment.

I checked the New York Times’ election tracker. I smiled. Clinton was still the favorite. Most electoral maps still led to her victory. No, all of them do. How in the hell will Trump win Michigan or Pennsylvania? How? They called it the Blue Wall for a reason.

I smiled some more. There was nothing to be worried about tonight. Absolutely nothing...

I looked around. Practically the entire College Dems club was packed in this bars. Maybe a few independents or Republicans too, who knows. I counted the heads. There was Jake and Emily, the other two DemCon goers, sitting next to each other at the table in front of us. There was Brandon Steinberg, our vice president, who at usual had his heavy gaming laptop with him. Because of this, he sat all the way in the back where he wouldn’t disturb anyone with his obnoxious equipment. There was Hailey Koner, our treasurer, sitting with Brandon, along with Erin Schneiderman, our secretary. Both of them sat right under the other TV, which also had election night coverage, but by CNN.

I looked back at Melissa and Amber. I kept smiling, though now it was more of a fake grin than a genuine smile. But that didn’t mean I was sad or worried. Tonight was an exciting night, and when you’re excited time moves fast. I picked up my phone and checked the time.

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

7:30

And right on cue, the drumbeats of NBC sounded again.

“Polls have just closed in two very important swing states,” Lester Holt’s voice said. “The state of Ohio, too close to call at this hour. North Carolina, too early to call. West Virginia, NBC projects when the votes are counted Donald Trump wins West Virginia.”

Donald Trump (R-NY)/Gov. Mike Pence (R-IN) - 24 EVs
Sec. Hillary Clinton (D-NY)/Sen. Tim Kaine (D-VA) - 3 EVs

Okay, it’s West Virginia, no surprises there. Yes, Trump’s leading, but that lead is going to close quite shortly.

I looked at Amber. Her eyes were darting back and forth, her left hand cupped over her mouth. Seeing me, she put it back on her lap. “Where’s the food?” she asked.

“Over there,” I said, pointing to a whole stack of pies lying on a table. A cylinder of paper plates was conveniently located next to the stack.

I shivered, and I didn’t know why. It was cold outside, but it was warm indoors. More likely, I was shivering from fear, fear of what tonight would bring.

I took a deep breath. Calm down, Crystal. You are a big girl. No, a strong woman. A nasty woman! You can deal with this.

I looked at Virginia. Trump was leading. But I knew that NoVA calls late. Hillary’s still got this.

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

8:00 PM

“Florida, we’ve been watching that raw vote come in, right now that’s too close to call. Pennsylvania, another big one, battleground state, too early to call. New Hampshire, too early to call.”

Pennsylvania, also too close to call. Interesting.

“Now we got a bunch of states we can project.” And the names came coming in. Alabama. Connecticut. Delaware. D.C. Illinois. Maryland. Massachusetts. Mississippi. New Jersey. Oklahoma. Rhode Island. Tennessee. Plus South Carolina, which was called ten minutes ago.

“Let’s look at the count right now,” Lester Holt’s voice said as the two candidates reappeared on TV, side by side.

Sec. Hillary Clinton (D-NY)/Sen. Tim Kaine (D-VA) - 75 EVs
Donald Trump (R-NY)/Gov. Mike Pence (R-IN) - 66 EVs

Good! Hillary was leading again, as it should be.

“Now couple others we want to mention,” Holt continued. “Missouri is too early. Maine is also too early, but Clinton’s leading there.”

Again, as it should be. Missouri’s going to Trump, I knew that, but not right now. Not that Clinton needs Missouri. Trump does needs Missouri, though, and that’s one of his many problems; he simply has an uphill battle in terms of states needed to win.

There was Florida on the television screen. Hillary was leading now, 49 percent to Trump’s 48. Not bad. Hopefully she can keep that edge for the rest of the night. Hopefully.

But eh, if Trump somehow wins Florida - probable, but not something I thought about too often - he still needs to break the Blue Wall. No break, no way to 270.

But Pennsylvania being closed to call...that was disconcerting. That was supposed to be a pretty easy state for Clinton, being part of the Blue Wall and all that. It was called for Obama instantly, right? I couldn’t remember. It was starting to get late, and my head was hurting, even though I stuck with water and not beer for this night.

I look at Amber and Melissa, the two bottle blondes sitting side by side. Amber was tense, staring up at the ceiling as if she was a cat trying to hunt a fly on the ceiling. Trying to see if there really was something up there, I looked up for a second - nothing was there, not a fly nor something else - and looked down.

Then I looked at Melissa. She was staring at the wall to my right, where nobody sat because all of our jackets were placed there. Simultaneously, she was smiling. In her hand was a beer stein, half empty. I wasn’t sure if her happiness came from her expectation of Clinton winning or from the Natty Boh.

I tried to imitate Melissa’s smile. There was reason to. New Jersey and Maryland, my home and adopted state respectively, were immediately called for Clinton. Which wasn’t a surprise. I looked at Amber. They still haven’t called Georgia yet. Funny. Then I looked at Melissa, and thought about when her home state of Minnesota will be called. It’s Democratic, it’s part of the Wall, but at the same time it’s part of the Midwest, which Trump seems to be doing pretty well in. And if Pennsylvania wasn’t being instantly called, neither would Minnesota probably.

But we’ll see when we get there. For now, Clinton is leading the EV count, and we will take what we can get.

[MAINEiac4434]

I am hanging on every word.

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

8:30 PM

The Republicans kept the House. And Arkansas. Great. I mean, neither development was surprising, but the fact that the Republicans were on a roll was not good.

Sec. Hillary Clinton (D-NY)/Sen. Tim Kaine (D-VA) - 75 EVs
Donald Trump (R-NY)/Gov. Mike Pence (R-IN) - 72 EVs

Were they on a roll? Clinton now had 75 electoral votes, Trump 72. He’s catching up, certainly. But it’s only temporary. He’s going to lose the West Coast, obviously. But before then, in the states that have yet to be called? Ohio? Probably going to him. Pennsylvania? That can go to Clinton.

But will it? Because it’s kind of like a reverse Virginia; the urban areas call first, then the rural areas. Clinton’s leading there right now, but it’s pretty likely that once the rural areas do call, it’s Trumps. And just like that, the Blue Wall would collapse.

But that was just one of many possibilities. Clinton could still win, even if it wasn't going to be entirely smooth sailing.

I looked at where Melissa sat. Now, she was no longer smiling. In fact, she was no longer there.

“Where’s Melissa?” I said.

“What do you mean where’s Melissa?” Amber said. “Haven’t you noticed that she left ten minutes ago?”

“I was watching the television!” I said.

