Despite all of Frank's private misgivings that the club would crash and burn at other universities without his direct supervision, strong central planning and charismatic leadership—and a little bit of luck—enabled the club to prosper at all the universities it sank its teeth into. Of particular interest was the UCLA office, it being his former second-in-command's first chance to exert her own influence, and its geographical connection to the stronghold at Cal meant many in the club's leadership had high expectations.

Juliet was blissfully unaware of what unusual circumstances and gambits had led to her new position of leadership, and despite her burgeoning understanding that what transpired at Heller would largely remain under lock-and-key for her, she could tell that at least now she was treated as an equal. Out of all the new "campus directors," as they were branded, Juliet enjoyed a special favor because of her connection to Frank; if anyone else believed nepotism was at play, they were too shy to say it. Consequently, when word got around that campus elections were approaching, it was decided that Juliet would be the club's guinea pig and run for president.

For all the soft power many of the club members carried, few could translate this into a sense of charisma that was not reminiscent of Ben Shapiro, and Juliet was one of the few people considered "likable" by the general population. Socioeconomic factors were a boon, too: female, Asian, in that awkward Silicon Valley wealth gap where one wasn't a rich kid but still could hang out with the real rich kids and gain their sponsorship, enough of a minority to mention it during campaigning but not so much people were scared of her. Juliet took these appraisals, made right in front of her, with good grace, and it was thus decided: Juliet Wong for USAC President was a go.

There were two other candidates for the position, which was news for the club, who was used to running unopposed. Charles Martello, or Charlie as he insisted everyone else called him, was as career of a politician as a college junior could be. If there were an extracurricular involving speaking to a crowd or shaking hands and repeating people's names in dulcet tones, he had done it—in this process he had learned to be a political chameleon, suppressing his natural Bronx accent or tactfully avoiding difficult topics like the amount of international students on campus or marijuana legalization unless he thought there would be no consequences. He would never insist that he "deserved" the presidential seat more than anyone else did, instead obliquely referring to his paper qualifications, but he was of the private belief that there was no room for outsiders in politics: at the end, the people would vote for the best candidate, and that was the fraternity co-chair, church youth group leader, and person with a completely wholesome social media history that needed not be investigated by any journalists or political rivals.

Mike Trump (of no relation) was dared into running because his friends thought him sharing a surname with Donald Trump was funny—it wasn't as if Donald Trump or any of his scions could ever actually win political office, as much as they had tried. There was no other motivation: he pooled the required application fees from his D&D group, verified that the strict letter of the election regulations allowed for pretty much any publicity stunt he could think of, and the deed was done. His electoral platform could be succinctly summarized as "I will eliminate all student elected officials' stipends because we all know we're only running to put this on LinkedIn anyway," and his campaign strategy was to rely on Reddit and artfully curated memes.

As noble as these two candidates' pursuits may have been, to Juliet and the club, they were nothing but obstacles. She appraised their virtues as faults, already imagining smear campaigns: Charlie was slimy and clearly desired to be progressive only when it suited him, not to mention that in previous years he had been a supporter of a certain Fireball McGee. Mike did not care, and to a club that valued caring about even the most irrelevant details, this was heresy. Additionally, one time he had slacked off on a group project with Juliet, and this was perhaps the gravest offense possible. In meetings with Frank and other club officials, she spoke fervently about the righteousness of her upcoming campaign—in a way, it wasn't just about her winning, but also that her victory would mean the other candidates would lose.

Day one of the election season, Juliet and her team set out early on BruinWalk to take the best table and to unfurl a giant banner at the top of the walkway. Baskets of sugar-free candy at the ready (Frank had convinced Juliet that their usual offering of Kool-Aid would not be taken well), she and her cronies stood ready to heckle the students walking to their 8 AM classes. Beyond having stacks of pins and flyers bearing tasteful slogans as "It's not wrong to vote Wong!" at the ready, they had written on a whiteboard a bullet-pointed list of her accolades, including "passionate about philosophy," "high school vice president," and "champion of representation and women's equality." It was a bulletproof campaign, and some club members wondered why it was even necessary to campaign if her superiority were self-evident.

"Why should I vote for you instead of Charlie, who has years of experience?" someone asked Juliet after taking her offered single jelly bean.

"Charlie's part of the old boys' club, he doesn't represent the common man—here, take another jelly bean," Juliet said, using her tongs to drop another one in the skeptic's outstretched hand. "Do you see him listening to his constituents' worries out here, in the middle of campus? No, you don't—he's probably still drinking beer with his frat buddies." The skeptic seemed taken aback, but nonetheless ate the jelly bean after delicately prodding it with his pointer finger.

