He says there are many possible futures, said the priest, and you should follow your instincts; he says our calendars are shit but they’re the best we’ve got, and we should think about revising them because we’ve gotten seriously behind; the year is 365.256 days long, not 365, like we thought. What does that mean, point two hundred and fifty-six? asked the tlatoani, and they both giggled maniacally.
