Page 4 of Chaos Theory

FOUR

‘Jen!’ I throw my bag down on the seat opposite her in the half-empty carriage. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you on the early train.’

‘I could say the same about you, mate.’ She smiles at me as she removes her earbuds. She looks tired, her eyes puffy behind her tortoiseshell-framed glasses.

‘What are you listening to?’ I ask.

She pats her bump. ‘Podcast. Relax, It’s Only a Baby .’

‘Any good?’

‘Not bad. It’s only patronising about fifty per cent of the time. Most of the pregnancy books are around seventy-five per cent schoolteacher vibes.’

I laugh. Jen Mason is probably the closest thing I have to a friend at Go Ireland – apart from Shane, who I refuse to put into any category.

It’s not that it’s hard for me to make friends.

I’ve had so many different jobs and lived in so many places – some might say I collect friends like stamps in a passport.

Which, I’m starting to suspect, is not necessarily a good thing.

I don’t know Jen that well, but we live along the same train line so we often chat on the commute.

Like many Australians, she’s both forthcoming and informal, so I know several intimate details about her.

Such as, she used a sperm donor that she and her wife chose from a catalogue.

She has a half-sister in Australia who she misses terribly. She uses body lotion on her face.

‘So, there was some robot excitement at the office on Friday?’ she asks. I emailed her a summary of events late Friday afternoon, punctuated with exclamation points, crying-laughing emojis and disappearing-into-a-bush GIFs. ‘You know, this could be a golden opportunity for you.’

I search her face for signs of her customary dry sarcasm but find none. ‘Really?’

‘You’ve been saying you wanted to do something different, right? Something new?’

I have been saying that, but Jen doesn’t know me well enough to know that I also just get like this.

Itchy feet. That urge . Some people call it the spirit of adventure.

Dad said I tried on jobs like they were coats.

English language teacher. Yoga instructor.

Bicycle repair person. Marketing executive.

But it’s not like philosophy graduates go on to become philosophers.

‘New is good…’ I say to Jen.

‘Right, so Robot Relationship Management, as it’s called, is a thing – or soon will be. It’s already massive in South Korea and it’s making its way here. Remember that conference I dragged you along to? “Robots in the Workplace”?’

‘I remember the snacks were high quality.’

‘Well, that was no accident. This is a new industry. Lots of money floating around. Yeah, it’s still unclear what exactly it’s all about, but it seems to be an optimistic mishmash of robotics, human resources and workplace psychology.

They need someone to make sure humans and robots can work together in harmony.

’ She takes a perfectly green apple out of her bag and crunches into it before continuing.

‘From what I can make out, this RoboTron robot sounds juicy.’

‘Juicy?’ For a second I wonder if she’s just describing the fruit she’s eating .

‘How many people are working with robots right now? And not just any robot. Not like those automated checkout robots that can’t tell the difference between a red pepper and a child’s hand. Or one of those cleaner-bots they have in hospitals. Or a server bot bringing you pad Thai in a restaurant.’

‘This really sounds more like your thing than my thing. Couldn’t you’ – I hear my voice turn pleading – ‘take it off my hands? I’m sure if you’d been in on Friday, JP would have called you in on it.’

She produces a packet of rice cakes, holds it out to me. I shake my head.

‘Ordinarily, I’d be all over this like a rash, yeah.

But the reason I wasn’t in on Friday is the same reason I can’t get involved.

Had to see the doc about my high blood pressure.

’ She places one hand on her bump. ‘Doc says I need to avoid stress if I want to give this little parasitic bundle of joy the best chance. But don’t worry, you’ll do fine.

These machines are so advanced. Honestly, I’ve heard it’s almost like babysitting. ’

I consider pointing out that if it’s so easy, maybe she could be the one to lead The Kobi Project, and wouldn’t some practice at babysitting be good for an expectant mother?

But I don’t. Because I know several other things about Jen Mason.

Like how hard she works. Not only is she the head of IT, she’s the only person working in IT, catering to the needs of thirty-odd staff.

Some more odd than others. She remembers everyone’s birthday and sends them a personalised e-card on the day, which she takes great pains to design. She’s going to be a great mother.

‘I’ll help out whenever I can,’ she says. ‘Why don’t you bring it down my office today and we’ll have a chat? Meanwhile, and maybe more importantly, I want to know what you got up to at the weekend. Any dates?’

Like many people who have been in happy relationships for years, Jen takes an enthusiastic interest in the love life of singles.

She likes to get detailed reports on my latest dating disasters.

She’s taken to calling our Monday morning catch-up ‘match highlights’, like it’s a game she missed at the weekend.

‘None this weekend. To be honest I was too tired after…Thursday.’ My history of Shane hookups is one of those open secrets.

There’s an unspoken, collective agreement at the office that we don’t talk about it, so that we can all continue to work together with minimal awkwardness.

Jen has been known to break the agreement, however, so I try to steer her away from the topic.

I need to offer her something as a distraction.

‘I didn’t go out on any dates…but I did get a chance to finalise my Dating Formula,’ I tell her, hoping she’ll take the bait.

‘That sounds romantic,’ she says, spreading hummus on a rice cake.

‘I think you’ll agree I kind of need it.

It helps me figure out if I should keep seeing someone or not.

You know how messy it is out there.’ I gesture towards the train window just as another train hurtles past us on the opposing track.

I switch into pretend-lawyer mode to make my case.

‘Let’s consider my last three dates. There was the guy who fell asleep within the first half hour – he claimed exhaustion from work but it was hard to get past that.

Then there was the guy who called his car his “girlfriend”.

And the guy who called his games console “she who must be obeyed”. ’

Jen laughs. ‘Fair enough. Okay, hit me with this formula.’

I take a deep breath. ‘Okay, here goes. I call it CCSS. It stands for Conversation – Chemistry – Sense of humour – Safety.’

‘CCSS,’ she repeats, like she’s mulling it over.

‘Yep, if any one of those elements is missing from a first date, it won’t work out. You might as well call time of death right there and then.’

‘Okay, let’s see,’ she says. ‘Conversation – can you have the chats together? Okay, fair. Chemistry – that’s a good one. Sense of humour – a classic, an essential. What do you mean by “safety” though?’

‘Hard to put into words exactly. I just mean fundamentally safe, physically and mentally. They won’t murder you in your sleep, et cetera.’

‘I feel like that last one is a pretty low bar?’

‘You’d be surprised,’ I say.

The train chugs to a stop as we reach our destination.

‘Wait a minute,’ says Jen. ‘Don’t you already have those four elements with Shane?’

I pretend not to hear her over the automated announcement that tells us, ‘This train will now terminate.’ I jump up from my seat, busy myself gathering up Jen’s things. I need to focus on the day ahead.