"You make a convincing argument," the skeptic said before walking on at his hurried pace. One future voter secured! This cycle repeated itself for a few hours, Juliet experimenting with different tactics—saying "solidarity" with a conspiratorial smile and a fist-bump to everyone female-presenting and/or Asian seemed to work well, although the football team seemed a tougher puzzle to solve—they stared her down and tossed her offered jelly beans in the bushes. When their supply of candy had been exhausted, they knew their first mission was over, and a successful mission it was.

Trouble struck later that afternoon, when a club member discovered a flier left in a classroom where the "not" had been crossed out of her campaign slogan and a Reddit post credited to an anonymous user:

"USAC candidate Juliet Wong and her club:

I was doing some research on the candidates earlier, and I noticed that Juliet's current club, the How To Be A Good Person Club, is an offshoot of a club she co-founded in high school. I found this video of one of their rallies from last year, and this is a literal clone of 1984: they have slogans, marches, posters, and some sort of caste system where they call misbehavers Epsilons. She's quoted in her school newspaper as saying that drinking boba is punishable by suspension. Is this what she wants for UCLA? This is fucked up.

I'm going to be voting for Trump. He's the only candidate I can trust to not have a political agenda."

While it would be in bad taste for Juliet to personally enter the fray, or even other club members or campaign staff at UCLA, Juliet was blessed among the candidates for having a widespread group of fans. The siren call in the club Discord server went out: military reinforcement was needed on r/UCLA. Immediately the post was downvoted, the negative comments being drowned out by positive ones like "even if it is inspired by 1984, not that I would know, is that a bad thing?" and "you don't respect Juliet's innovative leadership because she's a woman." The club staff thought their job was done until a follow-up post was made an hour later by a different user:

"Unusual activity in 'USAC candidate Juliet Wong and her club':

Has anyone else noticed the barrage of comments on the previous post about Juliet that all seem to be deflecting from the accusations made? Some of these people go to different schools judging by their Reddit history—what are they doing here? I think Juliet's club is trying to censor us, but it's not going to work. Big Sister will not be watching us here.

It's clear that Trump is the most reasonable candidate. I can confidently say I'm a proud Trump supporter."

Juliet was furious, and so were the other club members. She, Frank, and Pranav joined a voice call to talk strategy, with other interested club members lurking muted in the background:

"These posts are fake news! Well, they're telling the truth, but not in a way I like. We have to do something about these posts," Juliet began.

"I bet they're all of Mike's friends trying to back him up. Look at how all the posts follow the same format so artificially, and then end with empty promises to back him up. What does it even mean to be a 'proud Trump supporter?' The guy has no policy platform besides weekly Reddit AMAs," Pranav said. "Say, what is our policy platform?"

"We haven't written it yet, but we can save that for after we win," Frank said. "If it really is him trying to play something underhanded, he has nothing concrete on us. It's all rumor, and we can counter those with our alternative facts. Our marching drills in the central courtyard were merely to build school spirit. In the worst case, just say what all politicians say: you're sorry and have grown through your mistakes."

"The worst thing you can do, Juliet, is let your critics get the best of you," Pranav added. "We can fire back with our own missiles later, but for now, let's just keep going. We have the first debate next week to prep for."

The club was no stranger to giving speeches—highly metaphorical constructions that could be tailored for all occasions—but the idea of interplay scared them. It wouldn't be the first time they had faced critique, but it was rare that opponents had to be treated seriously, or were not thought exercises conjured by Frank in meetings to prove his own points. Fortune had dealt Juliet and Mike a favor: someone on Reddit had written a long post implicating Charlie's fraternity as the cause of rising sexual assault cases and the inventor of barbaric hazing rituals that had led to three pledges being sent to the hospital. The severity of this had been compounded by a faux pas on Charlie's end: while addressing these allegations in front of a crowd on campus, he had said in his usual charming Bronx accent "boys will be boys," and had responded to the ensuing outburst in the crowd by bursting out in affected laughter and walking off with his entourage. Clearly he had misjudged his audience, and it was believed the burden would fall on him the night of the debate to redirect the narrative.

With this in mind, the direction for Juliet's story that night of the first debate was clear: censure Charlie for his irresponsibility, systematically disavow herself of the persistent rumors that kept appearing online, establish herself as the least of all the evils present. She repeated those talking points to herself as she walked to the auditorium, flanked by some of her senior club members, and took her spot at the front of the room alongside the other presidential candidates. Some staffer tried to brief them all on the rules of decorum, but it didn't seem like anyone was paying attention—she certainly wasn't. Charlie was the only other candidate who had dressed up for the debate, and his head bobbed like a pigeon as the staffer talked; Mike wore a "Vote for Pedro" shirt and chewed gum, which he only spat out after the staffer told him it was disrespectful. It was disrespectful! A mockery of the electoral process. What a simpleton.