“Wow, someone who ‘smart enough’ to get into Facebook and Google doesn’t notice one of her friends leaving,” Amber said, her hands moving up and down like a seesaw to form some sort of mocking gesture.

“Where did she go?” I said, trying to brush off Amber’s blunt words.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Probably back home.”

“Really?” I put my chin on my hands, trying to position my elbows on the table. “She gave up that easily?”

“Give up?” Amber said. “You should be surprised that I’m still here! Clinton’s losing!”

“She’s not losing,” I insisted.

“You think that these states aren’t going to go to Trump?”

“Just because they aren’t called yet doesn’t mean that they’re Trump’s for the taking.”

At that moment, at 8:42 PM, Lester Holt thought that this was the perfect opportunity to interrupt us. “Breaking news, NBC News has just called Missouri for Trump. Trump will win the Show Me State. Previously a bellwether during the 20th century, Missouri has cast its vote for the Republican Party in all elections since 2000, and it looks like it will again vote Republican in 2016.”

Donald Trump (R-NY)/Gov. Mike Pence (R-IN) - 82 EVs
Sec. Hillary Clinton (D-NY)/Sen. Tim Kaine (D-VA) - 75 EVs

“You were saying?” Amber said. “And Trump’s leading in Florida. Look.”

I looked up. 49 to 48, but this time in Trump’s favor. I gulped, but then I reminded myself that this may just be another fluctuation. Trump led Clinton early in the night, then Clinton caught up. Now Trump has caught up himself. Clinton’s probably going to catch up again. Probably. The votes are 91 percent in, so the window is closing.

“He’s leading in Virginia. Clinton’s leading in Pennsylvania, but it’s a Rust Belt state that can go to Trump.”

“Pennsylvania is not going to go to Trump,” I said, not sure if I fully believed the statement myself.

“It’s gonna go to Trump.”

“Is not.”

“Whatever.”

I slumped back in my seat and leaned against the jacket pile. I must’ve made a small dust cloud as my head landed on the pile, for that was all that I could smell. Maybe I could fall asleep in this cloud of fabric and feathers, and wake up once this living nightmare is over.

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

9:00 PM

“Polls have closed in 14 more states,” Lester Holt said. “NBC News projects that Hillary Clinton will win in her home state of New York.”

Good.

“And we got a slew of Trump calls coming in,” he added. “In Texas, Trump’s the projected winner. In Kansas, Trump wins. Louisiana, Trump wins. Nebraska, Trump wins. We project that North Dakota will go to Trump, as well as South Dakota and Wyoming.”

Not good.

And then they showed the two bar graphs, one red like cherry jello, the other blue like a blue coconut slurpee. And the cherry jello towered over the coconut.

Donald Trump (R-NY)/Gov. Mike Pence (R-IN) - 148 EVs
Sec. Hillary Clinton (D-NY)/Sen. Tim Kaine (D-VA) - 104 EVs

More states, all too close or early to call. Arizona. Colorado. Michigan. Minnesota - well, there goes Melissa’s state. New Mexico. Wisconsin. And of course, Florida, where Trump was still, frustratingly enough, winning.

When will Clinton pull through? Was she even able to? Did they even have enough votes left in Miami-Dade and Palm Beach?

I put my head under my hands. Clinton could still do it. But now she was at a disadvantage. She got her safe states, but can she get her swing states? Maybe, but maybe not. Probably not Florida, at the rate this was going.

Through the house I made with my hands, I looked at Amber. She too had a very disconcerted look on her face. I wasn’t sure what she was looking at, but I knew she was looking at something.

I moved my eyes to the right. Melissa was still not there, even after twenty minutes. I took a page from her book and got up, not to leave the bar completely, but to walk around the bar, just to see everyone’s faces.

And what did I see? The joviality we had when we walked in, the expectation that Clinton will win and win bigly, had evaporated completely. We still had the expectation that Clinton will win, but only smally.

Bigly, smally, shoot. Why, Trump, why did you have to ruin our vocabulary? Why did you even enter this race? And if you win, why. Why is everything going the way it is?

It was also less crowded, now that people like Melissa had left. Both Emily and Jake had left. So did a few other freshmen and sophomores. The upperclassmen had more tenacity, but only somewhat more.

I turned around, feeling my hair twirl around in the air. Geez, even my hair had sweat. I saw Amber’s head in her arms. I couldn’t tell if she was tired or if she was scared. I knew I felt both at that time right now.

I sat down and took a long at the counter on the opposite side of the aisle. There was a bartender cleaning a beer stein. He had a bored look on his face, neither excited nor afraid of everything that’s going on right now.

Maybe in an hour, when the do the next batch of calls, it would be better. Probably not; I think they call some very Republican states at that moment. But one could hope.

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

10:00 PM

I looked at the map. They called Montana and only Montana. Everything else, Iowa, Nevada, and Utah was still uncalled. Not that it made everything better. Idaho will go Republican. It looked like Utah will do the same, McMullin aside. I had hope in Nevada; that would be our saving grace.

Donald Trump (R-NY)/Gov. Mike Pence (R-IN) - 151 EVs
Sec. Hillary Clinton (D-NY)/Sen. Tim Kaine (D-VA) - 104 EVs

I sighed. They will call California and the other Western states in an hour. That will boost Clinton. In a very brief moment of levity, I recalled a map I saw on Atlas when trying to sleep during DemCon, where Oregon was colored red. (Okay, it was blue, but only because Atlas used reversed colors.) I smiled, but only for a second, before I realized how much has changed since that night.

I thought about DemCon. The canvassing. The parties. The joy. The happiness and the hope. All of that was gone tonight. Nothing is gay, and everything hurts.

I looked at Amber, but she wasn’t there anymore. All of her stuff was gone. She must’ve left for home.

I looked at the television again, and my heart sank at what I saw. Trump was leading in Florida, North Carolina, Michigan, and Wisconsin. He was barreling down in Iowa and Ohio. Only the barest of Clinton leads still existed in Pennsylvania and Minnesota.

What is happening?

I grabbed my purse.

What country am I living in?

I stood up and zipped up my coat.

Trump will win.

No, these three words, they were in my head again. But now, these three words were true.

Trump will win. You cannot escape this fact.

Hopefully Clinton will pull through in Pennsylvania and Minnesota, but without Florida, North Carolina, and Wisconsin, she is done for. I looked up again. She now led in Virginia, and she still led in Nevada and Colorado, but they would be Pyrrhic victories without any of those other states. Now, it was Clinton who had to do an inside straight.

“I’m leaving!” I said to nobody. I looked down the aisle. It was now largely deserted, with only a few holdouts remaining. None of responded to my words. It was disappointed that my club’s members would not respond to their Dear Leader, but I understood, for the situation was grave.

