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Elaine Rich is a pharmacist in suburban Maryland. She sits at her kitchen table. She uses Google. She is currently beating the CIA at predicting the future.

This gives me a very specific kind of dizziness.

The US government did a study (because the government loves studies almost as much as they love missing the point) where they pitted "Superforecasters" (people like Elaine) against actual intelligence analysts. You know, the people with the satellites and the spies and the classified folders that say TOP SECRET in red stamps like in the movies.

Elaine won. She won by a lot. She is 30% more accurate than the people who have the nuclear codes.

Why? Because Elaine admits she has no idea what’s going on.

If you walk into a meeting and say, "I am 100% sure this project will work," you get a promotion. If you say, "I am 60% sure, because the universe is a chaotic void and I am but a small dust mote," you get fired.

We worship certainty. We love a guy in a suit who points at a chart and yells. But certainty is just a performance art. It’s a tuxedo made of confidence, but the tuxedo is empty.

Experts are "Hedgehogs." They know one big thing and use it to explain everything. "The economy is down because of interest rates." "My toast burnt because of interest rates."

Elaine is a "Fox." She knows many small things. She treats the future like a slightly broken slot machine. She doesn’t say, "North Korea will launch a missile." She says, "There is a 35% chance of a missile, provided the wind is blowing east and the Supreme Leader isn't taking a nap."

Here is a fact that feels like a joke: There are people who track the Domino’s Pizza delivery volume at the Pentagon.

If the Pentagon orders a lot of pepperoni at 2:00 AM, it means a war is starting. The analysts are hungry. The pizza is the grim reaper with cheese.

This is how prediction markets work. They don't care about your PhD. They care about the aggregate data of a thousand people betting on whether the world will end or if Taylor Swift will drop a single. It’s the wisdom of crowds, but the crowd is holding betting slips.

Definition: A person who knows they might be wrong about everything, all the time.

Use it: "I’m not indecisive, I’m a fallibilist. Also, I’m scared to order lunch."

Elaine is a fallibilist. She gets new info, and she updates her brain. It’s like an app update, but without the terms and conditions you don't read.

Most of us hate being wrong. When we are wrong, our brain releases chemicals that make us feel like we are being chased by a bear. Superforecasters don't feel the bear. They just go, "Oh, I was wrong. Neat," and then they fix the math.

For five days, stop lying about how sure you are.

Don't say: "The Knicks will win."

Say: "I am 55% confident the Knicks will win."

Then write it down. Check if you were right. If you said you were 90% sure about ten things, and you only got five right, your confidence is a liar. You are over-confident. You are a Hedgehog in a world that needs Foxes.

Admitting you don't know is the only way to eventually know.

Stay curious. Stay terrified. Stay calibrated.

—David