It hung over the crowd, like the pall that comes over a family reunion when you and all your relatives slowly realize that the catered General Tso's really is funky. But no one acknowledged it—not actor Danny Glover, nor fiery academic-activist Cornel West, nor even socialist dad-rockers Dave Matthews Band.

Just an hour before Bernie Sanders's "A Future to Believe In" concert at San Francisco's famed Crissy Field, in the shadow of the Golden Gate Bridge, the insurgent socialist's own future shriveled as the Associated Press called the Democratic primary for Hillary Clinton, who had amassed the magical number of delegates needed to clinch the nomination. But at the 10,000-person concert, which Mother Jones dubbed "Bernie Sanders' Coachella," Sanders followed in DMB's footsteps and declined to respond to the news. Instead, he stuck to his argument that superdelegates should switch their allegiance from Clinton because he's the stronger candidate in hypothetical polling match-ups against Donald Trump. Meanwhile, his camp released a statement criticizing the AP, a venerated news organization whose job it is to report the facts only, for its "rush to judgment." Sanders kept up his campaign of crotchety obstinacy even after Clinton declared victory Tuesday night, ignoring her historic win as the first woman to top a major party ticket and vowing to "continue the fight" to the Democratic convention in Philadelphia.

Sanders himself is too far gone to see the obvious—his aides told Politico last night that his attitude during this fraught coda has been "Screw me? No, screw you." But while Bernie diehards are also loath to accept his loss, this latest gut-wrenching news—that Clinton actually, legitimately won this thing—is harder to stomach. Now their passion, attention, and energy are shifting to a broader endeavor: How can they continue his political revolution?

"What you're gonna see," predicts Anthony Cohen, a 24-year-old in Chicago who has canvassed for Sanders across the country, "is a sort of blue Tea Party rising."

At campaign stops, Sanders frequently reminds his boisterous, worshipful supporters that this isn't about him; "it's about you." It's a hackneyed talking point for any politician, but many of his loyal fans have taken it to heart.

"It's not just a campaign for a candidate, to elect someone and then it's over," says Liam Clive, a spokesman for Brand New Congress, a new PAC dedicated to channeling the Bern momentum into electing progressives in Sanders's image to Congress.

Brand New Congress aligns most closely with what a blue Tea Party would be. The goal of the group, Clive says, is to elect a spate of progressive candidates to Congress in 2018—replacing the current officeholders in all 435 congressional districts in America, along with the 33 senators up for reelection. Though the group isn't endorsing any candidates this cycle, progressive Democrats are running all across the country: There's Zephyr Teachout in New York, Nevada's Lucy Flores, and Tim Canova, who's challenging Democratic National Committee Chair Debbie Wasserman Schultz in the primary for Florida's 23rd congressional district. This month, Brand New Congress embarked on a 100-city tour of America to find even more left-wing saviors. More than a thousand people have shown interest in the effort, Clive says, though there are only 100 active volunteers, and they've raised more than $70,000 so far.

There's also this: Clive is 16 years old, a fact I discovered when I Google-stalked him and saw that, listed on his website, his experience from 2015 included a create-your-own-start-up program for high schoolers. A former digital organizer for the Sanders campaign, he was one of hundreds of staffers laid off in April, after Sanders sustained four rough primary losses to Clinton.

Either failing to see or willfully ignoring the writing on the wall, a dedicated group of those fired started Brand New Congress in April to make sure that when President Bernard Sanders enters office, he'll have "a Congress which is there to support him, and there to support his legislation," Clive says. But if—and Clive is quick to parry even the suggestion that Bernie might not win implied by "if"—by some fluke in the Democratic nominating rules that have been set for the entire cycle, Sanders doesn't win, the group will carry on his legacy. "No matter what happens with the presidential election, we're going to need that progressive Congress there to champion the same things that Bernie has been championing."

In a separate effort in Chicago later this month, after all the primary voting is over, a group of Sanders allies is planning what they're calling a "People's Summit" to brainstorm how to "build the political revolution" Sanders spurred. Tulsi Gabbard, the Hawaii congresswoman who resigned her post at the Democratic National Committee to endorse Sanders, is slated to speak, along with a woman whose bonafides are listed as "born, raised, and now working on a family farm, tranistioning [sic] to organic." They hope to hammer out a "People's Agenda" tackling criminal justice, taxes on Wall Street, raising the minimum wage to $15, and other issues.