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Immy's ancient car shuddered and clanked into place in the Westvale U anthropology department's parking lot. She would need to be in the office to get ready in about ten minutes, ready for a day of teaching the snot-nosed undergrads about the intricacies of the ethnographic method.

For now, though, she could take a moment to appreciate a rare moment outside in the sun. She pulled back on her sandy hair, releasing the tension that had built up in it over the long drive from the cheap end of town. It fell back down onto the skin of her shoulders, brushing against it with a slight, satisfying tickle. Immy stretched, just taking in the warmth and the fresh taste of the air. She was used to running through the lot, trying to stop her slight frame from being physically moved by the gusts of wind between the tall buildings of the campus, so it made a refreshing change.

Sadly, Immy's eyes were closed, and she was paying far more attention to the feelings of the day than the sounds around her. She had made a horrible mistake, not looking immediately like she had urgent business to attend to.

"Excuse me? Ma'am? Can we count on your vote this November?"

Immy blinked. The disturber of her peace was one of four young adults - probably sophomores from the looks for them - all wearing the same obnoxious blue donkey shirt. There wasn't much foot traffic at this time of day, but the quartet of cheerleaders for the world's youngest declining empire were making sure they harassed every single person who passed by.

"Nope! I'm not voting for the worst part of the last failed government!" The words came out basically as a reflex. It was a provocation to all those who were going to shill for a racist old man to defeat the other racist old man. Blood rushed to her already-hot face when she realised what she had just done.

She locked her clanker's door and started a brisk walk towards the faculty doors. Sadly, no human can outrun the entrenched forces of electoralism (which in this case took the form of one twenty-year old man's voice).

"I'm sure you'll feel real good when Trump gets another term then!"

It was something she'd heard before. Well, to be honest, she normally read it on Twitter. All the same, she was used to the spurious accusations of the people who supported restoring the conditions which made Trump happen in the first place. But maybe hearing it out loud was what made her blood boil again.

"And I'm sure you won't be too upset when voting for the lesser evil just makes something even worse in four years!" She yelled back.

She had taken a step towards them. She knew she didn't have time for this. It wasn't even worth it to try to convince the brainwashed fools. She clenched and unclenched her fists a few times. She even managed to tune out the BidenBro's retort. But someone else had walked into her line of sight. A short girl with dark skin and well-brushed jet black hair, who would have looked a lot better in basically any other outfit than a Democratic logo t-shirt and baggy white trousers.

"It's your right to feel that way, ma'am, but I hope you reconsider in time for polling day." The short woman gave her a wide, undeniably cute, smile, and pressed a little badge into Immy's hand.

Her head tiled even further downwards to take a look at it. At least it was just an "I voted" rather than a "Vote Biden", she supposed.

"Thanks, I guess." Immy mumbled as she turned to leave, finding herself completely unable to get annoyed at the cute, polite, idealist iteration of electoralist moron. Her blood did pump a bit faster, though, when the girl moved in front of her path.

"I'm Sreela , by the way." A set of pearly white teeth showed as Sreela gave an endearing grin. "And I completely understand your frustrations, but I think we all need to remember that in a democracy we all have an obligation to make our voices heard in the ballot box."

"Oh yeah, totally, I'm gonna do a write-in." Immy giggled. "I've not yet decided between 'Yves from Loona' or 'Jacinda Ardern' yet, any thoughts?"

She could think of a few reasons why Sreela carried on unperturbed. Either she was simply not listening to anything her target said and continuing on her pre-planned vote-shaming schtick, she was progressive enough to think Ardern was the no-brainer choice, or she was so terminally online she had already been bored to the point of numbness by the 'Stan Loona' joke. Immy decided to be generous and assume it was option B.

"Haha, sure, my thoughts are that the only way you can realistically have an influence in a democratic system is to vote for a winning candidate." Sreela's voice wasn't the numbness of someone reciting by rote. She was, at least, actually thinking about her arguments. Which was a nice change, Immy supposed.

She didn't know why she was listening. She didn't have time to get bogged down in a political argument (that was what scrolling the news feed while waiting for students to come in for office hours was for!), and she had already heard everything before. But she rose to the bait anyway.