With no additional commentary, I headed out. The November chill tried to break my face, which had acclimated to the sweaty inside of Maxie’s, but I went out. I was going back home, back to my 5th-floor apartment in Nine East 33rd.

But an instant after I stepped out, I heard noises. Words and curses said in a female voice. It was Amber again, standing outside, almost invisible against the night.

“You think I’m happy Elliot?” Amber said. Aimlessly, she walked under a streetlamp and I could see the redness of her face.

“Okay, yeah, she won New Mexico,” Amber said after a pause, presumably to listen what this Elliot guy had to say. “But she was always going to win New Mexico. She’s losing in Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania, for crying out loud!”

Another pause as Elliot made his case. Curious, I stood there, holding my arms close in order to make myself small. Remarkably, it worked, as Amber paid no attention to me.

“They call the rural areas in Pennsylvania later,” Amber explained. “Philly’s mostly been counted, Pittsburg’s mostly been counted. All that’s left are these working class counties that seem to be breaking for Trump!”

I resumed walking when Elliot seemed to have dropped a bombshell.

“What...the...pineapple?” Amber said. Her eyes darted before they landed on me. “You mean...you’re not serious right?” Quickly, I pulled up my phone, went back on the Internet, and saw what Elliot had seen. Trump has caught up to Clinton in Minnesota and was now leading there.

I’m sorry it has come to this, I imagined Elliot saying.

“Okay,” Amber whispered.

“That’s really happening?” I asked quietly as I put my phone back into my purse. My stress had overcome my usual manners for dealing with people on the phone.

Amber gave me her full attention now. Without a word, she did a slow nod. I nodded back. Seeing that Amber was visibly embarrassed, and scared, and angry, I left without saying a word.

I too was angry. Angry that the American people were determined to put a demented, diabolical, wanna-be dictator into the Oval Office. Anger that apparently me and my fellow women and people of color would not be accepted in this America. And most of all, anger that this was happening in all, that a Trump victory was poised to transform from ludicrous hypothetical to physical reality.

I kept walking down Charles Street with alacrity. Away from Maxie’s, the night was cool and peaceful, just like any other clear November night. There was no indication of tonight’s significance, just cars driving up and down the street as usual and leaves drifting down from tree branches onto the sidewalk. I could see the night sky. No stars, as usual, but no clouds either.

I looked at the cars as I walked. Which drivers voted for Clinton? Probably most; this was Baltimore, after all. But some of them might have voted for Trump.

I turned right on East 33rd Street, kept walking down the hill, and made another right into the apartment building. In the lobby, there was another man sitting there. He wore a pair of blue jeans and an orange Polo shirt. He held a bucket hat in his right hand while drumming his seat with his left.

I presumed he was waiting for someone to let him into the building. For a moment, I set aside my election night tension and offered help. “Do you want to get in?” I asked, even though that was technically against building policy.

“Nah,” he said. “I’m waiting for a friend.”

“Okay.” Now that I knew he needed no help, I turned to my needs and proceeded to grab my apartment keycard from my purse. But I was interrupted by the sound of clothes ruffling. The guy was taking off his Polo shirt. “Sorry,” he muttered, “but it’s hot in here.”

He revealed a yellow and white Gary Johnson T-shirt. I chuckled, as Gary Johnson was such a ridiculous candidate during this election, but at the same time, I was mad at him for not voting Clinton. At least he didn’t support Trump. Good, good, he had a basic level of human decency.

He noticed me looking at his shirt and smiled, unashamed of revealing his political preferences. “I actually just got this shirt today,” he said. I produced a fake grin in return; it was the best I could do tonight.

I entered the second set of doors, went in the elevators, and selected the fifth floor. The hallway I stepped into was delightfully minimalistic. It had blue carpeting and plain white walls free of decoration. It was lit by a line of white pothole lights inset in the ceiling. My apartment was at the very end of the hallway, and it felt like I walked a mile when I got there.

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

Inside my apartment was a small party, not unlike the one that went on at Maxie’s. In the center was a large round table, around which everyone huddled. There was Lisa Montalbo, my roommate. Next to her was Jennie Dominguez, her third girlfriend in three months. Then there were three guys who I didn’t know; one of them wore a blue and white “GW University Dems” shirt. Completing the circle were two more guys: Drake Turnbull, a Chemical Bioengineering major who worked out every day and looked like this Jewish TA from South Africa I once had, and Victor Pan, a fellow Computer Science major who did not work out every day and looked like he never saw the sun in his life.

The table itself was crowded with laptops, books, and papers. Yep, even on Election Night Hopkins students had to study until the crack of dawn. Various equations, chemical formulae, and snippets of pseudocode were scattered among the papers. On the computer screens, though, politics dominated. Everybody was poring over the maps and graphs that were displayed when I came in.

“Glad you’re here,” Lisa said. Like me, she was a small Asian woman with a penchant for STEM - she was a Biomedical Engineering major - but unlike me, she had no interest in politics, except for days like these.

“What did I miss?” I asked.

“A bunch of stuff actually,” Lisa said. “New Mexico got called for Clinton and Ohio got called for Trump.”

“Any other states?”

“Nah, just those two so far.”

“Can I see the map?”

Without a word, Lisa turned her computer screen and thrusted it across the table towards my face.

Donald Trump (R-NY)/Gov. Mike Pence (R-IN) - 169 EVs
Sec. Hillary Clinton (D-NY)/Sen. Tim Kaine (D-VA) - 109 EVs

“Wait, what time is it?”

“10:10,” Lisa said.

“Geez, Ohio got called for Trump that early? There’s only 30 percent of the vote in right now.”

“Yeah,” Drake said while adjusting his laptop. “Trump is simply going ham tonight. He’s gonna win.”

“No he…” I paused in resignation. “He is.” What has this world come to?

“Yeah, I know, it sucks,” he said, with a bored look on his face.

Sucks, I thought, sucks! What an understatement. Of course a white male like you would say that. Trump won’t hurt you, he’ll hurt me and Lisa and Amber and anyone who’s not a cis white male.

I wanted to punch Drake into the sky but I held my anger in. After all, he couldn't help being a cis white male, and he was a Clinton supporter, so there were better punching bags anyways. I headed for the fridge. There wasn’t much in it: two-day old ravioli, a container of milk that had long gone sour, and a bunch of potatoes. The freezer wasn’t much better. There was only a half-eaten box of mochi ice cream and a filled ice tray.

I took the ice tray out, got a couple of cubes, and put them into a glass of water. “Could I get a seat?” I asked.

“Sure,” said the guy who wore the GW shirt. “By the way, I’m Ricky,” he said as he got up. “I’m friends with Lisa.”

“Hi,” I said, looking at my ice water instead of his face. “I’m Crystal. I live with Lisa.”

