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P. Ferri's avatar

My dear Henry,

I have perused your recent disquisition on the artificial intelligence boom with genuine interest. You possess an undeniable flair for marshalling financial mechanics into a brisk, readable narrative, and your dissection of off-balance-sheet commitments and circular financing is entirely on the mark.

Before addressing the substance of your thesis, however, permit a friendly observation regarding your prose. Whilst I appreciate the urgency of dispatching one's thoughts to the digital presses, your essay suffers from a rather curious lexical affliction: an absolute infatuation with the word "likely". Within the span of a few paragraphs, things are "very likely", "more likely", "likely to trigger", "likely to be $100 billion", or else they "don't seem likely". One begins to suspect that the very artificial intelligence models you champion have annexed your thesaurus and rationed your adverbs. Whatever happened to "probably"? Or, Heaven forfend, "plausibly", "conceivably", "presumably", or "in all likelihood"? The English language is a magnificent instrument; there is really no need to play the entire symphony upon a single string.

Turning from style to substance, your central conclusion—that we are witnessing a judicious blend of rational investment and speculative excess, with the eventual reckoning still safely undetermined—strikes me as far too sanguine. You are hedging your bets where history and arithmetic demand a verdict.

In truth, it is virtually certain that we are amidst a monumental speculative bubble, one that mirrors in every structural detail the late-1990s dotcom mania which you experienced—and from which, I believe, you rather handsomely profited—from the very front row.

Consider the evidence you yourself have assembled, yet hesitate to carry to its logical conclusion:

The Extrapolation Fallacy: Taking a single summer month of Anthropic’s revenue, multiplying it by twelve to declare a $65 billion "run-rate", and then projecting it to $100 billion by early next year to justify a $1 trillion valuation is not sober financial analysis. It is the exact sort of heroic, straight-line extrapolation that was used in 1999 to value eyeballs, clicks, and fibre-optic capacity into the stratosphere.

The Return of Vendor Financing: You rightly highlight Nvidia investing billions into the very customers and data-centre operators that purchase its silicon, alongside providing massive credit backstops. In the late 1990s, when Lucent, Nortel, and Cisco lent billions to upstart telecoms so those same upstarts could buy their routers and switches, we eventually called it what it was: an unsustainable illusion of organic demand. Calling it "leverage" today does not make the revenue any less circular.

The Evaporation of Free Cash Flow: When the mightiest cash-generating titans in corporate history—companies like Alphabet—suddenly pivot to burning cash whilst piling up half a trillion dollars in off-balance-sheet obligations in a single quarter, we have long since departed the realm of prudent capital allocation. It is an arms race driven by existential terror, where executives fear the career risk of under-investing far more than the shareholder risk of destroying capital.

You wonder aloud whether the calendar currently reads 1997 or late 1999. When circular vendor financing becomes the lifeblood of hardware demand, and trillion-dollar valuations are defended via monthly run-rate multiples, we are well past 1997. Wile E. Coyote has already left the cliff's edge; the only remaining question is when the market will finally trouble itself to look down.

Yours with cordial regards,

Pietro

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