Maybe she just couldn't help herself when it came to this topic.

"Is this the whole 'we can push him left' thing?" She scoffed. "Come on, you don't honestly believe that, do you? Maybe you'll get a few aesthetic concessions as the planet burns."

Sreela's smile didn't falter. In fact, she got a bit further inside Immy's personal space bubble as she spoke. "The 'aesthetic' concessions will still help real people, but I understand the broad point. But what I mean is that I accept that it's unreasonable to expect major movement in the policy platform after the election. But, in a first past the post system like ours, it's also unreasonable to expect to exert any influence unless you engage with the most viable progressive party."

Normally, Immy would interject with a snarky comment about differing definitions of progressive. But this girl was making more sense than... anyone else she'd had this conversation with.

"As you know, our system means that the coalition is the party, rather than being made after the election. Your job... our job, even, is to push to the left before the election. But if the left don't support the final compromise, even if it's not one they like, they. No, we lose our position at that table. So we need to go for this least worst option, which I accept you think is pretty bad, so we can try again next time."

Sreela poked at the button, attached to Immy's tank top just above her chest, for emphasis. Immy couldn't tell how this strangely intelligent woman managed to get the badge onto her. She was holding it, she was sure, and couldn't remember doing anything with it.

As Immy wondered, Sreela continued. "And, look, you know what we're up against. Sure, our candidate has his faults. Big ones even. But there's no risk of him tearing up Roe vs. Wade, he's not going to be as destructive for LGBT freedoms, and he's probably not going to drag our nation into even deeper infamy."

"Yeah, I get that, even if I do think the world could use a bit less respect for us..." Immy sighed. "I just... I just don't see the alternative being much better. We're still going to have to pay for basic healthcare, we're not going to bring any redistributional economic justice... Like, we're not going to solve any of the underlying problems with this sort of gradual leftwards movement. And that's assuming the movement even works. It's not like there's any indication the party would even allow that sort of further shift."

Immy smiled a bit despite her melancholy words. Because she could see Sreela really was listening. Perhaps a mind could actually be changed by this conversation. Yeah, she was really sure that was possible, somehow.

"And... and I just don't wanna support that kind of thing." Immy finished.

"So what?" Sreela's retort wasn't combative. Her voice was quiet, almost like a teacher talking a student through a problem they couldn't get their head around. "You're just going to give up? Maybe I was wrong about you, but you don't strike me as the type to give up."

Maybe she was, though. Immy didn't really have the answers, the more she thought about it. Heck, she'd even given up on working out how Sreela had got the badge on her... Even now it felt cold against her skin, an odd reminder of her insufficiency for the task of setting politics right...

She shook her head, realising she was holding a thin hand against it, as if she had a headache. That was wrong. Immy did know what to do. She knew what the Left should have been doing all along.

"No..." But even when she voiced it, her normal confidence was gone. "I'm not a defeatist. I just think that for real progressive politics, we need to refocus on grassroots movements. If, especially in the short term, electoralism will get us nowhere, we need to embed mutual aid in our communities, and maybe start building a better politics to bring to the electoral system from there."

"I mean, sure, that's nice and all." Sreela mused, and Immy smiled at having maybe gained some approval from the shorter woman. "But, you need to have a democracy to make better once you're done building a better movement with more moral purity, don't you? You still need the Democrats, don't you?"

Immy nodded in agreement. Then she realised she didn't actually know precisely what Sreela meant. Clearly, she had noticed the sudden change from passive acceptance to minor confusion on Immy's face, because Sreela continued to explain with a grim smile.

"The Republican part are actively attempting to suppress democracy. Voter disenfranchisement, packing the court. You know the drill as well as I do, and you know things can only slide further into the bad territory." Immy couldn't argue with that, even if she would have choice words for certain enablers of that. "So, you're left with two choices - accelerationism, or participating in electoralism. Those are the only ways to prevent a slide into the new totalitarianism."

That... did make sense.

"And look, Immy, you don't seem like a violent revolutionary to me. I think you're just a good person who wants to do the right thing."