“Oh cool,” he said as he grabbed the last folding chair that laid in the corner next to the door. With his shoulder, he gestured at the two other George Washington strangers. “These are my friends, Levi and Patrick. We’re all part of GW Dems.”

He paused for a second as soon as he got a good look at my face. “Say, I think we might have met at DemCon. I remembered your face from one of the Bring-Your-Owns,” he said, referencing the UPenn tradition of bringing your own alcohol to their various outings.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, trying to keep an eye on him, “but I don’t remember you. I was at DemCon though.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “Were you also at the Clinton rally there too?”

“Yea,” I said. I squeezed my glass of ice water between Lisa and Ricky, where he put the chair. I sat in that chair and felt it bend and bow under my body weight. I kept a close and watchful eye on Lisa’s screen, even though Lisa was studying for an exam on Thursday. Next to me, Ricky alternated between looking at his own screen and looking at me, as if he knew me from somewhere other than DemCon but couldn’t put his finger on it.

I took the last sip from my ice water when my phone buzzed. “10:21 PM,” it said. I unlocked it and saw a new Facebook message. It was from Amber.

“Did they call Georgia?” I asked myself.

Then Lisa answered my question for me. “Yes, they called Georgia for Trump.”

Without opening Amber’s message, I got up and walked to my room without picking up my cup. I needed to go to bed. Tonight was too much.

Donald Trump (R-NY)/Gov. Mike Pence (R-IN) - 185 EVs
Sec. Hillary Clinton (D-NY)/Sen. Tim Kaine (D-VA) - 109 EVs

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

11:00 PM

To her credit, Clinton did win some more tonight. She narrowly won Virginia and won Colorado around twenty minutes ago, and now they called the West Coast, which Clinton swept as expected. So much for that map showing Trump winning Oregon from two weeks ago. And because of that, Clinton was now leading in the EV count again.

But so much for the Clinton campaign as a whole too. She’s basically lost Florida, which for some damned reason was not being called by half the networks. Trump had Ohio obviously, he had Georgia as expected, and he was leading in North Carolina and Iowa. And now, not only was he leading in Wisconsin and Michigan, but he was also leading in Minnesota, New Hampshire, and Pennsylvania. I knew that the last was a long time coming; his lead becoming real instead of hypothetical was just a formality.

Sec. Hillary Clinton (D-NY)/Sen. Tim Kaine (D-VA) - 209 EVs
Donald Trump (R-NY)/Gov. Mike Pence (R-IN) - 173 EVs

I didn’t want to deal with it anymore. I closed my laptop, I closed my phone, and promptly declared to myself the intent to take a nap.

But I couldn’t sleep a wink! I stared at my surroundings, its colors drained by the darkness of the night, my eyes alternating between the ceiling and my posters stuck to the four walls of my dorm. Three were posters of BTS, the boys posing happily and contently on a night that was anything but. But I focused my attention on the fourth, a “Asian Americans and Pacific Islands for Hillary” poster. The text was white on blue; Hillary’s name was not spelled out, but represented by her campaign logo, the red, white, and blue H. That stupid H.

The minutes melted into one big mush as I was preoccupied staring at the danged thing, only punctuated with brief checks of my phone. It reached a boiling point. I got up from out of my bed. In no light but that of the fleeting cars and the ghostly streetlights of East 33rd Street, I walked up to the Hillary poster, grabbed the top with my right hand, and gave a swift flick of the wrist. Within seconds the right half fell to the floor and I held the left half, which was still stubbornly attached to the wall. Another flick, and it too fell to the floor.

“You failed us,” I whispered at the poster, half delirious, half deranged. Then I heard a buzz. It stopped, then there was another buzz. It was my phone. I picked up and checked who texted me. Melissa. I read her text, and my heart sank.

Beyond disbelief, I threw my phone at the wall, and it ricocheted before landing on a beanbag chair I had in the corner. Coincidentally, it had been hit on its “on” button, and in such a way that its screen faced me with its eerie blue glow. “12:02 AM,” it said. It was a new day, and with what I knew, a new era.

I swung two doors open, the door to my own room and the door to my apartment. Lisa and Ricky were still there, but everybody else seemed to have left, though their stuff was still there. So was my empty cup of ice water.

“Are you okay?” Lisa said. “You’re crying.”

“I...I am?” I wiped my cheek and there was indeed wetness.

“Your mascara is running,” Lisa said. I checked my hand and yes, there was ink on it. “I’ll go get some paper towels.”

“No,” I said, “I don’t want paper towels. I want to see the map!”

“Okay,” Lisa said, moving to allow me to sit in front of her Macbook. With my clean hand, I navigated to one of the news tabs she had in her browser. And there it was, the electoral map.

Donald Trump (R-NY)/Gov. Mike Pence (R-IN) - 259 EVs
Sec. Hillary Clinton (D-NY)/Sen. Tim Kaine (D-VA) - 209 EVs

He won Florida. He won North Carolina. He won Iowa. That wasn’t news; I learned about these calls on my phone when I was in my hidey-hole, and I tried my best to eject them out of my mind. But at this moment, Trump won the one state I have thought he could never win: Pennsylvania.

I slumped against the wall, crying. The voices of my friends blurred into one big wet mush, and in its place those three words rattled around in my head as if it were an empty gourd.

Trump will win.

If Trump wins Michigan, he will be at 275 and he will win. If Trump wins Arizona, he will be at 270 exactly and he will win. If Trump wins either Wisconsin and Minnesota, he will be at 269, and he would need only one more state to make it to 270 and win. In other words, it’s over.

Trump has won.

“It’s okay,” Lisa said as she walked out of the bathroom with a roll of paper towels. “It’s going to be okay.”

“No it’s not okay,” I said, sobbing. I could not bear to look up. “It’s happened! Trump’s...Trump’s won! This can’t be!”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Lisa repeated. “We still have each other.”

“I hope you’re okay,” someone said. I mustered enough energy to look up and see who said that. It was Ricky. He wasn’t crying, but he was obviously just as distressed as I was. In the past half hour he had aged decades. We all did, but you could see on Ricky new wrinkles that had formed from the stress of the night.

“Can I have a hug?” I said. I didn’t know exactly what I meant with that question, and I didn’t care.

Ricky hesitated, but relented. “Sure,” he said. I opened my arms and in turn Ricky gave me his full embrace. I felt his the warmth of his gentle body embrace my dying soul. My breasts squeezed against his chest, which gently moved up and down with each breath. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my tears making stains on the blue of his GW Dems shirt. Our hands were on each others’ backs, which was the least we could to do to shield ourselves from a world that had betrayed us.

