Page 8 of Chaos Theory

EIGHT

Noon

Help, I need you. Meet me under the Big Tree.

I hit send on the message to Shane and smile reassuringly at Kobi. Then quickly type a follow-up message.

There might be something wrong with Kobi.

I’m trudging around the little park in front of the building. On brighter days this is my favourite place to have lunch. Today it feels like a refuge. A chestnut tree shivers its leaves at us, the first tinge of brown at the edges.

I look over at my silent companion. Maybe he’s nervous? Here he is, a multimillion-dollar advanced AI system designed to make workplaces more efficient, taking a meditative stroll around a park. Somewhere, an accountant is breaking out in a fever, their sixth sense tingling at my profligate ways.

I consider going to JP or calling Josh. I try to imagine how the conversation will go.

Can you please just take away this walking, talking trash can?

We don’t want him , I could say . But I know what will happen.

JP will insist Kobi stays. And if I can’t cope with it, JP will make Jen take over.

Jen, who already has a lot going on. Jen, who’s not supposed to have any stress…

If only I could keep Kobi away from the rest of the staff, at least until I can figure out how to improve his actions and interactions.

Standing under the Big Tree in the park, I flush with relief the moment I see Shane confidently striding towards me.

There’s another feeling too – a little pang of excitement.

Has Shane gotten better looking recently?

He’s always had a mischievous grin and the muscle tone of someone who plays hurling twice a week – but does he seem taller these days?

The mathematical part of my brain removes its glasses, leans forward and postulates a theory: objects that are closer appear larger.

Am I getting in the habit of standing too close to Shane?

Gazing up at him so he fills my field of vision?

He approaches me with a smirk and a glint in his eye. ‘Well, where’s the emergency?’

‘Kobi, I urgently need to talk to my colleague about a private matter. Do you have a non-listening mode you can adopt?’

‘No, I am programmed to always listen,’ says Kobi. ‘But if you like, I can face the tree and pretend not to listen. Would that help?’

‘It’ll have to do, I suppose. I’ll just step over here a little bit.’

I take Shane by the arm and walk him ten feet away from where Kobi is now standing, his robotic face very close to the trunk of the Big Tree.

Then I let out a long exhale and shake my hands as if they’re wet and I can’t find a towel.

I speak quickly but quietly. ‘I think I might be out of my depth.’

‘It’s going to be okay. What’s up with your robot BFF?’ He’s still smiling at me. It’s both attractive and maddening.

‘Don’t make fun of me right now, Shane. I think I might have been sold a pup. It all just seems a bit…wrong somehow.’

I lower my voice further, training my eyes on Kobi, who is now extending his robot arms and – is he?

– yes, he is now apparently attempting to hug the tree.

‘He’s supposed to be this state-of-the-art robot, right?

Supposed to get along with humans, help us do our jobs better?

But this morning has been more like bringing a puppy to work that pees everywhere, then poops in your boss’s lunchbox.

I don’t know how he’s ever going to fit in.

’ I can feel the panic rising in my chest. ‘He’s supposed to meet HR this afternoon – God knows how that’ll go.

He’ll probably recommend that we all be terminated. ’

Shane raises an eyebrow.

‘Terminated from our jobs, I mean, not terminated from…our lives.’ I eye Kobi warily. He looks peaceful enough hugging the tree, like a robot hippie.

‘Come on, Maeve, it can’t be that bad. You’re smart – you can figure it out. Just…tell me what you need. What can I do to help?’

‘I need time, Shane – time to do some research, learn how he works. I can maybe try and adjust his settings. And I need to keep him away from the other staff during that time.’ Time is all I need, apparently. Time and expertise and skills and…

‘Okay, listen, I’m on gift shop duty all week.’

The gift shop is one of Go Ireland’s quirks.

All staff – apart from very senior management – have to do a stint in the shop in rotation.

There’s not quite enough work to justify it being a full-time job, and it saves them from having to pay someone properly to do it.

So we all take turns, and moan about it endlessly.

‘Why don’t I take him in there with me?’ says Shane. ‘You know we don’t get that many customers, and the ones we do – well, we can just say he’s some weird Irish experiment or something. Lost in translation. Be grand.’

I exhale, resist the urge to hug him with relief. ‘I suppose he could meet HR tomorrow instead. Okay – thank you, thank you, thank you. You’re a genius.’

‘I know sure.’

It’s something. It’s a start.