You can plug in and see a government in action from anywhere in the world if your internet is fast enough. StreamTwitterTextWhatever.
It is another thing to go into an overcrowded wood-paneled committee room, sit on the floor, hang off a railing, let your ass fall asleep in an over-hard chair. Hundreds of blue t-shirted people sitting slanty-mouthed. White haired grandmas. (Who knew so many people need glasses?) Men with beards and men with wrinkles and men with wrinkles and beards. A bunch of kids: shaggy haired guys and close cropped chicks. The occasional dab of red.
Their opponents wear red. And while others sat leaning with their hands in their mouths, the reds sat with their eyebrows arched. They had the smug smell of victory in their noses, swimming in the stinking sea of blue defeat.
The blues blew up their cheeks. They blew up their eyes. They dropped their jaws. You could see the realization wash over them like waves.
The wave comes in. The wave comes out. Their chests rise. Their chests fall.
This is not a moment you can click away. No moment you can check some other news. You sit and watch. It is over and you know it. And you think they know it but you don't want to speak. You want to hold your breath and hold the realizations out.
EVERYONE STANDS UP. EVERYONE STRAIGHTENS UP. The votes are beeping. The lights are lit. The roll is called. The bill is dead.
They stood away, not... anything. Perhaps it is a normal feeling. But what are those, anyway?