He hugged me for a good minute or two before letting go. When he did, I saw a glow in his eyes. He too was crying now. “I’m sorry that this happened,” he said as he walked to the couch we had in our living room and sat down on it.

“Today’s a tragedy,” he said, his back slumped against the couch. “This was never supposed to happen. I’m sorry.”

“Why do you have to apologize?” I said. “None of this was your fault. If anything, this was partly my fault.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I was canvassing with some freshmen during DemCon,” I said, sitting in a chair by the table, “I told them to skip some houses so we could eat lunch at Popeye’s.”

“What do you mean?” Lisa said as she walked into the living room.

I tried my best to explain between sobs. “You know Amber Moon? I was with her and...and a friend and we were in Philly and we had those five houses and…” That was all I could say before I started bawling. In this cruel moment, I was no longer a strong, nasty woman ready to shatter glass ceilings. I was a baby again, helpless and alone in this evil world.

“You know Crystal, maybe it won’t be bad as we expect,” Lisa said. “We’ll make sure of that. We’ll be the rebels against the Trump Administration. We’ll be the Resistance.”

“We will?”

Then there was another news announcement from her computer. “We project that Republican Pat Toomey will win the Senate race in Pennsylvania, defeating Democrat Katie McGinty, and Republicans will maintain control of the Senate.”

“It’s going to be bad,” I said, trying to wipe off the tears from my face.

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

12:45 AM - Javits Convention Center, New York City

This was never supposed to happen. Hillary Clinton had already told John Podesta not to say anything specific about the state of the race, even though all signs showed anything but hope for her. She won Nevada five minutes ago, but Utah went to Trump and he was ahead in every remaining state. She knew it was only a matter of time before they called another state for Trump and he becomes President-Elect.

In her head, Clinton mulled what sort of concession call she would make. Would she even make one? Donald Trump had already destroyed all semblance of normality as he brute-forced and cussed his way through the campaign. Should she even acknowledge his presumed victory?

In the end, yes. When he went low, she went high, and tonight was no different. She will give him her congratulations and give a concession speech, even if Trump goes completely bonkers while drunk on victory. What will she say?

There was another question on her mind: if she won’t be the first female President of the United States, who will? Maybe Elizabeth Warren? She was a bit too left for her personally, but otherwise she would be a fine President. Maybe one of the new Senators - Tammy Duckworth, Kamala Harris, or Catherine Cortez-Masto? Or maybe someone completely out of left field, who may not even be in politics yet, or even out of high school or college? Would she even be alive to see the actual first female president?

That was her hope, that some other ambitious female would succeed where she had failed. Even though she did not win tonight, at least she inspired a new generation of female politicians who will lead the future. That is, if there was a future; with Donald Trump as president, that was an open question.

John Podesta walked back into the room. “We got a new projection for the state of Maine.”

“Trump won Maine?”

“No, you did,” Podesta said. “Sorta. You won statewide and in the first congressional district, but Trump won in the second.”

Donald Trump (R-NY)/Gov. Mike Pence (R-IN) - 266 EVs
Sec. Hillary Clinton (D-NY)/Sen. Tim Kaine (D-VA) - 218 EVs

“Oh dear,” Clinton mumbled.

“Yeah,” Podesta said. “If he wins Minnesota, Michigan, Wisconsin or Arizona it’s over.”

“He’ll win at least Arizona, I’m sure of that,” Clinton said. “You know what, I’ll prepare a concession speech now.”

“Will you call Trump?”

“Yes,” Clinton said. She gave a brief pause. “But not right now.”

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

1:57 AM - Trump Tower, New York City

This was never supposed to happen. All he wanted was to become even more famous than he was already and have some sort of Trump TV at the end of it. But soon he, Donald John Trump, would be elected as the 45th President of the United States.

On the one hand, this was awesome! In a few months, he will become the most powerful person on Planet Earth! His haters and the fake news media thought he couldn’t do it because he was too racist or sexist or whatever dumb politically correct insult they could lob at him, and they were proven wrong, and now they were stupid. Now, millions of people will love him! And millions of people will fear him! Someone told him that it was better to be feared than to be loved, and that saying was from a book, not that he cared. He never read books. But he liked the saying. President Donald Trump, how cool was that?

But on the other hand, he had nagging doubts. Being President seemed hard, and he had no political experience. But he had business experience and that will probably work. He’d be in charge of America Inc. and put everybody back to work!

“Mr. Trump,” someone said to the 70-year-old New Yorker. It was Reince Priebus, the RNC chairman. Reince, a superstar! He never would have done this without him.

“Yeah?” Trump said.

“It’s Hillary Clinton.”

“Clinton, you say?” He smirked and wondered what Secretary Clinton would call him for. Would she turn herself in to be locked up? Nah, nobody does that. It would be nice if she would; it would make his job of locking her up a whole lot easier. It wasn’t something that was at the top of his priority list; he had better things to do.

Priebus gave Trump the phone and Trump listened. “Mr. Donald Trump,” Clinton said, sobbing at the other end, “I just want to give you my congratulations…”

Congratulations, you won the election, yadda yadda yadda. Clinton’s words became a big blur as Trump thought of more important things to do. Like his victory speech. It had to be the biggest, most tremendous victory speech ever, and listening to this old loser hag was the last thing he needed to do. At the same time, he eyed the electoral map that he had on TV. Alaska got called a few minutes ago, and in the rest of the states it was clear why Clinton conceded.

Donald Trump (R-NY)/Gov. Mike Pence (R-IN) - 269 EVs
Sec. Hillary Clinton (D-NY)/Sen. Tim Kaine (D-VA) - 218 EVs

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

Four walls surrounded me when I opened my eyes. They towered over me and converged to a degenerate one-dimensional vertex way above my head. I was alone, with only the blue floor and these blue and turquoise walls for company.

I knew I had to get out. But I didn’t know how; the walls were not like walls you would find in real life. They were idealized walls that had an idealized and mathematical smooth surface. I could not see any obvious gripping point, but slowly, I placed my fingers on it and slid it down, enough for me to discover that despite their impossible smoothness the walls had a strange stickiness to them.

I planted my right palm firmly on the wall, then my left, and I lifted myself out. With a heave, I placed both of my feet on it too. Remarkably, they sticked to the wall too. Right palm up, then left palm up. I never took a rock climbing course in my life, but I was doing it.

The walls were tall, but I was fast, and I knew I was making progress. Not once did I fear falling, even though I was sure I was climbing hundreds upon thousands of feet into the great nothingness above. From the bottom, I started hearing a sound. At first an indistinct blur of various audio frequencies, it congealed into a cyclic sequence of two booms, followed by a clap. The booms were synchronized; the claps were in unison. As I went up and up the walls, the sound got louder and stronger, until it became all that I was able to process.

