Page 22 of Chaos Theory

TWENTY-TWO

I’m waiting for Josh outside the almost-hidden entrance to the newly refurbed Irish Viking Museum on the other side of the city.

They’ve just spent two million euro revamping it – none of which went on signage, apparently.

Duncan Canning wanted a volunteer to act as a ‘secret shopper’, to see if the museum should go on our ‘highly recommended’ list for tourists.

I put my hand up. No harm trying to keep on Duncan’s good side while I’m getting to grips with The Kobi Project.

Jen said she’d keep an eye on Kobi while I was out.

I left the two of them chatting away in her office.

‘You should’ve seen Trish’s face when she saw Kobi’s painting,’ he said. ‘Gas craic altogether. And then when he said that our paintings should replace hers on the wall. Classic. Fair play, Kobi. Fair play. ’

Afterwards I emailed Josh a summary of events, writing ‘minor triumph’ in the subject line, and he replied right away. We agreed he’d meet me here to get the latest on Kobi while I had a look around the museum. Two birds, one stone. Ancient Irish stone, in this case.

Now, I take out my phone to message Josh to call me if he can’t find the entrance. But halfway through the message I hear, ‘Hey there!’ and he’s suddenly right in front of me. He’s wearing an open-neck cotton shirt in a soft colour. He looks good against the grey stone wall of the museum.

‘You found it,’ I say redundantly, smiling up at him.

He returns my smile. ‘Maeve, I’ve been to this museum, like, four times.’

‘Really?’

I lead him through the entrance – glass doors embedded into the wall of a restored medieval ruin, a rusted portcullis above our heads. The inner foyer is dark and cool. It’s a small space and we have to cluster together. Josh smells good through the gloom.

‘Yes. I love it. You have to stop thinking of me as a tourist, Maeve. I’ve lived in Ireland for three years.’

‘But this is a tourist museum. The fact that you’ve been here four times only makes you more of a tourist.’ I turn my face away so he can’t see my smile. ‘I, on the other hand, have never been here before.’

‘Does it make me a tourist or does it maybe make me a history buff? Come on, let me show you around.’

I laugh and follow him up dark stone steps, ducking my head instinctively and holding onto the metal rail.

The history of the Norwegian warriors who sailed to Dublin over a thousand years ago is laid out in a series of small, dimly lit rooms, with real Viking artefacts in glass cases and fake ones on plinths you can interact with.

I pick up a wooden axe. Josh lifts a heavy-looking sword and traces the ‘bloodline’ down the centre of it.

The groove is intended to accelerate your enemy’s blood flow from their body, he tells me with a grin.

Eventually the small rooms give way to a larger space, housing a full replica of a Viking longboat.

‘Did you know,’ says Josh, ‘they buried Viking warrior kings in boats?’

‘With all their treasured possessions and favourite things, yes.’

‘Not just things.’

He directs me to read the small print on the wall next to the boat. A servant was often buried with their Viking master at the time of the master’s funeral. Which became the time of the servant’s funeral too. In other words, human sacrifices were made.

‘This is really dark,’ I say.

‘Yeah, it’s pretty hardcore.’

There’s a whole section on slavery. How Dublin was a major trading post for slaves a thousand years ago.

A slave auction scene is recreated with human-sized models.

A child, head bowed, hands bound with rope, her chain held by a fair-haired Viking trader.

A tourist takes a selfie in front of the scene. I look at Josh, appalled.

‘Every city was built on blood,’ he says. ‘The price of progress, I guess. Let’s keep going. There’s a round tower we can climb.’

We’re directed to the round tower by the pointing figure of a monk. I startle until I realise it’s just a mannequin with an actor’s face projected onto it. The monk explains that the round tower is not Viking but a religious structure from the 1600s that’s been incorporated into the museum.

The spiralling stone steps of the tower are so narrow we have to go single file. Josh gestures for me to go ahead of him.

‘Did you know St Patrick was a slave?’ His voice bounces off the walls.

‘Josh, you’re not going to explain St Patrick to me, are you? This is way worse than mansplaining. Pat-splaining is where I draw the line.’

His big laugh bounces off the stones around us and fills my ears. I suddenly stop and he almost crashes into me. I spin around to face him. ‘Wait a minute.’

