The year is 2044. Online Lefties have been “withholding their votes” for 28 years in order to “finally get a leftwing government.” We are now paid for our 20 hour workdays in boulders. We eat the smaller rocks for dinner.

“At least we didn’t vote for Hillary,” says one online lefty as he butters his mid-sized rock with some gravel. “Her neoliberal education policy didn’t even include free college!”

No one has even attended high school in over a decade.

“Biden’s climate policy was a disaster,” the online lefty continues. His voice is raspy now. The hunting party they sent out five days ago to find water was supposed to have returned 24 hours ago.

“I just can’t bring myself to vote for a Democrat. When are they going to appeal to mee!!?” He twists a dirty Feel the Bern shirt above his head and drinks the tiny tear droplets that fall from it.

He looks longingly at the shirt and takes a pic. Somehow, Twitter still exists, and the Republicans love it. They call it “the place where elections are won” even though it’s only Lefties on the site now.

He uploads his dirty masterpiece with a caption he knows will sell: “LOLZ DEMS SUK Hillary was a warmonger FEEL THE BERRRRRN!!!” It goes viral. Millions of other online lefties eating their fresh rocks like his tweet simultaneously. “I did good work today,” he tells himself.

The election is one month away, but he won’t be voting. He never does.

He tweets, though. “This time the establishment will learn to listen to us!” He presses send, and then digs a hole in the ground to poop in, using his overly long fingernails as a shovel.

He stops.

“Oh this hole was for mom,” he thinks. He had just buried her yesterday. “Rocks never sat well with her.”

He continues and poops there anyway. “I’ve already used up all of the other holes.”

Relieved, he dozes off in a field of crab grass—the only plant species left in North America. He dreams of that one week between New Hampshire and Nevada. “We showed them, didn’t we,” he murmurs.

Like Herman Cain, he stays logged onto Twitter. He never truly leaves it. “That tweet got 40k likes—people REALLY hate the establishment!” will have to sustain him through the long cold Winter.

Tonight, though, he rests well. He has a belly full of rocks, and for once, he only pooped on himself a little. “Rest easy, king,” his followers reply. Life is temporarily looking up for homo bernensis.