Soon enough, I made it to the top. Around me was the corporeal representation of infinity, a vast blue sea that had no horizon and no end. Above, there was just blue, a deep blue that blurred the line between indigo and purple. And embedded in the three-dimensional infinity was a two-dimensional plane spanned by an infinite and invisible grid; itself spanned by the standard bases of x, y, and z; that stretched all the way to what would have been the horizon. No longer was the cycle of boom boom clap the dominant figure for my senses, for now they had to compete with the very essence of mathematical nothingness.

At each intersection of the grid was a person. Each person was a Trump supporter, their skin lilly pink, their veins bulging and visible through the wrinkles of their epidermis, the redness of their “Make America Great Again” hats blurring with the blueness of the infinity, and their souless eyes peering in the same direction. Furthermore, each person was not an organism unto themselves; they were more akin to cells in a multicellular organism, or the polyps that formed a Portuguese man-o’-war. Like the singular organism they formed, they operated in perfect harmony.

I knew that their numbers were infinite, but I could only see and sense the first trillion trillion that surrounded the four-walled tower that I was perched on top of. At the start of each cycle, the trillion trillion redhatters lifted their right feet and stomped before stomping again and clapping again. Boom boom clap. Boom boom clap. It went on like this for a good minute or two.

Then they stopped. All was quiet. It was not the normal quiet that you had on a peaceful night in your room. It went beyond the quiet you could find in an acoustic isolation chamber, the ones where the walls were covered with square folds designed to absorb any rogue sound waves. This was advanced silence; I could hear nothing, not even my own heartbeat, as I anticipated what the trillion trillion components of the organism I was witnessing were about to do next.

In front of me, there was now a stage. It was far, but I could see exactly what was going on on top of it. It was your standard concert stage, with curtains and spotlights and a wooden floor. The Trump supporters took no notice of the stage’s inexplicable appearance. While those directly in front were able to see it, those to the side or behind it kept looking in the same forward direction, forever unable to see the stage.

To stage left walked a giant, imposing figure, both in literal statue and in fame. Candidate Donald Trump. No, President-Elect Donald Trump. Unbelievable. I went to bed before I was able to face the inevitable reality of his victory speech, or his victory in Wisconsin or Michigan or Minnesota or Arizona. And yet here he is, ready to do something.

I’m sure this was an amazing, almost orgasmic moment for him, being surrounded by more than a trillion trillion of his supporters. Yet he took no notice of them, or of me, or of the amazing blue infinity that surrounds us all. He had a plain look on his face, as if he was ready to retire and be done with the twists and turns and kneads of life.

Trump raised his arms, poised and perfect, and with the flick of a wrist the Trumpists started to sing again. And I never expected thta they would sing this.

“Nae pi ttam nunmul.” My blood, sweat, and tears.

That was the start of BTS’s latest release, “Blood Sweat and Tears.” It was one of my favorite songs, so of course I memorized both the original Korean lyrics and the English translation, because that’s what normal people do.

“Nae majimak chumeul.” My last dance.

And dance they did. The infinity of white Trump supporters, many who were probably huge racists, singing this song by a Korean boy band in perfect unison.

“Da gajyeoga ga...” Take it away...

I guess you could compare this to something like the Arirang Games they hold in North Korea. But this went beyond any earthly phenomena such as the Arirang Games, for the Trumpists have become one. They didn’t sound like a group of people like a choir singing; they sounded like one figure, one whole. It was nearly indistinguishable whether these were the voices of trillions upon trillions of Trump supporters or if this was the singular voice of Jimin, the band member who usually sang those particular lines. They didn’t just sing his lines, they captured his essence, which reverberated through this mathematical infinity.

“Nae pi ttan numul,” they repeated, only with Jungkook’s voice. “Nae chagaun sumeul. Da gajyeoga ga...”

And there was their Dear Leader and God Emperor, Donald J. Trump, conducting this phenomenon. In contrast to the tension of the lyrics and the vocals that filled the infinity, or the love and anger expressed by the melody itself, Trump himself had no emotion, as if this was a normal occurrence to him.

And they sang.

Even my blood, sweat and tears
Even my body, heart and soul
I know that it’s all yours
This is a spell that’ll punish me

To his side, two more figures appeared on stage. The first was Deneb Luna. Weird; why do I keep thinking of this girl. Anyways, she had a bored look on her face, just like Trump. She didn’t walk so much as shimmy towards center stage next to Trump. She clearly didn’t want to be here, but she didn’t seem to care enough to escape.

Behind her was Michael Pence, the new VP-Elect. Unlike Trump or Deneb, Pence had been animated by emotion. They were different emotions from the ones in “Blood, Sweat, and Tears.” On his face, Pence had an expression of glee, as if he was about to burst out in maniacal laughter at any moment. In his right hand, he carried a sword.

Deneb and Pence positioned themselves so they formed a straight line with Trump. Pence then outstretched his arms such that his right arm and sword formed a crescent, interrupted only by Deneb’s figure. Pence gave out his deepest bellows. “SACRIFICE!” he said, in a futile attempt to overcome the singing of the Trumpists.

Except it wasn’t completely futile. Exactly half of them said “SACRIFICE!” in response, enthused by the possibility of an on-stage sacrifice. The other half kept singing.

Kiss me, I don’t care if it hurts,
Hurry and choke me
So I can’t hurt any more
Baby, I don’t care if I get drunk, I’ll drink you in now
Your whiskey, deep into my throat

Deneb was still unenthused by everything, despite the fact that she was now to be sacrificed and that there is nobody to save her. I was of no help; the stage was too far, being an unknown distance from my perch on the wall. Trump would certainly not block his vice president from doing anything, and ditto for the Trumpists.

The macabre cycle of call and response continued. “SACRIFICE!” said Pence, and he would get a “SACRIFICE!” from the audience. On each iteration, the primal screams get louder, though never enough to overpower the music of BTS.

“SACRIFICE!” said Pence.

“SACRIFICE!” said the audience.

The cycle continued for an unknown number of iterations before Pence decided to end it all. With the grace of a swan, Pence swung his sword cleanly through Deneb’s neck and she flew across the infinity above my own with grace and elegance unmatched, until she finally disappeared into the boundless blueness beyond.

I turned around. Deneb’s body was still there, standing and unmoved as if nothing has happened. Pence’s smile was bigger than ever before, now that his mission had been completed, and his arms were outstretched in triumph. Trump was still bored, fixated on controlling the singular organism that was his audience and orchestra.

My hands must had gotten sweaty, for I found myself falling back into the well below. I fell, fell, fell, listening to the song, which resumed its monopoly on the infinity now that the sacrifice had been complete.

