Page 52 of Chaos Theory
‘It must be interactive,’ says another.
A third person shouts, ‘Oh my God!’
Suddenly, I am surrounded by members of the red-dragon gang. They ask many questions. On the plus side, they are highly curious and interested in my every aspect. On the negative side, I am unable to process all the incoming data and respond in a timely manner.
A green-haired gang member says, ‘Hey, look, there’s buttons on the side.’
They reach out and attempt to interact with my control panel. I scan the area for Shane but fail to locate him.
‘Warning! Unauthorised activity,’ I state. This has the effect of pausing the incoming sounds but only for a moment. Then I hear laughter, and the dragon-gang voices increase to volume 8. I move away from Green Hair but cannot find how to exit the group.
I too turn my voice up to 8 and repeat, ‘Warning! Unauthorised activity.’
I hear voices around me say, ‘Ooooh!’ in response. Other voices repeat my warning in an exaggerated tone that I believe is intended to mimic me. I hear laughter, but it is not melodious like Maeve’s laugh. It is harsh, unpleasant.
I go into reverse mode. It is not a mode I generally favour as most of my cameras are located on my front. Somehow I instinctively know this action is called ‘retreat’.
My left foot encounters an unexpected object. I hear a cry behind me at volume 10: ‘Aiiiieeeee!’
I turn myself about to see Green Hair crouched on the floor. ‘My foot! I think it’s broken!’ they shout.
‘Don’t be so dramatic, Campbell!’ says another person.
I manoeuvre through the crowd. My foot grip loosens and I stumble into another person. They push me, shouting, ‘Get off me!’ But my balance is restored. Another says, ‘This is outrageous.Let’s get him.’
I move away as quickly as I can and manage to gain a little distance. I am most thankful when I see Shane, carrying all the tote bags. He says, ‘What’s going on?’
I consider attempting to summarise events, but I fear there is no time. Instead, I take a shortcut. ‘Existential crisis!’
He seems to understand on some level because he takes hold of my left arm. ‘Get ready to move,’ he says.
Then I find myself propelled through the exhibition hall and back toward the entrance. A security guard is sitting behind the reception desk.
‘Don’t stop!’ Shane says as we leave the building at high speed. ‘Don’t stop til we get back to the office.’
TWENTY-NINE
MAEVE
Tuesday, 2:30pm
I’m in a client meeting in the Tolka Room when my phone pings. I apologise to the client but can’t help glancing at the screen as I switch it to vibrate. A message from JP requests my presence in his office ‘A.S.A.P.’ But it can’t be that urgent if he’s taken the time to type out all those dots. I shove the device into my bag, put the bag on the floor.
I return my attention to the client, who’s eager for tourists to know that the Phoenix Park now has a regular bus service that not only circumnavigates Europe’s largest walled park but also drives right through it, at half-hour intervals. I pretend to be impressed with the park planners’ innovative vision for public access to a public amenity.Oh yes, I agree, it is truly unbelievable that a bus service had not been provided up to now. Truly.
As I say this, my bag begins vibrating at my feet. I apologise again and this time switch the phone fully off, just as an incoming call from Shane lights up the home screen. What does he want that can’t wait until I get back to my desk?
The meeting ends and I thank the client, assure them they willbe my number one priority for the next ten days, and laugh along in mild protest that no, of course I don’t say that to every client.
As I make my way to JP’s office, I’m debating whether to share with him an idea I’m working on for Kobi. Julia and Dave told me that Kobi is doing okay in customer relations. He’s good on the phone, although he still spends way too long on each call. I’m wondering if there’s a way to make the most of this. Many of our calls are from people who feel a connection to Ireland. Ireland is not just a holiday destination. For a lot of visitors, Ireland represents something. A connection to the past, their past. True, their ideas of old Ireland take a knock once they arrive and find a cup of coffee costs about the same as it does in Manhattan. But still, a lot of them have stories, family history passed down by parents or grandparents. Maybe Kobi could record these histories…
I enter JP’s office to find Shane and Kobi also here. I exhale as a sinking feeling draws me down like an undertow.
‘Oh, hi,’ I say, raising my eyebrows at Shane. But he won’t look at me.
JP is easier to read. Legs crossed, chair half-turned from the desk, glasses abandoned upside down amid a mess of paper. He pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s trying to staunch a nosebleed.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask. No one replies. I give Kobi an anxious once-over, but he seems fine.
