The room went quiet on the final play. A botched punt, the ball bouncing sideways like it couldn’t decide who deserved it. The crowd noise on the muted TV flickered into a replay, and four guys sat motionless for a beat before the noise returned: the soft chorus of thumbs unlocking phones.
Tyler broke the silence first. “Half a point,” he said flatly. “Half a damn point.”
“Didn’t you hedge?” Mark asked.
“Yeah, but it’s still garbage.”
“Break-even is still a win,” Nate said, quoting something he’d once heard a bookie say.
The TV’s glow cast everyone in a washed-out blue. On the coffee table: beer cans, tortilla crumbs, a betting slip someone had printed out just for the tactile pleasure of tearing it. Notifications chimed like slot machines. DraftKings was already advertising the next market before the replay ended—weather futures, stock direction, city elections.
“You guys get this new banner?” Drew asked. His phone screen reflected off his glasses. “Something called Civic Futures.”
“Yeah,” Tyler said. “That’s the new update. You can bet on elections now.”
“Wait,” said Nate, lowering his can. “You mean actual elections?”
“Apparently.” Drew frowned. “I guess I already did.”
Mark snorted. “What do you mean, you guess you did?”
“It was right under my parlay last week—like, ‘Add a civic boost!’ I thought it was just some promo thing. Ten bucks on some guy named Navarro.”
“Eli Navarro?” Tyler asked.
Drew nodded. “Yeah, him. Dude just won. It says I hit the payout.”
They all leaned toward him a little, curiosity breaking through the beer haze. The app’s interface was smooth and sterile, a gradient of navy and gold. Confetti animation, payout summary, and beneath it, a line graph showing odds over time. Navarro’s number climbed steeply in the last few days, a bright green surge like a heartbeat.
Mark gave a low whistle. “How much volume on that?”
Drew scrolled. “Forty-two mil.”
“Forty-two?” Nate sat upright. “For a city council race?”
“Yeah.” Drew’s voice was almost a whisper. “Says odds flipped right after the app started running the promo.”
Nobody spoke. On-screen, the broadcast cut to commercial—a clean-cut man shaking hands, standing in front of campaign posters. The voiceover was calm, confident. Eli Navarro: Building a future that works.
Tyler pointed. “That’s him.”
“Same ad from the app,” Drew said quietly.
Mark rubbed his temples. “So people bet on him, odds spiked, then everyone assumed he was gonna win, so they actually went and voted for him.”
No one answered.
The commercial faded back to football, another kickoff, another game. Drew’s phone buzzed again—Prediction Accuracy Bonus: Congratulations! Your pick influenced the outcome of the Midtown District election. +25% payout boost.
The words hovered for a moment before the screen dimmed.
Nate gave a short, nervous laugh. “Influenced the outcome,” he said. “That’s one way to put it.”
No one else laughed.