We're celebrating Irish Book Week (which runs 18th - 25th October) with a series of choice extracts from outstanding new Irish titles - read an extract from Sylvia Leatham's new novel Chaos Theory below.
Maeve McGettigan has just landed a job as Dublin's least prepared robot babysitter. One minute she's coasting through her boring marketing job; the next, she’s responsible for Kobi: a well-meaning robot assistant with zero filter and a knack for publicly humiliating her. As chaos erupts around her, Maeve finds herself unexpectedly caught between two very different men: Shane – her on-again, off-again messy situationship – and Josh, Kobi's nerdy-in-a-hot-way creator who makes her question everything she thought she wanted for her life. But then Maeve and Kobi’s story takes a truly shocking twist, and it’s suddenly time for her to decide: what – and who – is she really fighting for?
10am
'Maeve, I need to see you in my office right now.'
I roll my eyes and consider telling my boss’s boss that, unless someone has just invented the teleporter, right now is a physical impossibility. ‘Sure thing, JP,’ I say down the phone instead.
I begin the arduous journey from the second-floor open plan to the secluded top-floor offices, searching my mind for recent indiscretions. Could this be about my excessive personal use of the new multifunction printer? Maybe I left a copy of my résumé in the out-tray again? It’s just easier to spot typos in print. Or maybe JP’s twigged what I did on Monday morning: instead of arriving five minutes late for the all-staff meeting, I hid in the bathroom for a full hour, then skilfully merged with the crowd leaving the meeting, as if I’d been there all along.
I make my way to the elevator, squinting as harsh sunlight brightens the corridor, a feature of the building’s glass wall frontage. I can picture the architect in the pitch meeting, clicking through their slide deck with a flourish. Georgian brickwork meets contemporary office style at the heart of historic Dublin. Old meets new meets old.
I dutifully arrive at JP’s office, take a moment to enjoy the view over the park and the low-rise Dublin skyline beyond. JP unfolds himself like a spider preparing for lunch. Adjusts his glasses before looking at me.
‘Maeve. We need to talk.’
He nods at the chair in front of his messy, oversized desk. There’s probably a tree missing from the park below, felled specifically to cater for JP’s attachment to paper. He’s been known to print out emails.
‘What’s this about?’
I stay standing. The not knowing is starting to get to me.
‘Don’t worry, this isn’t a bad meeting. I have some interesting news. Sit down.’
I exhale and sit while JP taps the keyboard and peers at his laptop screen. True to form, the desktop printer by the window hums to life and another new page is born. So many offspring, such varied fates. Some to be cherished and homed in the filing cabinet. Others swaddled in an envelope and sent out into the world. The less fortunate balled and binned. The truly damned facing the guillotine or, worse, the shredder.
My eyes drift to a large posterboard propped up in the corner. It shows a line of hillwalkers enjoying an open green space in the Irish countryside. I’m walkin’ here! says the text below. The newly redesigned Go Ireland logo features prominently. It’s wilfully almost identical to the old logo. God knows how much it cost to redo.
JP rolls himself in his chair over to the printer, then with one push swings himself back behind his desk. ‘Robots,’ he says as he completes his orbit.
‘Robots?’ I echo.
‘Robots,’ he says. ‘Specifically, collaborative robots. What do you know about them?’
Unexpected, but at least I’m not getting fired. Unless… he plans to replace me with a robot? I decide to be noncommittal. ‘Um. Let me think.’
JP brings the printed page very close to his face and reads aloud, saving me from thinking.
‘Collaborative robots, aka cobots, are the "Next Big Thing" for the workplace.’ He makes air quotes with his pinkies while holding the paper. ‘Highly competent, artificially intelligent machines. They’re not intended to replace employees – they’re meant to work alongside them, like a helpful colleague on the production line, in the office or on the hospital ward.’
‘So, um… what’s that got to do with us?’ I ask. There was a rumour that the head of marketing – and my line manager – Duncan Canning had used AI to write the ad copy for the New York campaign, but Duncan was waiting until the success or failure of the campaign had been firmly established before confirming or denying the rumour.
‘Well’ – JP scans the page again – ‘an opportunity has come up. It looks like we are taking delivery of one… this afternoon.’
‘Really? Here? Today?’
‘Yes, yes and yes,’ says JP. ‘Believe me, I’m as surprised as you are. We’ve never had anything on this level here before. The new multifunction printer is about as good as it gets, am I right?’
I can’t tell if this is a trap. ‘Tell me more about this robot,’ I say quickly.
‘Well, you know how I play golf with Ron Tron, the CEO of RoboTron?’
Taking advantage of JP’s poor eyesight, I risk an eye roll. ‘You’ve mentioned it once or twice, yes.’
Ron Tron is one of the most famous names in tech. I’m pretty sure it’s a made-up name, but it made headlines when he decided to set up a research office for RoboTron in Dublin.
JP squint-skims the text. ‘It seems that one of their cutting-edge robots has been recalled from a factory deployment… And as there’s a bit of a gap in its schedule, as it were, Ron thinks we should take it for a while. Let’s see here – Ron’s assistant says Ron is eager to see how this, quote, "highly sophisticated automaton" might function in a, quote, "unstructured environment of low stakes".’ He slaps the page down on the desk. ‘You know what, the details are not that important right now. I think it’s a great opportunity.’
I’m miles away, wondering what JP and Ron Tron could possibly talk about on the golf course, given that JP’s as analogue as a wind-up radio. ‘Great opportunity,’ I parrot mindlessly.
‘I’m glad you agree, Maeve. Because I want you to take the lead on this one.’
‘I’m sorry, what?’
My neck twitches involuntarily with the realisation of what this conversation was building up to. He actually wants me to do something. But… I have one foot out the door. I’ve been pootling along for months, getting through my low-level marketing admin tasks while eyeing the exits. The only place I’m going is away from here.
‘I want you to take charge of supervising this robot, make sure we get’ – I see him parse the text for the right phrase – ‘maximum value from it.’
‘But surely this is more Jen’s area? She’s our head of IT, after all. I’m hardly qualified. And, you know, I’m very busy these days.’
He stares at me for such a long time that I’m unsure if he’s gone into one of those eyes-wide-open naps you hear about. Eventually his eyebrows start to rise. He knows. He knows I’m not too busy.
‘Jen is our head of IT, yes, but she’s also our only person in IT. And she’s not in today. You’ll appreciate that we’re in a bit of a tight spot, Maeve. This is all very last-minute, but I don’t want to let Ron down. Besides, Duncan tells me you have capacity. He says you could use a new challenge, in fact.’
Duncan found my résumé. Duncan found my résumé.
All I can do is sigh and cover it up with a smile.
‘That’s settled then. This email says all will be explained today when they bring in this, this…’ – JP unfolds the page and takes at least thirty seconds to find the information he needs – ‘this… Kobi.’
Chaos Theory is out now via Storm Publishing