Kill me softly
Close my eyes with your touch
I can’t even reject you anyway
I can’t run away anymore
You’re too sweet, too sweet
Because you’re too sweet

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

I woke up. I felt my dried tears cake the rims of my eyes and my cheeks. The sun had already risen; rays of light were filtering through the blinds that covered my windows. On the walls, my BTS posters were still there. I shuddered slightly, afraid of what they had been used for in the countless minutes that had just passed.

But there was one poster missing. The Hillary poster. It was evidence that today, November 9, 2016 was not a normal day, and neither was yesterday.

As usual, I turned around and turned on my phone. “7:04 AM,” it said. Was last night real? I asked myself. I could not distinguish which parts were real, and which parts were from a dream. Was Deneb’s sacrifice real? Was Trump’s victory fake? I could not tell.

I opened up the Internet app and went to on Facebook. “TRUMP TRIUMPHS,” the first headline read. It was from the New York Times. Dang, that was real. President Trump. I guess I - we - will have to live with that.

With all the energy I had this early in the morning, I scrolled down. Scores of my friends had already posted about the election, how they now feared for themselves and the future of the country. Some of them had written paragraphs on Facebook.

“As a proud bisexual…” Lisa wrote. “Tonight was supposed to be a night of celebration, but instead it was a night of terror.”

It comforted me slightly, that even the girl who tried to comfort me yesterday evening had her own fears and trepidations. I was not alone, and neither was she. I scrolled down some more.

“Today is another black mark on America’s history,” Tanya Winters of Brown University wrote. “Today is yet another example of how our country failed to overcome its original sin of racism…”

I scrolled down some more, past the ominous headlines and my friends’ paragraphs.

“As a Muslim-American immigrant…”

“My parents escaped the dictatorship of the Soviet Union...”

“My sister has fought Stage 3 breast cancer for the past two years…”

And so on. I was tired, both in general and from the election, and I didn’t want to write anything much. So instead, I decided to be simple in my own Facebook post.

“2020.”

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

Election Night 2016: Final Results

Donald Trump (R-NY)/Gov. Mike Pence (R-IN) - 320 EVs, 46.11% PV
Sec. Hillary Clinton (D-NY)/Sen. Tim Kaine (D-VA) - 218 EVs, 48.17% PV
Others - 0 EVs, 5.72% PV

Turnout: 140,206,863 (56.1%)

Margin <1%
Michigan (R+0.33%)
New Hampshire (R+0.54%)
Minnesota (R+0.72%)

Margin <2%
Florida (R+1.50%)
Pennsylvania (R+1.56%)
Wisconsin (R+1.92%)

Margin <7%
Maine (D+2.70%)
Nevada (D+3.16%)
North Carolina (R+3.54%)
Arizona (R+3.71%)
Virginia (D+5.80%)
Georgia (R+6.02%)

Senate and House results are the same as OTL.

[morgankingsley]

So Trump does slightly better than he did in OTL and gets about .2 percent more of the popular vote. I wonder what caused this (albeit very slight) increase

[MAINEiac4434]

You should be getting paid for this.

[TheSaint250]

So it's also alternate history (in a way)? Pretty cool!

[_]

My prediction was (mostly) right.

Amazing.

[Cynthia]

Amazing. I'll be willing to donate if you choose to accept them.

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

So Trump does slightly better than he did in OTL and gets about .2 percent more of the popular vote. I wonder what caused this (albeit very slight) increase

At this level, any .2% increase or decrease can be attributed to random chance, so there really isn't any particular reason. It was kind of lucky for Clinton that she won Minnesota and New Hampshire OTL, so if the wind blew the wrong way she could've quite easily lost those states.

You do see an increase from OTL turnout (which was 54.7% according to Wikipedia), and you see a turnout boost in OTL in all states except for Hawaii (-13k votes) and Wisconsin (-156k votes). This was actually due to an error I made when computing TTL's numbers, but I feel it's realistic enough to keep it canon.

So it's also alternate history (in a way)? Pretty cool!

My original plan was to make this a strictly future-history TL, so I'd keep the 2016 election and other current events the same as OTL, but I realized that I'd hate myself trying to adjust for OTL events, so I decided to do this to make things more flexible from the get-go. Trump winning Minnesota and New Hampshire was close enough to OTL as to not change things dramatically, but was still visible enough to make TTL recognizable as alternate history.

My prediction was (mostly) right.

Amazing.

I wonder what was the "mostly" part.

You should be getting paid for this.

Amazing. I'll be willing to donate if you choose to accept them.

Wow. This has always been a side hobby for me, so I never expected anyone to offer monetary compensation. But I guess I could set up a Patreon account if enough of my readers want to donate. (Would that even be allowed under Atlas' TOS?)

[Cynthia]

So Trump does slightly better than he did in OTL and gets about .2 percent more of the popular vote. I wonder what caused this (albeit very slight) increase

At this level, any .2% increase or decrease can be attributed to random chance, so there really isn't any particular reason. It was kind of lucky for Clinton that she won Minnesota and New Hampshire OTL, so if the wind blew the wrong way she could've quite easily lost those states.

You do see an increase from OTL turnout (which was 54.7% according to Wikipedia), and you see a turnout boost in OTL in all states except for Hawaii (-13k votes) and Wisconsin (-156k votes). This was actually due to an error I made when computing TTL's numbers, but I feel it's realistic enough to keep it canon.

So it's also alternate history (in a way)? Pretty cool!

My original plan was to make this a strictly future-history TL, so I'd keep the 2016 election and other current events the same as OTL, but I realized that I'd hate myself trying to adjust for OTL events, so I decided to do this to make things more flexible from the get-go. Trump winning Minnesota and New Hampshire was close enough to OTL as to not change things dramatically, but was still visible enough to make TTL recognizable as alternate history.

My prediction was (mostly) right.

Amazing.

I wonder what was the "mostly" part.

You should be getting paid for this.

Amazing. I'll be willing to donate if you choose to accept them.

Wow. This has always been a side hobby for me, so I never expected anyone to offer monetary compensation. But I guess I could set up a Patreon account if enough of my readers want to donate. (Would that even be allowed under Atlas' TOS?)

Please do: I’ll love to contribute.

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

November 10, 2016 - Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Maryland

It had been two days since the election of Donald Trump as President of the United States, or in other words, it was Day 3 of the Apocalypse. That was what was written on the blackboard, at least, in Jake’s beautiful cursive handwriting. It wasn’t inaccurate, I had to say.

Tonight’s meeting had more attendees as usual. All of the freshmen babies were there: Jake and Emily and all of their friends were there. (Should I still call them freshman babies? Between Trump winning and them having endured multiple Hell Weeks at this school, it was clear that their innocence had been completely destroyed.) I felt sorry for them, as now Trump will be their president for the rest of college.

