Chapter 23: The Future Will Have to Worry About Itself

December 5, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

On Monday, when I arrived at the office, I stopped in to check with Rich and Mark about any events overnight, then went to the new Research Department offices. I was the first in, and saw, as Jack had said, everything was moved and set up, ready for the team to begin work.

I walked into the break room, put my lunch in the empty fridge, started a pot of coffee in the new machine, and then went to my new office. I hung my suit coat on a hanger behind the door, sat down, turned on my IBM PC and Bloomberg terminal, and got to work. Tony arrived about twenty minutes later and came to the door.

"Nice," he said, surveying the office. "We just need some artwork. I'm not sure if you're aware, but Mr. Spurgeon has a large selection of art from which you could choose."

"I commissioned five paintings from Deanna Haight," I said. "She's the artist renting the loft at my house. It'll be a few months, but they'll go up on the walls here. All abstract."

"That's cool. I didn't realize one of your housemates was an artist."

"You must have missed the article in the 'Tempo' section of the Trib where my name was mentioned as her patron."

"I don't pay much attention to anything other than the comics in the 'Tempo' section. How did that come about?"

"Let's get some coffee, and I'll tell you."

We went to the break room, and I poured coffee for each of us into new Spurgeon Capital Research mugs that Mr. Matheson had purchased for us, and I explained meeting Deanna, the art show, and the article by Stan Jakes.

"You have a very interesting setup," he observed. "Married, Bianca's having your baby, and you have another female housemate!"

"Two, actually, not to mention Jack Clinton and his fiancée Kristy Benton."

"Mark Benton's daughter and the mailroom guy?"

"Yes."

"Things are sure changing, because a few years ago, no trader would be caught dead with their daughter marrying a mailroom guy!"

"I don't buy any of the classist crap," I replied. "And neither does Kristy. Jack is actually studying for his securities license. He'll follow a more traditional path and be a runner at one of the exchanges in a few years."

"How's your wife?"

"About the same," I replied. "But you know the score."

"Sucks, man."

"It does."

"Morning!" Steve Smith said, coming into the break room.

"Morning," I replied. "Everything good with your setup?"

"Excellent. Bianca really thought it through. I have a question for you."

"Sure. What?"

"What's your take on the Black–Scholes model for hedging?"

"I think it's one possible input into the mix of analyses," I replied. "I absolutely think we should use it, though, as with all formulae, tempered with other methods."

"I'd like to work it into currency hedges to start with."

"That makes sense," I replied. "Did you discuss it with Bianca?"

"Yes. She asked me to run it by you."

"Do it, and use a thirty-day testing period where you generate the numbers and make paper trades. Bring me that analysis, and if it provides an advantage, we'll incorporate it into the FX analysis."

"Great! On it!"

"Thanks. I know it's only your second day, but what do you think?"

"I get paid to think?" he asked with a grin. "Who knew?!"

"I take it your old job was 'write this program', and you had little input."

"Effectively zero. It's one reason I was interested in this job — I get to have real input into what I'm doing and write elegant, efficient code of my own design. Well, with Bianca's blessing."

I chuckled, "Story of my life in Chicago so far! Not much happens without Bianca's blessing!"

"But you're not married to her, right?"

"Right. It's a complex situation."

"The best ones are!" he grinned. "Off to the salt mines!"

He poured coffee and left the break room.

"He's a real character," Tony said. "I spoke with him for about fifteen minutes on Friday, and he can be a real smart ass. I think he toned it down because you're the boss."

"Someone has to be in charge, but we're a team," I countered. "We sink or swim together. And you know Noel Spurgeon could wipe the team out as quickly as he created it."

"The desks are all on board now that Enderlee is gone, right?"

"There's some low-level bitching, but we're turning out better work product as a department than we did as individual analysts, so it's muted. You know a few of the traders think their dick size is directly affected by the number of staff they have."

"Well," Tony smirked, "you have the largest staff..."

I laughed, "On that note..."

"Yeah!"

We left the break room, he went to his desk, which was right outside my office, and I stopped to talk to Scott, who had just arrived. Two minutes later, I went to my office, and I had just sat down when Bianca stuck her head in to say 'Hello'.

"I need some time with you to show you how to work with the shared files on the Novell server and the two shared printers."

"After lunch?" I suggested.

"Sounds good. I'll set time with the rest of the team, so for now, everyone will just save their reports to the library on the mainframe where the secretaries can access them. Once the entire department is up to speed, all of it will be saved on the Novell server, and we'll upload a single consolidated report."

"Thanks. Steve Smith talked to me about incorporating the Black–Scholes model into our analysis. I agreed though we'll run it in parallel for thirty days before we incorporate it. That'll let us iron out any glitches. I didn't ask, but how long to set that up?"

