Jorge Volpi - In Search of Klingsor

“What’s wrong with you, Bacon?” Von Neumann asked him one day, blunt and direct as always. “Is something the matter? Oh, I think I know what it is. Women, right? Men are forever in torment at the hands of women. That is the quintessential problem of the age we live in, Bacon. If we took one quarter of the time we spend resolving romantic problems and applied it instead to physics or mathematics, why, scientific progress would advance in geometric proportions. But it is one of life’s great pleasures, isn’t it?”

“Pleasure and pain, Professor,” mumbled Bacon.

“Of course, of course! That’s what makes it so very fascinating! I have to confess, I also spend hours thinking about this subject. I’m a married man, you understand. You even met my wife, Klara, at the party the other day. But I’m still young. I have a right to wonder if I will ever know another woman’s body, wouldn’t you agree?” Von Neumann’s cheeks grew pink, livened by the topic of conversation. “Why don’t we have a little drink at the end of the day, to talk more? Yes, let’s do it, Bacon. In the meantime, let’s get to work.”

As the afternoon wore on, the sun transformed the red-brick exterior of the institute into a wall of fiery rose and violet, breaking through the somber cloud cover that normally settled in above the building. Once again, Von Neumann told Bacon to meet him at his home. Klara had gone out to play bridge with one of their neighbors, so they had the house to themselves and could talk freely. Bacon was beginning to feel more and more at home in that drawing room.

“When they first told me that alcohol was forbidden in the United States, I thought it was a joke,” said Von Neumann as he removed two glasses from the bar. “You can imagine how horrified I was when I found out it was true. Truly insane, those Americans. I tell you, I only accepted the position of visiting professor at the university under the condition that I could return to Europe each summer and replenish this drought.” He took out a bottle of bourbon and expertly poured the honey-colored liquid into two tall glasses. “Thank God they realized their mistake. Water? I take mine neat. All right, here you are … So, tell me, Bacon, what’s the matter with you?”

“I don’t know,” Frank lied. “I guess it would be different if …” He tried to correct himself: “It’s not that I’m unhappy at the institute, Professor, it’s just that I’m afraid that it might not be the right place for me right now.”

“Well, where else would you want to be?”

“That’s my problem. On one hand, I can’t think of any other place I’d rather be. Everyone is here. But for that reason, I get the feeling that my own work will never be very important at the institute.”

The professor shook his head, as if he was sincerely distressed. “I’ve always said that one’s mathematic capacity begins to decline after age twenty-six, so let’s see, you have how many years left?”

“Four.”

“Four! It’s terrible, isn’t it? Well, anyway, I am thirty-eight, though I think I hide it rather well.” He took a few sips from his glass, then wiped his lips with a linen napkin. “Nevertheless, I get the sense that the institute isn’t the only thing on your mind. You’ve got a problem with the girls, don’t you?”

Bacon was grateful for his tutor’s advice, but he wasn’t altogether convinced that he wanted to discuss his private life with him. The truth was, he didn’t like discussing his private life with anyone.

“So tell me, what’s the matter?”

“Well, it’s about two women….”

“I knew it! See what a good nose I’ve got, Bacon? People think that mathematicians are completely out of touch with the real world, but it’s just not true. Sometimes we are even better observers than regular people. We see things that others don’t.” He paused. “Do you love them both?”

“In a way, yes. I’m not sure. One of them is my fiancée. She’s a fine girl, very sweet.”

“But you don’t love her.”

“No.”

“So then marry the other one.”

“I can’t do that, either. I … I wouldn’t know how to explain it to you, Professor.” Bacon took a gulp of bourbon to fortify himself. “The other girl is very different. I don’t even know if I truly know her, much less love her. We barely even talk.”

“That’s a problem, that’s for sure … you’ve got a real problem on your hands,” Von Neumann mused. “Do you see how, once again, I was right? These are the issues that affect us all the time, even if we can’t admit it to ourselves. But don’t think that mathematics doesn’t come in handy at times like this.” The professor finished his drink and immediately poured himself another. Aside from his one sip, Bacon had barely touched his. “That’s why I’m so taken with game theory. Or did you just think it was some eccentricity of mine, passing the time with heads and tails and poker games? No, Bacon, what makes these games truly fascinating is that they mimic the behavior of men. And they serve, above all, to clarify the nature of three very similar issues: the economy, the war, and love. I’m not kidding. These three activities effectively represent all the battles we men wage against one another. In all three, there are always at least two wills in conflict. Each one attempts to take the greatest possible advantage of the other, at the least possible risk to himself.”

“Like in your war example.”

“Exactly, Bacon. Now, recently I have been more worried about the economic application of this theory, but your case would be a fine exercise to test. Let’s see. There are three players: you and your two girlfriends, whom we will call—in the interest of discretion—A and B. You will be C. Now you tell me what each person wants.”

Bacon’s hands grew clammy, as if he were preparing for confession. “The first one, the one you call A, is my fiancée. She wants us to get married. She’s always hinting at it and pressuring me—it’s all she thinks about. Girl B, on the other hand, only wants to be with me, but that, obviously, will be impossible if I agree to marry A.”

“Understood. And you, what do you want?”

“That’s the worst part of it. I don’t know. I think I’d like to keep things just as they are right now. I don’t want things to change.”

Von Neumann got up from his chair and began to pace around the room. He clapped his hands, as if he were applauding something, and then contemplated Bacon with a paternal, ever so slightly condescending look in his eyes.

“I’m afraid that you are trying to bet on inaction, perhaps the most dangerous thing you can do in a case like this. You can try, of course, but even the laws of physics would be against you on this one. In games, one always attempts to move ahead, to advance to new objectives, and slowly destroy the adversary. That’s how your two women are behaving. Both of them are trying to corner you, bit by bit, while you simply assume a defensive stance.” Von Neumann returned to his chair and rested his fat hand upon Bacon’s shoulder. “As your friend, I have to warn you that your strategy is doomed to fail. Sooner or later, one of them is going to wear you down. In fact, they don’t even realize it but they are actually competing with one another. You’re not a player in this, boy! You’re only the prize!”

“So what should I do, then?”

“Oh, dear Bacon. I’m only referring to game theory, not real life. Reason is one thing—as you so astutely observed in our last discussion—but human will is an entirely different animal. All I can say is that if I were in your shoes, there would only be one thing to do.”

“And are you going to tell me what that is, Professor?”