by Jacob Whaler
“I don’t want any guy. And I certainly don’t want one that’s only interested in my family’s money. Love is strange when you think about it.” One of her hands comes up to his shoulder. “I could say it’s because of your irresistible dark hair or those mysterious Asian eyes. Or because you’re smart. Or because you’re kind and gentle. Or because you like to ski and rock climb, just like me.”
Matt waits for her to go on. His internal camera is recording everything about her in this moment so he can recall and savor it later.
She turns around and lets her eyes drift up to meet his. “All those things are true, but that’s not why I love you.”
He shakes his head, not understanding. “Then why?”
“The truth is, I don’t know. I just feel peaceful and calm when I’m with you. No particular reason. Nothing I can put my finger on. We’re just meant to be together. Chemistry, I guess.”
“But what about your dad?”
She turns back around without answering and stares up into the night sky. “So many stars. Worlds without number.” Her breath is sweet below him. “Do you really think the universe just happened by chance?”
“It doesn’t really matter,” Matt says. “The fact is that it did happen. Whether by chance or design. And somehow you and I are here together. That’s all that matters to me.”
She backs closer into him, lifts her hands up and weaves her fingers into his. “I wonder what it’s like to be God, to have cosmic power. To be able to do anything you want, but only use that power for good. To create worlds and life and people. To love them and feel their love.” She pulls away and turns to face him, looking up into his dark eyes with that piercing intensity that he worships. “What would you do if you were God? What kind of world would you create?”
Matt nibbles on his lower lip. A mischievous thought passes through his mind.
“Well,” he says. “My world will be in a far corner of the universe. Orbiting a triple-star system. There will be an ocean full of whales and dolphins.” He stops to think.
“Is that all?” Jessica says. “There’s got to be more to it than that.”
“Now the good stuff.” Matt draws in a deep breath and lets it slowly come out. “It will have one massive continent with a pristine white sand beach all the way around. A few hundred meters in, I’ll make a warm green jungle full of towering trees and gentle dinosaurs, and perhaps a few scary ones just for fun. Above the jungle will be a mountain range that spans the continent parallel to the shore. It’ll be covered in dry snow as warm as sunshine, year round. Ultra-light powder, like what they have in Utah. The best skiing in the universe.”
Matt pauses, waiting for Jessica to reply, but she is silent as her eyes scan his face.
“What do you think?” he says.
“I was just imagining what it would be like,” Jessica says. “Sounds pretty awesome, but there’s got to be more.”
“I’ll have three homes, each one Japanese style with tatami on the floor and open rooms. I’ll put one on the beach and keep one in the jungle. A mobile home will float just above the peaks with access to skiing out the front door. There will be Japanese-style hot tubs in each one and a portal so that you can move instantly between them. We’ll have sushi and gyoza every night.”
“We?”
“That’s the best part.” Matt bends down with his mouth next to Jessica’s ear and nibbles with his lips. “Just the two of us and a bunch of kids as crazy as me about you and skiing. And then I’ll put the rest of the universe on auto-pilot and just enjoy life with you and the kids. Forever.”
Jessica turns back around to look at the night sky, pulling Matt’s arms down and wrapping them around her.
“Maybe it will happen,” she says. “But not the auto-pilot part. If you were God, you’d still have to take care of the rest of the universe.”
He squeezes Jessica extra hard and nuzzles her warm neck with his lips. “Seems to me that’s exactly what God has done. Taken a long vacation and just left the world to itself.” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth.
Jessica is silent for a long time.
He knows that she’s thinking, trying to figure out how to answer him in a way that will help him understand.
He wants to understand.
“I know that’s the way it looks sometimes,” she says. “Maybe even most of the time. But it’s not true. Somebody is out there. And they love us. We just have to be patient and trust in them. All things have a purpose. It will be clear soon enough, and we’ll agree that it’s been worth the suffering.”
“Wow.” Matt takes in a deep breath. “I want to believe, Jess, but I can’t. Don’t you see? You just gave me the stock answer given by people who believe in God. Just have faith, and everything will work out.” Matt feels himself getting pulled into the same old conversation, one they’ve had many times before. “Why can’t you just accept the facts without trying to explain them? The world is full of suffering. Innocent children die every day. People get cancer. There’s unspeakable injustice. If there were an all-powerful, all-loving God, he surely wouldn’t allow any of this to happen. He wouldn’t allow sadness, period. So there must not be a God.”
Matt doesn’t want the evening to end in an argument, but he also doesn’t want Jess to believe in fairytales.
Jessica stretches out her arms and points up at the stars. “There’s only one way to take away all the suffering. God would have to use force. He’d have to control our minds and choices. Turn us into slaves.” Her hands come up around Matt’s neck, pulling gently. “But he loves us too much to do that. A world without real choices would be its own version of hell. Everything might look great on the surface, but we’d all just be little robots underneath. No freedom. No growth. No joy. A nightmare.”
There’s more silence between them.
Matt decides it’s time to concede defeat, at least for now. “That’s one of the reasons I love you. You have an answer for everything.”
The porch light goes on, bathing them both in brightness and erasing the night sky.