She nodded in agreement. She was, but there was just no good option. She simply couldn't stomach choosing to vote for the option on offer. But refusal to engage was just as unhelpful, and there was no viable alternative.

Not to mention, she didn't know what to think about this whole situation. How did this badge, which weighed so heavily against her chest, get there? How did Sreela learn her name?

Why could she not remember her reasons for believing what she did?

Sreela had moved in even closer. She had stood on tiptoes, and her black hair was brushing against Immy's bare arms.

Two small lips parted in a beautiful whisper. "Let me make the choice for you."

Immy's thoughts went tight as her face went slack. That sentence had got through to her. It was the culmination of everything she had experienced.

She felt her head nodding slowly. She hadn't willed it to do so, but she did want it to. Something had a stranglehold over her desires. Some other force in her mind she couldn't recognise. She couldn't recognise it because she wasn't strong enough or good enough to make the hard choices.

Not like Sreela, who could make the choices. Who would make the choices for Immy now.

The shorter woman whispered again, as a brown hand made its way up Immy's chest to fidget with her badge.

"Brainwashing you is the lesser evil, too."

Immy just giggled mindlessly. Her decision had been made - even if she hadn't made it herself.

----

Yes, this story has huge potential to age very badly. Nevertheless, I saw the pic and the opportunity and I took it. Yes, this story is a thinly veiled attempt to reconcile my own thoughts on electoralism, and push aside the cognitive disonnance with some good old brainwashing.

I know many of you don't like political stuff, but I hope you can appreciate the slow change of someone's opinion throughout the story as a good expression of mind control. And I know a lot of you do like the political stuff, so I will just assume you are pleased ;D

The model is Anna Lore by the way, someone posted a cute pic of her on Most-Wanted8 's Discord and, enamoured by her cuteness, I went on a source pic hunt. Anyway, I can't remember who posted the original pic, so Most-Wanted gets the credit, mwahahaha.

Edit: it was BaretKlap . He can get half credit. Most-Wanted still gets most of the credit though for facilitating the exchange.

Description

Immy's ancient car shuddered and clanked into place in the Westvale U anthropology department's parking lot. She would need to be in the office to get ready in about ten minutes, ready for a day of teaching the snot-nosed undergrads about the intricacies of the ethnographic method.

For now, though, she could take a moment to appreciate a rare moment outside in the sun. She pulled back on her sandy hair, releasing the tension that had built up in it over the long drive from the cheap end of town. It fell back down onto the skin of her shoulders, brushing against it with a slight, satisfying tickle. Immy stretched, just taking in the warmth and the fresh taste of the air. She was used to running through the lot, trying to stop her slight frame from being physically moved by the gusts of wind between the tall buildings of the campus, so it made a refreshing change.

Sadly, Immy's eyes were closed, and she was paying far more attention to the feelings of the day than the sounds around her. She had made a horrible mistake, not looking immediately like she had urgent business to attend to.

"Excuse me? Ma'am? Can we count on your vote this November?"

Immy blinked. The disturber of her peace was one of four young adults - probably sophomores from the looks for them - all wearing the same obnoxious blue donkey shirt. There wasn't much foot traffic at this time of day, but the quartet of cheerleaders for the world's youngest declining empire were making sure they harassed every single person who passed by.

"Nope! I'm not voting for the worst part of the last failed government!" The words came out basically as a reflex. It was a provocation to all those who were going to shill for a racist old man to defeat the other racist old man. Blood rushed to her already-hot face when she realised what she had just done.

She locked her clanker's door and started a brisk walk towards the faculty doors. Sadly, no human can outrun the entrenched forces of electoralism (which in this case took the form of one twenty-year old man's voice).

"I'm sure you'll feel real good when Trump gets another term then!"

It was something she'd heard before. Well, to be honest, she normally read it on Twitter. All the same, she was used to the spurious accusations of the people who supported restoring the conditions which made Trump happen in the first place. But maybe hearing it out loud was what made her blood boil again.

"And I'm sure you won't be too upset when voting for the lesser evil just makes something even worse in four years!" She yelled back.