"The equation and formulae are well defined," Bianca replied. "We just need to add Delta and Gamma into the analysis we already do with Alpha and Beta. There are a pair of financial journal articles from 1973 that give the equations and technical explanation, which Steve has. Those are sufficient to program the model; it should take no more than a day or two to have a working model. Could I suggest we plan to go live on the first trading day of next year? That's less than thirty days, but it would be a good breaking point."

I thought about it for a minute before answering.

"I think so. It's only one component, and we're only going to use it for hedging FX to begin with."

"Thanks. I'll run regression models every Monday to cover the previous week, as well as some historical regressions."

"Can I say I'm very glad I'm taking this stats class, so I have a clue what you're talking about?"

Bianca laughed, "You can. Did you cover anything like this in class?"

"Which?"

"Partial differential equations."

"No. The math class was basically remedial algebra and a basic introduction to calculus. I'll need to actually take two semesters of calculus before I could even begin to understand the math behind the complex models. The cool thing is, I don't have to! That's what I have you and Steve for, and why we rely on the work of mathematicians! I'll probably take those courses."

"Are you signed up for next semester?"

"International finance on Saturday mornings," I replied. "I think I'll skip the Summer, then take first-semester calculus in the Fall. What about you?"

"Probably a year from January; the baby should be sleeping through the night by then."

"Our next pre-natal visit is on Saturday morning, right?"

"Yes, at 9:00am. I figure we just go straight from Doctor Wisniewski's office to Jewel and the dry cleaner. I checked, and Deanna will be home with Keiko."

"Did Keiko tell you Ellie and some of the girls were coming over for dinner tonight?"

"Yes," Bianca confirmed.

"She's ordering Chinese, and enough for everyone."

"She let me know. I need to get some coffee and get to work!"

She left, and I began updating my global stability report. The world was, all things being equal, comparatively calm now that the operations in Grenada had concluded, and nothing much had come of the Soviet downing of KAL 007. The usual low-intensity conflicts were continuing, but none of them appeared to be spreading, and the Soviets were, as best I could tell, trying desperately to find a face-saving way out of Afghanistan.

The biggest concern was terrorism, but things on that front had been at a relative lull since the Beirut barracks bombing. The best analysis said the lull would not last, but it was impossible to predict how or where any of the innumerable terror groups might strike. Given that impossibility, I could only account for the risk of terror attacks, which, from what I could discern, I rated as moderate.

Perhaps the most interesting item was the upcoming transition from rule by military junta to democracy in Argentina. Raúl Alfonsín was set to begin a term as President on Saturday, and that, to me, increased the notional risk for instability in Argentina and certainly warranted keeping a very close eye on their currency and economy. I couldn't judge the chances of success with any certainty, but if Argentina's history meant anything, financial and political instability would continue for quite some time.

Volumes on the exchanges were dropping as December progressed, a normal occurrence, as many traders began taking vacations and had configured their portfolios to more or less operate on autopilot, barring some major world event which would call them back to their desks. December options expiry was also one of the calmest, as many of those positions were closed out before the traders went on vacation.

I completed my analysis, and as my teams filed their reports, I reviewed them, making notes both for constructive criticism, but also items to review for my Cincinnatus Fund. If my call on AUD was even close to accurate, my total return for the year would be 35%, against the S&P and DJIA, which were predicted to return around 20%.

Barring some bizarre occurrences in the markets, I was going to beat Murray Matheson, as his projected return was around 30%, though he was somewhat hamstrung by the money he managed for international trade counting against his total return. As for Noel Spurgeon, I was neck-and-neck with the Spurgeon Select Fund, and it would be interesting to see his reaction if I beat him.

I was reasonably sure I'd be paid my full bonus for the year, and with my salary, commissions, special bonus, and carried interest, I'd make north of $200,000 for the year. While that number was staggering, it was a tenth of what Mr. Matheson was likely to earn, and Noel Spurgeon would make at least five times what Mr. Matheson did, not counting the returns he earned on his personal capital.

Despite the staggering number, I'd give it all up if it meant Keiko could be cured. Sadly, even all of Noel Spurgeon's money wouldn't help without a matching donor, which we hadn't found despite the assistance of his friend in Japan. There were, simply, plenty of things money could not buy.

I had lunch with Bianca in the break room; we worked out, and then she spent thirty minutes with me showing me how to save my work on the Novell server and how to use the shared printers. At 2:00pm, we all gathered for our weekly staff meeting, and then, at 3:00pm, I headed home.

Not long after I arrived, Ellie, Meg, Kasey, and Josie arrived to spend the evening with Keiko. I ate with them but then hung out with Deanna and CeCi so the girls could have some time together. They stayed until just before 9:00pm, and after they left, Keiko and I went up to bed, with me helping her with her oxygen cylinder.

"Did you have a good time with your friends?" I asked once I'd helped her settle into bed.

"I did. Thank you for understanding."

"I think you're the one who deserves the thanks, given how much time I spend with Violet."

"She's going to need you for the rest of her life," Keiko said quietly.

"I suspect you're right," I said, getting into bed next to Keiko.

"Do you think it's possible for her to get past what happened to her?"