Charlie was to deliver his introductory remarks first, being the first alphabetically, and when directed he addressed the largely empty auditorium from index cards, stopping first to adjust his Italian flag pin:

"Tonight, you and I have a rendezvous with destiny. Each and every one of you in the audience—why don't you all come down here so you can hear us better? The destiny of UCLA, and who knows, perhaps the destiny of our nation, too. The outcome of this election is symbolic of the fate of our nation: will it be a nation of people who do not care enough to dress up for debates—and certainly not enough to act with the responsibility and maturity needed to lead our undergraduate population of 31636? Or perhaps a nation of communists who seek to bring Stalinist repression to every household, blind obedience to a dear leader instead of relying on the thinking man's—or woman's—ability to choose freedom? These are two dire alternatives we have in front of you, and tonight you are going to see why I present the most stable path for UCLA's future."

This speech commanded scattered applause from the audience, and Charlie turned to the other two candidates with a smirk. Mike was next:

"Yeah, I have a full 60 seconds here, but I don't need them. Please don't vote for the cult leader or the sexual assault supporter. I can't say I know what I'm doing. But they certainly don't either. Um... that's it?"

"Thank you, thank you," the staffer said officiously, and the audience responded with meek applause. Juliet took her turn:

"Wow, looks like they saved the best for last," she began with a smile. Nobody laughed. Undeterred, she continued: "I know what it feels like to be an outsider. On this stage, in politics, in the nation as a whole. It pains me to see that the diversity of UCLA's student body is not represented when it comes to student government—how can that be when we're supposed to have government by the people, for the people? I have faith that together, we can work toward a brighter future for UCLA, a future that we can all share in. Each and every one of us. Just remember," Juliet concluded with extra pep, "it's not wrong to vote Wong!"

"Could we all give the candidates another round of applause?" the staffer said, addressing the audience, to mild applause and a few shouts of "Let's go Charlie!". "Anyway, we will now move into the debate section of tonight's event. We have asked all the candidates to prepare questions to address the others, which they will then be able to discuss. Charlie, as you're first alphabetically, you may go first."

"Thank you, miss," Charlie said with a smile looking down at the staffer. "My first question is for Juliet Wong, whom we just had the pleasure of listening to—could we give her another round of applause?" This prompted the same few people, presumably frat boys, who had shouted "Let's go Charlie!" to shout "Let's go Juliet!" with untempered enthusiasm. "When we talk about values key to our identity, we often talk about heritage. I'm from the Bronx, and my grandparents were Italian immigrants, who instilled in me the virtues of hard work and loving family. You say your heritage is important to you—but how come I secured the endorsement from the Association of Chinese Americans and not you? How come you are not wearing a, let's see what I wrote down here, a 'chee pow'?"

"You see," he said turning from Juliet to the audience, "faith is the bedrock of our lives. Not just religious faith like what I have—but the faith others have in you. If we do not have faith a candidate will uphold democratic values, if we do not have faith that a candidate won't be a Benedict Arnold to her people, if we do not have faith that what trust we put in a candidate will be returned to us tenfold, why should we vote for them? I pray every night before I go to bed. I pray for our souls, that false prophets will not lead us astray with stolen words like 'by the people, for the people' to make us think they bleed red, white, and blue. I pray that UCLA will not be taken over by godless Communists who dream every night of Chairman Mao. Faith: we all could use a bit more of it."

"Sorry, what was your question?" Juliet asked, to laughter in the audience. "Because all I heard was white male fragility." Charlie turned to Juliet's podium, still maintaining the smirk he had before.

"Let me rephrase this line of questioning more simply," Charlie said, somehow with an even thicker accent. "Were you born here?"

"Here? No, in San Francisco. I spent the first years of my life in Chinatown, where I learned the value of community, before—"

"Ah, Chinatown. That explains a lot, thank you. Was it there you first learned communist values, or are those something everyone in the Bay Area learns?"

"I'm not a communist, Charlie. My parents came to Hong Kong from mainland China to flee communism, before they came here. From my parents I learned the value of hard work—"

"And is it true that all members of your club at your former high school carry little red books filled with your founder's teachings?"

"Please don't interrupt the candidates, Charlie. We will have to—" the staffer tried interjecting.

"I'm not finished. Is it true?" Charlie searched Juliet's face for weakness, but only saw the expression of someone who believed completely in what she said, both good and bad.

"It is true. These support our club values, including honesty, integrity, and—"

"Communism?"

"No, not communism."

"Just making sure," Charlie said. "Why red? It's not one of your school colors."

"Our club president liked the color."

"And is he a communist?"

"No, he's not a communist, and I am officially going to request this line of questioning ends. It's distracting from our debate," Juliet said.

