Rose is driving in her usual limit-pushing gear. She has spent her entire adulthood fighting for civil rights, opportunities for women, justice for the wrongfully imprisoned, open arms for refugees. But once these humans are behind the wheels of other cars, they become, if not the enemy, at least the competition. They need to be tailgated out of the fast lane, encouraged with a quick, prompting honk just before the light changes, flipped the bird when they try to cut into the front of a line she feels they belong at the back of.

Cate settles into her portion of the back seat, which is to say a burrow she has made in a high drift of lawn signs and door-hanger cards whose usefulness has just expired. On the other side of this (now) litter, Neale is eating half a tuna sandwich she grabbed off the food table at the headquarters. Cate is playing Toon Blast, a game on her phone that has already sucked away months of her life when you add up all the bits of hours she has played, lured in by big rewards like a smashing-hammer icon, or a power-drill icon to destroy color cubes.

But although they are tired, none of them is worried. The outcome is in the bag, isn’t it? Other Democrats in less dispirited places will carry the day. Still, Cate is nagged by the subdued atmosphere in the campaign office.

They go to the apartment of Rose and Arthur’s friend Maury, where there’s to be a gathering of the faithful. Maury orders Thai, opens a bottle of wine. Five of their union-organizing friends arrive. Everyone settles in.

The returns are disturbing from the start.

“Red states,” Rose says, dismissing them.

“I think I’ll head out,” Cate says an hour later, when she has begun to get queasy. “I’m going to the pool. That trick worked for me the night the Cubs won the Series. Things weren’t looking good, but by the time I swam, then got back, they were on their way to the win.”

No one is listening to her. Everyone in the room is magnetized by the bad news flooding out of the TV. It’s as though the television is in meltdown, but of course it is actually the country.

The pool trick doesn’t work this time. She’s the only one in the water, sequestered for an hour, but driving home, the radio is a torrent of gloom. Sailor meets her at the door. Graham is in front of the TV in the living room, which is running but with the sound off. He’s on the floor, rolling and covering his head. He’s not saying anything, just rolling back and forth.