“Come look at this,” she said, beckoning the professor with a distracted hand-wave. “This can’t be right, can it?” “That depends, my dear, on what I’m supposed to be looking at.”

She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, an almost imperceptibly proud smirk on her lips. “An algorithm. Next-gen predictive statistics. Better than google! Supposed to pick the winning candidate of every executive, congressional, or parliamentary election in the first and second world basically forever.”

“I see the problem. At 2020, the math breaks down.”

“That’s just it -- the math is working! There’s just…nothing after 2020.”