Taylor rushed into the unsuspecting campaign office, nothing more than a small, unbranded shop with some window space in downtown Cambridge. The software engineers who developed Simon, Francesca and Philip, had fronted the first months’ rent, insisting that if Simon were to run for office he should be accessible to the public from day one.

Setting his bag down on the counter, he pushed the squeaky swinging door to the back of the shop and slumped down into a folded chair in front of a small plastic table adorned with a collection of mugs from a handful of previous campaigns.

Some of Taylor’s previous races had a hard time staffing up with little budget to start with — this race was the opposite. It seemed like every person he contacted was eager to have their name somewhere in whatever was going to be written about Simon’s campaign. Taylor managed to recruit both Marjorie, his Fundraising Director, and Dave, his Comms Director to work pro bono until the campaign had enough in the bank to pay them. This race meant something to everyone who was involved.

Marjorie walked in a few minutes after Taylor.