"Out here on the perimeter there are no stars"
In Ventura County,California, people like the hills, wild and tangled with Chapparal and Oaks. Near the land of Reagan's grave and library, it's almost the country, and the place is clean and still a little rural and just far enough away from the grime and heat and gritiness of the LA metro area, so people don't mind an extra 30 mile drive to get there to work. This here is God's country, it's election day, and the registration is about 55-45 Republicans. This is very red country, boy. Today, I have no time for partisan battles. I'm working a poll. I'm an election officer. My name is Hickerson.
Dawn pokes a rosy nose through dull clouds of a humid summer day in Ventura County; it backlights the sky to the color of pink lemonade and the residual ground fog wisps around like a heavy metal video from the 80's. I pull into the parking lot. Day one of the New Dawn of elections: We're using the new Sequoia machines. At least they aren't Diebold.
What would happen next, I could only guess.
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