She had taken a step towards them. She knew she didn't have time for this. It wasn't even worth it to try to convince the brainwashed fools. She clenched and unclenched her fists a few times. She even managed to tune out the BidenBro's retort. But someone else had walked into her line of sight. A short girl with dark skin and well-brushed jet black hair, who would have looked a lot better in basically any other outfit than a Democratic logo t-shirt and baggy white trousers.

"It's your right to feel that way, ma'am, but I hope you reconsider in time for polling day." The short woman gave her a wide, undeniably cute, smile, and pressed a little badge into Immy's hand.

Her head tiled even further downwards to take a look at it. At least it was just an "I voted" rather than a "Vote Biden", she supposed.

"Thanks, I guess." Immy mumbled as she turned to leave, finding herself completely unable to get annoyed at the cute, polite, idealist iteration of electoralist moron. Her blood did pump a bit faster, though, when the girl moved in front of her path.

"I'm Sreela , by the way." A set of pearly white teeth showed as Sreela gave an endearing grin. "And I completely understand your frustrations, but I think we all need to remember that in a democracy we all have an obligation to make our voices heard in the ballot box."

"Oh yeah, totally, I'm gonna do a write-in." Immy giggled. "I've not yet decided between 'Yves from Loona' or 'Jacinda Ardern' yet, any thoughts?"

She could think of a few reasons why Sreela carried on unperturbed. Either she was simply not listening to anything her target said and continuing on her pre-planned vote-shaming schtick, she was progressive enough to think Ardern was the no-brainer choice, or she was so terminally online she had already been bored to the point of numbness by the 'Stan Loona' joke. Immy decided to be generous and assume it was option B.

"Haha, sure, my thoughts are that the only way you can realistically have an influence in a democratic system is to vote for a winning candidate." Sreela's voice wasn't the numbness of someone reciting by rote. She was, at least, actually thinking about her arguments. Which was a nice change, Immy supposed.

She didn't know why she was listening. She didn't have time to get bogged down in a political argument (that was what scrolling the news feed while waiting for students to come in for office hours was for!), and she had already heard everything before. But she rose to the bait anyway.

Maybe she just couldn't help herself when it came to this topic.

"Is this the whole 'we can push him left' thing?" She scoffed. "Come on, you don't honestly believe that, do you? Maybe you'll get a few aesthetic concessions as the planet burns."

Sreela's smile didn't falter. In fact, she got a bit further inside Immy's personal space bubble as she spoke. "The 'aesthetic' concessions will still help real people, but I understand the broad point. But what I mean is that I accept that it's unreasonable to expect major movement in the policy platform after the election. But, in a first past the post system like ours, it's also unreasonable to expect to exert any influence unless you engage with the most viable progressive party."

Normally, Immy would interject with a snarky comment about differing definitions of progressive. But this girl was making more sense than... anyone else she'd had this conversation with.

"As you know, our system means that the coalition is the party, rather than being made after the election. Your job... our job, even, is to push to the left before the election. But if the left don't support the final compromise, even if it's not one they like, they. No, we lose our position at that table. So we need to go for this least worst option, which I accept you think is pretty bad, so we can try again next time."

Sreela poked at the button, attached to Immy's tank top just above her chest, for emphasis. Immy couldn't tell how this strangely intelligent woman managed to get the badge onto her. She was holding it, she was sure, and couldn't remember doing anything with it.

As Immy wondered, Sreela continued. "And, look, you know what we're up against. Sure, our candidate has his faults. Big ones even. But there's no risk of him tearing up Roe vs. Wade, he's not going to be as destructive for LGBT freedoms, and he's probably not going to drag our nation into even deeper infamy."

"Yeah, I get that, even if I do think the world could use a bit less respect for us..." Immy sighed. "I just... I just don't see the alternative being much better. We're still going to have to pay for basic healthcare, we're not going to bring any redistributional economic justice... Like, we're not going to solve any of the underlying problems with this sort of gradual leftwards movement. And that's assuming the movement even works. It's not like there's any indication the party would even allow that sort of further shift."