"Request granted!" the staffer said. "Given that you two have already had plenty of time to speak, and to prevent the conversation from getting heated—this is meant to be a civil debate—I will give Mike the floor. Any questions, Mike?"

"I'm good," Mike said before popping another piece of gum into his mouth.

"You sure? Otherwise it will be Juliet's turn to speak."

"We all know these debates never change people's minds—as much as I think the Association of Chinese Americans might be reconsidering their endorsement of Charlie. You're doing great though, whoever you are, Ms. Staffer."

"Why thank you! But anyway," the staffer continued, "it's now Juliet's turn to address one of her fellow candidates. Juliet, the floor is yours."

"Thank you, Ms. Staffer. My question is for Mike, and unlike our fellow candidate Mr. Martello, I shall keep this brief: why are you running? Why not drop out if you don't care?"

"An excellent question, Juliet! This may be hard for you to comprehend, as someone who clearly cares too much about this race and politics as a whole, but most UCLA students just don't care. 99% of people out there are just going to vote for the name that sounds most familiar to them. While you two are engaged in petty arguments, I'm here to fight for the rights of the people, like me, who just don't care: who want to go about their lives not worrying about kids who are playing God and increasing their student fees. Charlie may talk about faith, but I prefer to talk about authenticity: what you see is what you get, and the last thing I want to be is one of those candidates who wastes all their time talking about values and turns out to be another corporate drone. Does that answer your question?"

"I think it does, Mike. Thank you."

"It's my pleasure. Can I leave now?"

"If nobody has any other questions, we can conclude the debate after the candidates deliver closing remarks. Charlie, you're first."

"Thank you, miss. We are at a time of choosing..." Charlie began, but the other candidates walked out of the auditorium: Mike first, and a few seconds later, Juliet decided she too had better things to do than listen to Charlie badly plagiarize Reagan.

Mike stopped outside the auditorium when he realized Juliet had also come, and turned to address her, spitting out his gum in a handkerchief first and looking at her with the appearance of understanding:

"I'm sorry for what I said out there. It was mean of me—I shouldn't have called you a cult leader up there, even if it's true and I'm sticking with it. Charlie was a complete asshole to you, and I don't know if it's because he thinks you're communist, if it's because you're a woman, Asian, or whatever else. I don't like you as a candidate, and I only like you as a person slightly more—sorry, but I tell it like it is. I still want to win, but I think we can both agree any other outcome would still be preferable to Charlie winning. If there's anything we can do together to make that happen, let me know."

Juliet nodded sagely, said simply "I'll let you know," and walked away without any other gesture. The club taught her to not entertain weakness, and as far as she was concerned, Mike was conceding the race. When he left the debate early, he was saying he didn't care—when she did it, it was showing solidarity with the weak.

From that point onward, what the pundits on Reddit had predicted to be a thrilling presidential race faded into nothingness, as the sheer attrition of Juliet and the club proved able to stomach all the threats Charlie could muster: Juliet had been called far worse things than communist because of her time at Heller, and it took just a bit of prompting for her team and the Association of Chinese Americans to launch a campaign to expel Charlie (it did not help his case that Juliet was able to provide plenty evidence to support her claim that no matter what she had done in the past, she at least had not supported Fireball McGee). This helped kickstart a populist campaign supported by many of the influential clubs on campus, and Charlie's refusal to back down only emboldened her supporters. A dichotomy was thus created: one was either for social justice or for misogyny. Mike, naturally, dropped out of the campaign to support Juliet when it became clear actually being president was more work than he wanted—he insisted his point had been made, and Juliet agreed to include his remarkably simple campaign platform of not increasing student fees and giving students better food.

So when the results of the election were announced that inevitably declared Juliet victor, there were only a few brave souls who dared comment on her high school past or that the club as it existed at UCLA (and throughout the nation, a fact that escaped nobody) was truly no better. Nobody cared that Charlie had released a short statement saying "he was sorry and has grown through his mistakes." Some claimed Mike had predicted it from the start: the student body, ultimately, did not care, and was willing to vote for the candidate with the least number of obvious flaws regardless of the lack of benefits. The most insightful analysts dug into her political past and noted that her election here was repeating history, and while Juliet was certainly a flawed candidate, just like at Heller, she was the only option. Juliet made no mention of any of this in her victory speech, nothing about her sordid past or the streak of luck that had brought her success; she talked about a little girl growing up in the Bay Area who had a simple dream: to be a good person.

Discussion Questions:

This is the first story we've had that takes place outside Heller and after the events of You Must Remember This. How is Juliet as a main character different from the Juliet we've seen before?

Why are the other political candidates described as being so incompetent? How is this political satire different from the satire we've had before?

Are you happy that Juliet won the election?