‘What? ’

We’re eye to eye, thanks to my two-step advantage.

I look him up and down. Tall, blonde, fair skin, strong jaw.

‘Are you a Viking? Is that why you come here so often and know so much?’

He just laughs at me. ‘I have no idea. I might have some Scottish blood in me somewhere, so I guess it’s possible, because the Vikings went to Scotland too.

But far, far more likely for you to be a Viking than me.

The Vikings married into Irish families, right?

Went from raiders to traders, became peaceful profiteers.

And nothing makes peace like a wedding. We Americans didn’t invent capitalism, you know. ’

A memory floats back to me. Of course I know some Irish history; you have to in this business.

It’s just that Ireland has such a lot of history, it’s hard to keep on top of it all.

I do know that before the Vikings came, and later on the English too, Ireland had its own ancient system of law, called Brehon.

Women could own land, get an education, become a doctor, choose who they married, and get divorced if it didn’t work out.

But all that changed under the twin hammers of English law and the Catholic Church.

Progress is not inherently good, I remind myself.

Out of breath after ninety-odd steps, we emerge at the top of the tower onto a small viewing platform.

The whole city lies beneath us. This ancient town that’s constantly reinventing itself.

Everywhere I look I see the yellow cranes of development, building vertically into tiny spaces.

The city so small that the only place to go is up.

Hotel after hotel squeezing into every vacant lot.

Soaring rents making city living almost impossible.

I’m grateful for my compact nook in the city’s inner suburb.

But from up here, it all looks like a board game laid out for my amusement.

Josh notices my silence. ‘What’s on your mind?’ he asks.

He stands next to me, wraps his large fingers around the rail. A weak October sun turns his hair golden.

‘The future,’ I say, playfully.

He leans his elbows on the rail and smiles.

‘And here I was thinking you were going to say “the past”. ’

‘I have to admit, I’m surprised that you’re so into history,’ I say. ‘I kind of assumed…’

We watch a seagull swoop down between buildings to settle on the river below us. My phone buzzes. I sneak a look at the screen, see a message from Shane: Pints later? I ignore it.

‘What? Because I make robots, I can’t have other interests?’

‘More that…you don’t like to dwell on the past.’

He laughs lightly. ‘Well, that’s true when it comes to my personal life, I suppose. The one thing about the past is – you can’t change it. But you can learn from it. That’s why I love museums.’

He turns his back to the view to face me. ‘So tell me about this future you were thinking of just now.’

Maybe the air is thinner up here. Or maybe Josh’s confidence is starting to rub off on me. ‘I just feel like…a whole new world might be opening up. And I think I might want to be a part of it.’

‘That’s exactly how I feel!’ He throws his arms out. I jump a little at his sudden enthusiasm. ‘And if things go well with Kobi, you can be a part of it.’

I laugh, drawn in by his excitement. ‘I do feel like I’m starting to make a little bit of progress with him.’

‘There you go then!’

‘As a matter of fact, Jen mentioned that there’s a big AI conference on in a few weeks’ time.

Professor Mimi Lee is one of the speakers.

Are you going, by any chance? It’s in Athlone, the Athens of Ireland.

’ I know he probably won’t get this little joke about the unassuming Irish Midlands town, but I can’t help myself.

‘I don’t know who that is and I hadn’t heard about the conference,’ he says. ‘But I’ve always wanted to visit Athens. I’m open to going, if you think it sounds worthwhile.’

‘Maybe cage your expectations,’ I say with a laugh. ‘But there’s a whole lot of interesting topics on the agenda: ethics, privacy, bias, neuro-rights.’ I’ve been doing my reading.

‘I’m impressed,’ he says. ‘We do need people like you in the industry, asking questions. I’m not that person. I just make the robots. But people like you?— ’

‘Don’t say “people like you”,’ I interrupt.

‘Fair enough. It’s just’ – he turns to gaze out at the city skyline again – ‘I can’t make any promises, but we could probably use someone like you at RoboTron.’

I’m giddy, and not just because of our dizzying height on this windy platform. I try to ground myself, act casual. But I feel emboldened.

‘Actually, now I will speak of the past,’ I say, smiling. ‘I have another idea to help us figure out how Kobi might fit in.’