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MidReal Story
The Rise of Wes Moore
Scenario:JD Vance loses to Wes Moore in president election in 2028 Democrats keep the house and Senate JD retire from politics
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J.D. Vance
first_person_protagonist, male. He is a former U.S. Senator from Ohio and a bestselling author. He is conservative, introspective, and determined. J.D. Vance ran for president in 2028 but lost to Wes Moore, leading him to retire from politics. He reflects on his journey, from being a Marine to becoming a successful author and politician. Despite his loss, he remains proud of his accomplishments and the impact he made on people's lives.
Amy Chua
side_character, female. She is an American lawyer and academic known for her book "Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother." She is outspoken, confident, and influential. Amy Chua's work gained widespread attention for its unconventional parenting approach and sparked debates about cultural differences in childrearing practices.
Wes Moore
side_character, male. He is the President of the United States after winning the election in 2028. He is charismatic, ambitious, and pragmatic. As a Democrat, he defeated J.D. Vance in the presidential race, marking a significant shift in American politics. His victory signifies hope for change among his supporters and challenges for those who opposed him.
I didn’t win.
Wes Moore did, and he’s the President of the United States.
The Democrats kept the house and the Senate.
I guess it was too much to hope for a split government anyway.
After the election, I decided to retire from politics.
It wasn’t a hard decision, but it was a difficult one.
It meant giving up more than two decades of work I’d dedicated myself to, and it meant, at least for now, that I wouldn’t have a platform to make a difference in people’s lives.
But I knew I couldn’t continue on.
I lost, and more than that, I lost big.
It’s hard to keep going after that.
I remember when I first ran for office—just a few short years ago—and how crazy it all seemed then.
From Marine to bestselling author to politician—I never could have imagined the path my life would take.
And as I sat watching Wes Moore’s inauguration ceremony from my living room, it all felt very final.
I guess I should be grateful; Wes Moore didn’t destroy me like he destroyed the other candidates who ran against him.
I’ve been spending most of my time in my study, surrounded by newspaper clippings from the campaign.
The headlines are a reminder of how much damage was done during those two years.
"Conservative Extremism Reaches Fever Pitch," "Democracy Teeters on Brink of Collapse," and "MAGA Movement Continues to Grow: Experts Warn of Violence."
My phone buzzes.
It’s Amy Chua, my friend and mentor.
She’s the reason I got into politics in the first place.
We’ve been friends since my time at Yale, when she was a professor and I was her student.
"JD," she says, "I heard the news. I’m so sorry."
"It’s fine," I tell her.
"I knew it was a long shot."
"You’ll be back," she tells me.
"I don’t know about that," I say.
"I think this might be it for me."
"Nonsense," she says.
"You’re an American hero. You’ve written bestselling books, served in the Marines, and you were a Senator. You have a voice and people listen to you."
"What do you suggest?"
I ask her.
She thinks for a moment.
"You should write another book."
"About what?"
I ask her.
"About saving democracy from radical populism. About reclaiming conservatism from the fringe element that has taken it over." "That sounds like a big project."
"It is," she tells me.
"But someone has to do it, JD. And you’re one of the few people who can. You have a platform, and you have credibility with both sides."
I look around my office at all the photos on the wall—photos of me with other Senators and members of Congress, photos of me speaking at events and rallies, photos from my time in the Marines.
I see photos from my Senate days, and I remember conversations I had with reasonable conservatives who were swept up in this movement before they knew what hit them.
They didn’t mean to be part of something dangerous; they thought they were fighting for America.
But slowly, incrementally, they found themselves caught up in something that was much bigger than any one person could control.
"Are you suggesting I write about the dangers of extremism from the inside?" I ask, feeling a spark of curiosity ignite.
"Exactly," Amy replies, her voice steady and encouraging. "You can expose how good intentions can lead to unintended chaos, and maybe, just maybe, help steer the conversation back to sanity."
I sit back in my chair, looking at the notes I’ve been making from conversations with former colleagues who have shared their experiences with extremism.
I nod to myself.
"I think you might be right, Amy."
Just then, my phone buzzes again.
It’s a news alert.
The headline catches my eye: "Trump Announces New Political Party."
I click on the article and scroll through the details.
A photo of Trump standing at a podium, flanked by American flags, dominates the top of the page.
A gaudy golden lion logo is emblazoned on a red and blue background, and it looks like it was designed by a teenager with a bad taste in clip-art.
I chuckle to myself.
The timing is almost too perfect.
Here I am considering writing about political radicalization, and Trump decides to announce his own new political party.
I open a new document on my laptop and begin drafting an Outline for what will become "The Descent: An Insider’s Warning."
As I type away, I pause for a moment, thinking back to that fateful day in the caucus room when some of my colleagues started echoing conspiracy theories as if they were fact.