“Yep,” Jessica says in her usual confident voice. She turns around to face Matt again. Her lips move slowly, but no sound comes out.
It’s a game she likes to play, mouthing words and letting him read her lips. She always says it will come in handy someday. And he always plays along, happy for any excuse to focus on her lips.
Now he sees them moving and knows what she’s saying.
“My dad is on the other side of the door, listening. I have to go.”
“I’m not saying goodbye.” Matt moves his lips in silence. “Things will be better when I get back from Japan in September. I’ll talk to your dad, answer his questions. Make him understand. Don’t worry.”
Strands of long brown hair rise and fall around Jessica’s face, moved by a gentle evening breeze that blows across the porch. Matt slides his arms around her one last time, holds her close and feels the warmth of her body in the cool June air. Dropping his head down, he inhales the smell of her hair one last time. Intoxicating.
A symphony of crickets plays in the darkness.
With his head still bent down, Matt touches his lips to the top of Jessica’s head. His eyelids float shut. He makes a conscious effort to burn this moment forever into his mind. It’s like turning on an internal jax to make a permanent record of every sensation flowing through his mind and body at that instant. His mother taught him to do it as a child, a way of capturing memories for later recall. He did it often up at Skull Pass, pausing at the top of a long expanse of powder before ripping through it. He adds this moment with Jessica to his collection of perfect memories so he can replay them later.
When the dark times come.
And then, with his eyes shut, Matt senses a strange urge to reach into his pocket and wrap his hand around the rock. As he lets his fingers find it, time and space fall away, leaving only him and Jessica. Her thoughts become his thoughts. Her senses become his senses. Her fears
become his fears.
For a fleeting second, they are one.
When it’s over, Matt releases the rock and takes a small step back. “I’m not going to say goodbye, ever.”
“Neither am I.” Jessica puts her arms around his neck. “But I am going to give you something to remember while you’re in Japan. I’ve been saving for a long time.”
She pulls him down, and he feels the warmth of her lips against his.
CHAPTER 13
Van Pelt flashes a glance at Ryzaard and nods.
Ryzaard points to the slate on the table in front of Alexa. She checks to make sure there is a signature from every director. The confidentiality agreements themselves don’t matter. It’s all part of a carefully managed show. Ryzaard has learned from experience that if you need people to do something, just make them part of a secret, or at least make them think they are part of a secret. Offer them a chance to be in the inner circle, and they will do whatever you ask.
Van Pelt stands and walks to the front of the desk and faces the directors. The show is about to begin.
“Thank you very much for your cooperation. I’m glad to have that unpleasant bit of business behind us. I trust that all of you have heard of Dr. Mikal Ryzaard.” Van Pelt opens one palm to the directors and motions to Ryzaard with the other. “He is now serving as Vice President of Trading Research at MX Financial, having replaced the prior vice president due to a rather unfortunate hunting accident.”
As if by a magnet, the directors’ eyes are drawn to Ryzaard.
Sudden pleasure buoys him up. The joy of the predator as its jaws sink into the prey. Judging from their feeble attempts at suppressing the fear on their faces, the directors are going to give him whatever he asks for.
“Allow me to introduce him.” Van Pelt turns to Ryzaard. “He has a matter of utmost importance to share with you tonight. I suggest you give him your full attention. You’ll be glad you did.”
Ryzaard suffers a slight smile to appear on his face as he nods to the chairman.
Lights darken in the boardroom. Van Pelt stands aside as the glass screen behind him lights up with a video image of Professor Ryzaard in his signature tweed jacket and bowtie writing briskly on an ancient blackboard, teaching a classroom full of eager university students. As he turns around, his broad smile is clearly visible.
The deep bass voice of the narrator begins to speak.
“Prior to coming to MX Global, Dr. Ryzaard was a distinguished professor of archeology at Oxford University.”
The walls around the directors came alive with images of a younger man with a black mustache and fewer lines on his face, dressed in khakis, a long-sleeved shirt and a canvas hat.
“In his long and distinguished career, Dr. Ryzaard has directed archeological digs around the world.”
A revolving earth appears on the screen. Red dots emerge around the globe. In turn, the screen zooms in on each location as it flashes a name and then the familiar image of Ryzaard, always with his khaki long-sleeved shirt and a team of college kids, engaged in excavation work. Baalbek, Lebanon. Persepolis, Iran. Pazyryk, Russia. Hierakonpolis, Egypt. Baga Gazaryn Chuluu, Mongolia. Ban Non Wat, Thailand. The list goes on.
“Dr. Ryzaard is well-known for his uncanny ability to precisely locate important sites and artifacts. His greatest professional achievement was the discovery of the lost tomb of Genghis Kahn.” A video shows Ryzaard standing on a grassy plain next to a large excavated site.
The directors stare at the image.
Ryzaard wonders if they notice the Stone in his hand.
“This caused considerable excitement in the world of archeology. A short time later, Dr. Ryzaard received a MacArthur Fellowship, commonly known as the Genius Grant, to support his work in archeology and elsewhere.” A predictable video comes up on the wall to the side of the directors. It shows Ryzaard in his tweed jacket and bowtie, smiling with an oversized check for $1,000,000. “This brought him to the attention of MX Global.”