"Possible? Yes. I have no idea what the probability might be."

"If she could, you'd be a perfect couple."

"Keiko-chan," I said gently. "Please don't."

"You know I worry about you."

"I do. And I appreciate that."

"I love you very much, Jonathan, and I want what's best for you in the future."

"I know," I replied. "I love you very much, and, for now, the future will have to worry about itself."

December 7, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

When I arrived home on Wednesday, Keiko was sitting in one of the Papasan chairs and was wearing an oxygen mask. I thanked Atsuko, who left, then walked over to Keiko, who moved the oxygen mask so we could share a kiss.

"How bad?" I asked.

"My blood oxygen levels, what Jennifer called PO₂, were down to 89% on the cannula, so she spoke to Doctor Morrison, who said to switch from the cannula to the mask. That brought my oxygen level up to 93%."

"How are you feeling?"

"A bit better. I was feeling very weak and tired after you left for work. I took my nap in the bed here because I simply didn't feel I had the energy to climb the stairs."

"Have you eaten properly today?"

"Yes. I don't have much of an appetite, but my grandmother makes sure I eat my small meals every few hours. And makes sure I drink enough water and herbal tea."

"OK. Let me go change, then I'll come sit with you."

I went upstairs to change, and while I was undressing, I decided to place a call to Doctor Morrison. Once I had on my sweatpants and rugby shirt, I picked up the Slimline phone and dialed his number. I was fortunate to catch him in his office.

"Morrison; Oncology."

"Hi, Doctor Morrison; it's Jonathan Kane."

"Hi, Jonathan. I assume you're calling about Keiko's blood oxygen?"

"Yes. I remember you mentioned this was likely, but I'd like to know what to expect next."

"In all honesty, I cannot give you an answer with any certainty."

"Speculate, please. And please be direct and don't pull any punches."

"Let me answer this way," he said. "As her blood oxygen levels decrease, she'll have less and less energy. At some point, she'll need a catheter because she simply won't be able to get out of bed to use the toilet. When that happens, we'll switch her to what amounts to a liquid diet – a drink made with protein powder in addition to the pediatric solution she drinks to maintain her electrolyte balance.

"Over the next few weeks, her kidneys and liver will function less effectively, and unless she agrees to dialysis, it will lead to decreased mental acuity, to the point where she becomes incoherent. That's when she'd need a nasogastric tube for nourishment — a feeding tube which goes into her nose. She could refuse that, which I suspect she will, and we'd sustain her with a glucose IV.

"Eventually, fluid and toxins will build up in her system, and she'll likely suffer from pulmonary edema — fluid in her lungs. In addition, fluid will build up in the sac around her heart. We'll give her Lasix, which is a diuretic, but eventually her organs will fail, and it's very likely she'll suffer cardiac arrest."

"There's no way she's going to accept dialysis."

"I know. It was something I discussed with her."

"How long?"

"She refused any additional blood tests, which I understand, but that makes it hard to judge."

"Just a range, please," I requested.

"Weeks. I do not see how she could make it past mid-January, and even that long would be out of the ordinary."

"So, six weeks at the outside, but if I hear what you're saying, three or four is more likely."

"Yes. But, as I said, I can't really give you a specific answer."

"Thanks, Doctor. Is there anything I can do to make her more comfortable?"

"You have everything you need, and I've written the prescriptions. We can't give her many of the usual pain drugs, as they would suppress her respiration, which is already poor to start with, or they induce edema — the build-up of fluids. My choice, given all the possibilities, is IV ibuprofen and IV acetaminophen, basically a mix of Advil and Tylenol, in layman's terms. If those become ineffective, we'll give her Dilaudid because, at that point, the risk of depressed respiratory effects won't matter much. We'll also give her Versed to help her sleep."

"From what you're saying, if I can read between the lines, she could be incoherent before Christmas."

"I'd say that's entirely possible and perhaps even likely. I'm sorry, Jonathan."

"You've done everything possible, Doctor," I said. "If there's a fist to shake, it's at the universe, not at you."

"Thank you."

"How do I handle the end?" I asked.

"You have her signed and notarized Do Not Resuscitate order, along with a handwritten letter declining hospitalization and declining an autopsy, right?"

"Yes."

"The best thing is to arrange with Horizon Hospice for twenty-four-hour care at the end. The nurses will know the signs. I'll give you a number to call, and either I or one of the other oncologists will come at the end and sign the certificate. At that point, the funeral home you're using can take over. There is no need to call the police or for an ambulance if a physician is in attendance."

"OK. I'll make those arrangements."

"May I give you a phone number? It's a support group for people who have lost a loved one to cancer."

"I'm not sure that's my thing," I said. "But I'll take the number."

He read it to me, I thanked him for everything, and we ended the call. I replaced the receiver in the cradle, then went downstairs to be with Keiko.

"What took so long?" she asked.

"I called Doctor Morrison," I said. "I wanted to ask a few questions."