The morning after the Presidential election, the Washington Post reported that a “palpable sense of dread” had settled on the U.S. intelligence community. That community is large—tens of thousands of people, working for seventeen agencies—so the reasons for such feelings varied. Among the many contenders: Trump’s statements during the campaign about America’s intelligence workers (“I won’t use them, because they’ve made such bad decisions”); his dismissal of the conclusion, by the office of the director of National Intelligence and by the Department of Homeland Security, that the Kremlin was committing cyber espionage; and his cavalier attitude toward nuclear proliferation. “Everyone I’ve spoken to is freaking out,” one intelligence official said. (Depressed, he had called in sick.) “No one knows what to expect. We’re in uncharted waters.”

The following Saturday, the official bought a box of coffee and eighteen doughnuts and welcomed four colleagues to his condo, in Arlington, Virginia. The purpose of the gathering, scheduled weeks earlier, was a daylong match of the classic Second World War-strategy board game Axis & Allies, in which the world’s major powers battle for global military domination. After the election, there had been talk of postponement. Somehow, role-playing nations at war seemed less amusing than it had on November 7th. But, ultimately, the officials decided that they needed a diversion. By 10:30 A.M., they had convened and selected their doughnuts (with the exception of the man playing Italy; he was at a baby shower). By 11 A.M., they had divvied up the map and assembled their miniature plastic forces. By 11:30 A.M., the apartment was at war.

Hitler directed his forces from the Wolfsschanze, a heavily fortified complex deep in the forests of northern Poland. The intelligence officers—five conservatively dressed men, just on the near side of middle age—directed theirs from a living room filled with vintage movie posters, overlooking a burrito shop. The folding table on which they worked had been liberated from a major American intelligence agency. “Don’t worry,” the official playing the United Kingdom, who was nursing a cold, said. “We’re professionals. We’ll return it before anyone notices.” He washed his Boston Kreme down with bourbon, to clear his sinuses.

For the first few hours, an eerie stillness presided. No one mentioned contemporary politics. On the board, German and Soviet infantries squared off in Eastern Europe. The British Navy settled in for a siege. The Japanese Army menaced the Indian subcontinent. (The player in charge of Japan had spent a restless night on the foldout couch, scanning Twitter.)

According to the rulebook, the official playing the U.S. was barred from attacking until Round 3. He amassed warships and bombers until mid-afternoon, when his time came, and he turned his forces west.

The official playing Italy arrived and surveyed the board. “This is how it goes, isn’t it?” he said. “First, American isolationism, then antagonistic powers running rampant, then, finally, war.”

It took a moment for the group to realize that he was talking about the new political reality.

“Except today Russia and China are adversaries,” the official playing the U.K. said.

“And their armies are no longer made up of malnourished peasants,” the U.S. said.

“And everyone has nuclear weapons,” Italy said.

Back to the game. The Americans took the Caroline Islands. France fell. The officials passed around the bourbon, and the mood lightened. The Soviet Union emerged from the bathroom, drying his hands on his jeans. “It’s amazing,” he said. “ ‘Back to the Future: Part II’ has basically come true. The Cubs have won the World Series, Biff Tannen is President, and soon it’ll be 1985 again.”

At 4:06 P.M., Japan’s phone dinged with a push notification. Hillary Clinton had blamed James Comey, the F.B.I. director, for her election loss. A tense silence descended: the community protects its own.

“It’s not like someone asked her to set up a private e-mail server,” the official playing Germany said.

“Christ, he was just doing his job,” Italy said.

The U.S. said, “This is the only election where the Russians can be accused of interfering on one side, the other side can be accused of mishandling classified information, and somehow the people tasked with righting both wrongs come out as the bad guys!”

By dusk, war-weariness had set in. The official playing the U.K. relinquished command and went home to sleep off his cold.

“The Second World War took five whole years to prosecute,” the U.S. said. He looked glumly out the window. “This game is never going to end.”

“Five years!” Germany said. “That’s like a Trump Presidency plus a year.”

The official playing Italy said, “I’m worried we’re going to be set back. China and Russia are going to have a field day.”

The official playing China: “Yep.”

On the board, the Soviet Army surrounded Berlin. The officials ordered pizza. ♦