Page 34 of Chaos Theory

THIRTY-TWO

Kobi runs a full systems check while we wait for Shane to return. The analysis confirms that all is in order, but Kobi seems disappointed in himself.

‘Maeve, I must apologise for my suboptimal performance. From a visual scan, the surface looked broad and open and flat. But the moment I set foot on it, countless tiny ridges confused my foot grip and I could not maintain balance.’

‘It’s okay, buddy,’ I reassure him. ‘I know you’re more used to factory floors. And this terrain is challenging, even for humans.’ Josh definitely overestimated Kobi’s mobility, or at least oversold it to me.

‘Shane returns,’ Kobi says.

We watch him park the car again, then get out and walk around to the boot. A moment later he’s walking towards us, pushing a wheelchair in front of him.

‘Well, what d’ye think?’ he calls out. ‘Kobi, your chariot awaits!’

With this, he pushes the chair towards us and it rolls off on its own, gathering momentum. Kobi and I hustle in opposite directions to get out of its way. It comes to a bumpy stop at the edge of the rocky Burren field.

‘Shane, what the…?’ is all I can think of to yell.

‘You’re welcome!’

‘How did you…? I mean, where did you…?’ There are so many questions, I’m having trouble prioritising one over another. ‘I mean…who owns that? And do they not need it?’

‘I also have questions,’ Kobi chimes in. ‘But I fear I already know the answers.’

‘Got it from the hotel,’ says Shane, triumph in his voice. ‘They were only delighted to lend it to me. They had it spare, lying around. We can bring it back whenever.’

By now he’s reunited with the wheelchair. He wheels it over to Kobi, handling it a bit more carefully this time. ‘So, will we take it for a test drive?’

I look at Kobi. I look at the Burren. I shrug for my answer.

‘At least give it a try,’ says Shane.

With some effort, I help him lower Kobi into the chair.

‘Hang on,’ says Shane.

‘Oh, what now?’ I say.

‘Just two seconds – I need to get something from the car.’

He runs the few yards back across the car park.

‘I wonder if he’s coming back,’ I say to Kobi.

‘He always comes back,’ says Kobi.

I turn away and push the chair – and Kobi – onto the bumpy Burren surface. It’s slow, but it works.

‘Well, what do you think?’ I ask him. ‘It’s a fairly basic chair. No bells or whistles. No electronics. One of us can push you for now. You might even learn how to spin the wheels yourself, in time.’

‘Wait up!’ Shane runs up behind us. He places a colourful chequered blanket across Kobi’s lap. ‘Just, you know, to keep the wind off you.’

‘Thank you,’ Kobi says, and we begin to make our way with dignity across the strange and beautiful terrain .

11:30am

I’m grateful for the robustness of the wheelchair as I wobble it, and Kobi, over rough earth and uphill towards the entrance to the Burren Open Farm.

I have to hand it to Shane – he’s good in a crisis. True, he’s also good at causing a crisis. But he did come up with an immediate – if unconventional – solution to the problem at hand. In fairness, he does seem to be trying his best to take care of Kobi.

I pause to nudge Shane and point to a small wooden structure with faded blue paint on top of the hill.

Shane silently takes over the steering of the wheelchair and I don’t protest. I’m sweating from the effort of getting Kobi this far.

It’s one of those unpredictable days, typical of an Irish autumn, when you wear a raincoat but end up roasting in breezy sunshine.

We bump our way up the hill. A few people gawp at us. Tourists who’ve probably come to the farm to get closer to nature are confronted with the strange sight of generations of technology compounded into one figure: the wheel, the mechanical chair, the high-tech robot.

I smile at the tourists as I adjust Kobi’s woollen blanket, until one of them points a camera in our direction. ‘Let’s try to find our host quickly, shall we?’ I say to Shane, remembering Josh’s request to keep a low profile on this trip.

‘Sure. What’s his name?’

I sigh. ‘I was putting off telling you this, but his name is Matthew Farmer.’

‘Matthew…?’

‘Yes.’

‘Farmer?’

‘Yes.’

‘And he’s the farmer?’

‘I assume so. He’s the owner, anyway. I imagine he does other things besides farming but…okay, yes, he’s the farmer. Go ahead, get all the jokes out of your system now before we meet him. ’

‘I’m not going to say anything,’ says Shane with a smile. Then in a lower voice, nodding towards Kobi: ‘It’s not me you should be warning, anyway.’

One benefit of Kobi being in the chair is that we can subtly talk about him behind his back. Or so we think.

‘May I offer two observations?’ Kobi turns his mechanical neck awkwardly.

Damn his supersonic hearing . ‘There is a long tradition of surnames that have arisen from trades – Smith being the most well-known example. See also Carpenter, Potter and, indeed, Farmer. There is also the psychological hypothesis of nominative determinism – the belief that people are drawn to professions that fit their names.’

‘Well, that’s the small talk sorted,’ I say.

Shane is navigating loose stones on the path. ‘Is he expecting us? I mean, all of us?’ He nods towards Kobi again.

‘Yes. I sent him a quick message yesterday. Apparently he’s really into technology.’

As I say this, the door of the wooden hut bangs open and a small girl-child races towards us, pigtails bobbing. ‘They’re here, they’re here!’ she sings.

‘Alert, alert!’ says Kobi.

It suddenly strikes me that Kobi probably hasn’t encountered many – if any – children up close. I stand in front of him protectively, uncertain whether I’m protecting him from the child, or the other way round.

‘It’s okay, Kobi. It’s just a child – a small human. Just treat her like any other human.’

A rumpled man in corduroy and brushed cotton emerges from the hut and strides towards us.

‘Lizzie!’ he calls. ‘Calm down!’

He soon outpaces the child, scooping her up in his arms without breaking step. She giggles, clearly enjoying the drama of it all.

‘Well!’ he greets us as the child writhes in his arms. He sets her down and she begins to skip circles around our delegation. ‘She never stops moving,’ he says, smiling at her.

‘You must be Matthew. I’m Maeve from Go Ireland, and these are the colleagues I told you about – Shane and Kobi. You can probably work out who’s who. We really appreciate you hosting us.’

‘Not at all.’ He looks at Kobi in the chair, eyebrows raised.

‘Fascinating. I’m very much looking forward to hearing all about ye.

It’s always great to have visitors, isn’t it, Lizzie?

That’s my daughter, as you probably guessed.

She’s very excited you’re here.’ He lowers his voice and leans in a little.

‘Her grandfather died recently, so all distractions are very welcome at the moment.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss,’ I say, a sudden weight in the pit of my stomach.

‘Thanks. We’re doing okay. Come on, we can have a bit of lunch first. My wife, Claire, is making spag bol. Then I’ll bring ye on a tour of the farm.’ He gestures for us to follow him up the hill.

As Matthew walks ahead, Shane turns to me with a grin and whispers, ‘His wife is Claire Farmer. The farmers from Clare.’

I slap him gently on the arm and mouth the words, ‘Be good.’