Estimated reading time: 4–5 minutes
“I? I was left speechless, frozen between astonishment and despair.
I felt like a soldier in a trench, uncertain whether the bugle would sound the charge or the bombardment was about to begin.”
And in the midst of this dizzying mixture of old and new, there was a course called “Economic Cybernetics.”
It was taught by none other than Academician Edmond Nicolaou.
Economic cybernetics and Academician Edmond Nicolaou together formed a world of rigour, of systems and subsystems and merciless feedback loops — exactly like life itself.
The professor would appear in the lecture hall with the air of a general entering the parade ground.
He would pause for a moment, examining us with care, as though trying to assess the potential of a group of recruits who were only just beginning to discover their own weapons.
Without further ceremony, the academician would begin to draw on the blackboard: diagrams of closed systems, open systems, feedback loops, information flows and decision-making processes. As he drew, he explained.
The lines flowed with confidence, without hesitation, creating worlds we could barely glimpse.
The data and the solutions danced to their own rhythm, paying us no attention whatsoever.
I recall that at the first lecture, when he had finished drawing, he turned to us and said simply:
“And so that you may better understand what I have drawn, I have prepared a system of integral equations which describes with precision what I have attempted to explain to you in simple terms.”
The air in the room grew heavy at once.
The girls, who had been following the diagrams with wide eyes, lost the colour from their cheeks.
The boys fell silent. But not from pleasure or admiration.
I? I was left speechless, frozen between astonishment and despair.
I felt like a soldier in a trench, uncertain whether the bugle would sound the charge or the bombardment was about to begin.
Academician Nicolaou gathered his materials with a composure that seemed to say:
“I have done my part; now it is your turn.” He was neither arrogant nor cold.
As we came to know him, we discovered that he was a decent man, happy to share his knowledge without being insistent.
He opened the door for you, and it was up to you to have the courage and the patience to walk through it.
Our mistake was to confuse him with the difficult subject he taught.
We were beginning to sense that the world we were entering was not designed for quick impulses and cheap certainties.