Except that he wasn’t going to be their president, at least according to Melissa’s sign, which she showed me earlier today. “#NotMyPresident,” it said in lime Sharpie. Right now she was down at Inner Harbor marching with the other good people of Baltimore against the fact that it happened. I hoped she was safe, and I wished her luck.

Meanwhile, I was here back on campus trying to organize our meeting. It was terrible. Everybody here was angry and dejected after that day. I guess the Democratic Party as a whole must’ve felt that way too. I couldn’t imagine what else they would feel, now that they had no President, were a 48-52 minority in the Senate, had less than 200 seats in the House, only had 15 governorships, had 12 state legislatures…

Dang, these stupid numbers. We get the point - we Democrats have lost bigly.

I looked at my phone and realized it was 8:04 PM. I should’ve gotten this going earlier. “Okay everyone, settle down,” I said. I waited another thirty seconds for everybody to actually settle down. “I know it’s Day Three of the Apocalypse, but I assure you, we’re still going to have meetings-”

“Are we still gonna have elections?” a freshman in the back said.

“Uh, I don’t know,” I said, “but we’re still going to have meetings so I guess that’s something?” The freshman replied back with a skeptical face, one that said Boo, you suck!

“Anyways,” I continued, “so I know we didn’t get what we wanted on Tuesday, but there are some things we can be happy about.”

“Like what?” Jake, who was sitting in the front, said.

“First, in the Senate we now have a record number of women of color who have been elected. We now have Tammy Duckworth of Illinois, Catherine Cortez-Masto of Nevada, and Kamala Harris of California, joining Mazie Hirono of Hawaii as the four women of color in the Senate.”

“Wait,” someone said, “there was only one minority woman in the Senate?”

“I mean,” Brandon Steinberg the vice-president said, “the Senate is like a bastion of old racist white dudes. What do you think?”

“And not only that,” I added, “but 2016 also had the first woman - Kellyanne Conway - to lead a presidential campaign to victory.”

“You’re seriously listing Kellyanne as a feminist icon?” Emily, who was wearing a rainbow bandana, a leather jacket, leather pants, and a shirt that said “PRIDE” over it, said.

“No? I was just saying that even with Trump’s campaign we’re seeing progress.”

“Yeah progress. As if my rights aren’t going to be destroyed in the next four years.”

“Listen, I feel you.”

“This is stupid. I should’ve gone with Melissa to the anti-Trump march in Inner Harbor.”

“Hey hey hey, settle down,” Brandon said. “We all know that we’re all going to get [finked] over the next four years, so-”

“I have an idea,” Jake said. “Let’s list all of the ways this election was rigged.”

“Seriously?” I said.

“If Trump gets to say that the election was rigged, why can’t we? I can name ten reasons why it was rigged against us.”

“Fine,” I said. Jake got up and started listing his ten ways. Some of them we agreed on, like gerrymandering and the Electoral College. Some of them, not so much. Like the meme that the primaries were rigged against Bernie. Mr. Bernie-bro Jake and pixie cut girl can believe that for what they wanted, but it didn’t mean Bernie would automatically win against Trump. Seriously, sometimes I really hated that man.

As Jake wrote “Russian Interference” on the board below “DNC Rigging,” Brandon tried to shift the conversation onto more pressing issues. “So now that we’re completely in the minority, what are we gonna do in Congress for the next four years. Do we obstruct like Republicans did against Republicans, or should Congressional Democrats kinda-sorta work with them?”

“No question,” Emily said. “We obstruct them! I don’t know about you, but I don’t think we should compromise on taking away LGBTQ rights or abortion rights.”

“Obviously we’re not going to let the Republicans take away anybody’s rights,” I said. “But I think there’s a place for bipartisanship, like in infrastructure. If Trump wants the country to invest in infrastructure, I think we should work with him, especially if the rest of the GOP is against him.”

“I don’t think he’ll focus on infrastructure,” Emily said, “unless we count The Wall. But the Republicans had obstructed everything during Obama and they won. So screw bipartisanship. It’s dead already. If we’re the minority party, we obstruct, and if we’re back in the majority we ram everything through!”

“I still think bipartisanship has its place. Remember what Michelle Obama said, when they go low, we go high.”

“That’s it!” someone said. It was Amber, her face almost red as she stood up on her desk with a book in her hand.

“Woah Amber,” I said, “are you okay?”

“I agree with Emily,” she said. “I’m sick as [finks] about this whole idea of ‘bipartisanship’ and ‘moderation.’ You really want to cut deals with Mr. Trump? He’s just gonna rip us off! I got a different idea.”

It was late, and I didn’t want to argue. “Okay, what’s your idea.”

“First, we don’t [fink] with the Republicans. They’re not a normal political party that we can negotiate with anymore. They’re a bunch of racists who want nothing more than to strip away the rights of half the people in this room! Do we really want to show ‘bipartisanship’ by being nice to Nazis?”

“But,” she added, “if the Republicans are so terrible, why do they keep winning? Why do we, the Democrats who are supposed to be the party of the common people, are so hated by everyone? Why do we lose to people like Donald [finking] Trump?

“Because...because we abandoned them! We’re told them everything’s fine when income inequality is at [finking] Gilded Age levels and so many people are in poverty! Like, have you read Two Dollars a Day?” Amber held the book, which the freshmen received last summer as part of their summer reading, above her head and waved it like a crazy person.

“And have you seen how Clinton said we should have more of the same? Geez, I’m so sick at the fakeness of the Dems. Hopkins Dems, Maryland Dems, the national Democrats, they’re all fake!”

“Uh,” Brandon said, “it’s now almost 9 so...uh...I think we should end the meeting right now? I think we already had our weekly dose of f-bombs already.”

“It’s 8:32,” I corrected.

“You know what,” Amber said, getting down from her desk and high horse, “you all like to make a big stink about how having 4 minority women as Senators and how Kellyanne Conway not being a total dumbass is somehow progress but then you [finking] refuse to make any real change! And now you’re running around like chickens when Trump is gonna reverse all of the limited progress we did make!”

“I come back when the Democrats actually become left, but not a second before! And don’t try to drag me back!” And just like that, the rest of us stared at her as she slammed the door behind her.

“Damn,” Emily said.

I stood there, in silence, before delivering my own pithy response. “Meeting adjourned.”

As the rest of the College Democrats shuffled out of the room, I walked to the blackboard when  Brandon leaned over my ear. “Can I just tell you something about Amber?”

“Yeah?”

“Amber didn’t vote for Clinton.”

“She voted for Trump?”

“Oh no. She wrote in Bernie.”

I grabbed two erasers and clasped them together. “Goddammit pixie cut girl.”