Immy smiled a bit despite her melancholy words. Because she could see Sreela really was listening. Perhaps a mind could actually be changed by this conversation. Yeah, she was really sure that was possible, somehow.

"And... and I just don't wanna support that kind of thing." Immy finished.

"So what?" Sreela's retort wasn't combative. Her voice was quiet, almost like a teacher talking a student through a problem they couldn't get their head around. "You're just going to give up? Maybe I was wrong about you, but you don't strike me as the type to give up."

Maybe she was, though. Immy didn't really have the answers, the more she thought about it. Heck, she'd even given up on working out how Sreela had got the badge on her... Even now it felt cold against her skin, an odd reminder of her insufficiency for the task of setting politics right...

She shook her head, realising she was holding a thin hand against it, as if she had a headache. That was wrong. Immy did know what to do. She knew what the Left should have been doing all along.

"No..." But even when she voiced it, her normal confidence was gone. "I'm not a defeatist. I just think that for real progressive politics, we need to refocus on grassroots movements. If, especially in the short term, electoralism will get us nowhere, we need to embed mutual aid in our communities, and maybe start building a better politics to bring to the electoral system from there."

"I mean, sure, that's nice and all." Sreela mused, and Immy smiled at having maybe gained some approval from the shorter woman. "But, you need to have a democracy to make better once you're done building a better movement with more moral purity, don't you? You still need the Democrats, don't you?"

Immy nodded in agreement. Then she realised she didn't actually know precisely what Sreela meant. Clearly, she had noticed the sudden change from passive acceptance to minor confusion on Immy's face, because Sreela continued to explain with a grim smile.

"The Republican part are actively attempting to suppress democracy. Voter disenfranchisement, packing the court. You know the drill as well as I do, and you know things can only slide further into the bad territory." Immy couldn't argue with that, even if she would have choice words for certain enablers of that. "So, you're left with two choices - accelerationism, or participating in electoralism. Those are the only ways to prevent a slide into the new totalitarianism."

That... did make sense.

"And look, Immy, you don't seem like a violent revolutionary to me. I think you're just a good person who wants to do the right thing."

She nodded in agreement. She was, but there was just no good option. She simply couldn't stomach choosing to vote for the option on offer. But refusal to engage was just as unhelpful, and there was no viable alternative.

Not to mention, she didn't know what to think about this whole situation. How did this badge, which weighed so heavily against her chest, get there? How did Sreela learn her name?

Why could she not remember her reasons for believing what she did?

Sreela had moved in even closer. She had stood on tiptoes, and her black hair was brushing against Immy's bare arms.

Two small lips parted in a beautiful whisper. "Let me make the choice for you."

Immy's thoughts went tight as her face went slack. That sentence had got through to her. It was the culmination of everything she had experienced.

She felt her head nodding slowly. She hadn't willed it to do so, but she did want it to. Something had a stranglehold over her desires. Some other force in her mind she couldn't recognise. She couldn't recognise it because she wasn't strong enough or good enough to make the hard choices.

Not like Sreela, who could make the choices. Who would make the choices for Immy now.

The shorter woman whispered again, as a brown hand made its way up Immy's chest to fidget with her badge.

"Brainwashing you is the lesser evil, too."

Immy just giggled mindlessly. Her decision had been made - even if she hadn't made it herself.

----

Yes, this story has huge potential to age very badly. Nevertheless, I saw the pic and the opportunity and I took it. Yes, this story is a thinly veiled attempt to reconcile my own thoughts on electoralism, and push aside the cognitive disonnance with some good old brainwashing.

I know many of you don't like political stuff, but I hope you can appreciate the slow change of someone's opinion throughout the story as a good expression of mind control. And I know a lot of you do like the political stuff, so I will just assume you are pleased ;D

The model is Anna Lore by the way, someone posted a cute pic of her on Most-Wanted8 's Discord and, enamoured by her cuteness, I went on a source pic hunt. Anyway, I can't remember who posted the original pic, so Most-Wanted gets the credit, mwahahaha.

Edit: it was BaretKlap . He can get half credit. Most-Wanted still gets most of the credit though for facilitating the exchange.