The lights in the boardroom come back on.
Van Pelt has his hands together in a gesture of genteel pride. “So, you may be wondering what all of this,” he waves his hands at the glass walls around the directors, “has to do with the work of the corporation.” Resting his chin on the tips of his fingers, he narrows his eyes, and then looks up at the directors.
Ryzaard smiles at the performance.
“I ran into Dr. Ryzaard at an international conference on mathematical prediction theory a little over three years ago.” Van Pelt struts before the directors as if he fancies himself an Oxford professor delivering a lecture on thermodynamics. “Over lunch, we discussed the use of algorithms in predicting the location of ancient artifacts, such as his discovery of the Genghis Kahn burial site.”
Van Pelt stops, cocks his head to the side and strokes his chin with an index finger and thumb. “It occurred to me that these same algorithms might have application to other phenomena, such as stock and futures trading.” He stands silent and triumphant in front of the directors, letting his words sink in. “Dr. Ryzaard was intrigued with my suggestion. Apparently, he had never thought of this approach before speaking with me.” He glances at the side of the room where Ryzaard is sitting.
Ryzaard provides the obligatory nod, happy for now to forgive this wholly fictitious and one-sided telling of their encounter. The truth is that the meeting with Van Pelt was carefully orchestrated by Ryzaard so that he would walk away with a job offer. But none of that matters. As long as the directors vote in favor of the proposals that will soon come before them, all will be well. He won’t have to endure Van Pelt’s pompous presence beyond the end of the meeting.
The voice drones on. “So we brought Dr. Ryzaard to MX Financial a little over three years ago to test this hypothesis. Based on preliminary results, I ordered a new hedge fund to be set up for proprietary trading. And, as you all know, it has been a stunning success.”
The lights dim again.
An earnings chart for the last five years of MX Financial crawls along the wall in front of the directors. As it moves past them, the horizontal line hooks sharply upward at a point starting two years prior and continues on a steep trajectory.
“As a matter of fact, the trading program has worked so well for MX Financial that we’ve been forced to spread the profits around the entire corporate family to avoid unwanted attention.”
The wall to the right of the directors shows a familiar corporate organizational chart. MX Global is at the top. Below it, numerous subsidiary corporations fan out in both directions. The two largest subsidiaries, as all the directors know, are MX Scientific and MX Financial. One by one, the screen zooms in on a five-year earnings graph for each subsidiary. All have the same pattern, hooking up sharply during the last two years.
“As you are well aware, MX Global’s stock price is now ten times what it was eighteen months ago, making the shareholders very satisfied.” Van Pelt smiles and turns to his left. “I will let Dr. Ryzaard himself take it from here.”
A reverential hush falls over the directors as Ryzaard stands up and walks to the middle of the floor.
“I thank Chairman Van Pelt for his kind words. Needless to say, I have enjoyed immensely the last three years here at MX Global.” Ryzaard smiles at the earnings charts displayed on the side wall. “I trust that my presence has been of some use to the corporation.”
His hand slips into the pocket of his jacket and fingers a heavy object.
“I know your time is valuable, and we have already taken too much of it, so I’ll be brief.” Ryzaard casts a sideways glance at Van Pelt amid some quiet laughter from the directors.
“The computational models which I pioneered while at Oxford, although complex for most archeologists, were relatively simple and involved only a few dozen variables. The basic principle was to parse all the streaming data available and, applying computational analytics, gain insights which are statistically robust while maintaining predictive value.”
Ryzaard scans the directors to make sure they think they understand him when, in fact, he’s speaking pure gibberish. Most of the directors’ eyes have already started to glaze over. Van Pelt has assured him that there aren’t any mathematicians among them. His presentation is having exactly the effect he planned.
“I have refined my methods since coming to MX Financial. Using the massive power of MX Scientific’s XUNIL super-cluster system, we are now able to weigh over 500,000 separate real-time variables, both structured and unstructured, applying the method of predictive analytics. As a result, we’ve boosted our rate of return by an order of magnitude in the last twelve months.” Predictably, most of the directors are bobbing their heads up and down with feigned understanding. A couple of them look at him as if he is speaking a foreign language.
There is one exception, a certain Ms. Chen, recently added to the board of MX Global from one of its Beijing subsidiaries. She remains motionless while surveying Ryzaard with narrow eyes.
Before losing any momentum, Ryzaard decides it is time to wake them all up and deliver the killer punch.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says. Silence falls over the room, increasing the dramatic effect. “Our algorithms now allow us to predict the movement of stock and derivative markets in advance with 100 percent accuracy.” He drops his hands behind his back and lets the idea sink in for a few seconds.
More than one set of eyes among the directors shoots open.
Ms. Chen clears her throat, shakes her head, and raises her hand to speak.
Ryzaard nods in her direction.
“It’s impossible to predict the stock market,” she states flatly. “You may have made some lucky guesses or have gotten some good trading advice, but don’t expect us to believe you can predict with 100 percent accuracy. That’s not only ludicrous, it’s mathematically impossible.”