Metronome, The by D. R. Bell Read Free Book Online

write down all the elegant equations you want, but your theories have the empirical validity of alchemists trying to turn lead into gold. I am 74, and I still stand in awe of trying to discover the God-given laws of physics. They are permanent and exact. You, on the other hand, are pretending that you can precisely model human behavior, which is inherently impermanent and inexact.”
    “It’s not true; we have historical data to base our models on. And we don’t try to predict each individual behavior; we use probabilistic distributions.”
    “Historical data? How can you rely on historical data when the very system you are trying to model is being changed by the application of your models? I’ve seen some of the formulas you use; you just borrowed the heat transfer equation with normal distribution from physics. It works in physics precisely because its laws are permanent. In finance, the human behavior causes extreme events that are not subject to the normal bell curve distribution. Mandelbrot proved it, and you all ignored him because you are now practicing this Stalinist approach of politically correct science, when in reality you are just like Roman augurs, divining birds’ entrails to justify whatever campaign the leaders want. I think you’ve lost your way.”
     
    Anya saves me by her return.
    “Come on, Dad, you have not seen him in twenty years and that’s what you start with?”
    She turns to me with a smile.
    “My dad does not tolerate betrayal of his first love: physics. But why don’t you tell us how you ended up in a puddle of urine in a dark alley?”
    Grateful for the change of subject, I tell them everything starting with the middle-of-the-night call from Vakunin. Well, almost everything – I skip the part about Sarah. When I finish, Anya pours everyone another small shot of vodka.
    Yakov refuses his.
    “I am too old, you youngsters go ahead. It seems to me that they – whoever ‘they’ are – thought that your dad must have mailed you some information and have been following you in order to get it.”
    “Yes, I think they’ve been playing me all along,” I agree.
    “You said that your dad came to visit you last year?” asks Anya.
    “Yes, he did, in March.”
    “Was that the first time he visited you in America?”
    “Yes. There was a distance between us since my mother’s death. I thought he could do more to save her, to prolong her life. And he did not approve of me marrying Karen, did not come to the wedding. About seven years ago, we took a trip to Europe and came to St. Petersburg. That was the only time we saw him until last March.”
    “How long did he stay with you?”
    “Only a few days. He continued to Los Angeles. I remember taking him to a local travel agency; he had to make a slight change.”
    Yakov has that look of concentration that I remember from classes long ago. “Do you know why your dad flew to Los Angeles?”
    “He said he wanted to see California. I thought he was going to meet Simon – that’s my son’s name – who is going to university there, but they never connected.”
    “And where did he go from Los Angeles?”
    “I presume back to Russia.”
    “And how old was he at the time?
    “He was 80. But he was still in pretty good shape.”
    “So your dad, who is not known to travel internationally, at 80 decides to fly all the way to America, spends only a couple of days with his son, and then goes to Los Angeles where he does not even meet his grandson,” muses Yakov.
    When presented this way, things do look somewhat strange. My father came with gifts of books and kitschy matryoushkas . Karen thought the visit was his way of saying good bye. I was too busy with a new job to give his actions or reasons much thought.
    Yakov asks, “And what happened with you after that?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Exactly what I asked. I tried to follow your career a bit; there was something about you managing a money fund.”
    “A hedge fund. Well, after I