Page 7 of Chaos Theory
‘Good morning, Maeve. How can I help you today?’ Kobi says as soon as I’ve powered him up.
Josh installed Kobi’s temporary sleep pod here in the Liffey Room on Friday, walking me through the robot’s various sleep modes and battery settings. He maintained that at least this element of robot babysitting is straightforward.
A slight movement in Kobi’s head and neck gives me the impression he’s scanning me from head to toe. Which is confirmed when he announces, ‘Maeve, you appear to be tired and somewhat anxious. Also, you are ovulating.’
I spit out my peppermint tea. I find a napkin and dab at my face, searching for an appropriate response. ‘That’s…uh…that’s a funny thing to say, Kobi.’
But this only triggers a loud, robotic laugh.
‘Kobi! Let’s settle you down. Oh God, maybe I need to adjust your settings already.’
I eye a small control panel on the robot’s lower left side. There was a diagram of it in the paperwork Josh gave me. A gushing paragraph about an intuitive user interface.
Kobi moves back two paces and lowers his voice. ‘Josh will be disappointed if he hears my settings were adjusted within my first hour on the job. I am sorry if I have spoken incorrectly. Please, forgive me.’
I sigh. ‘It is your first day, I suppose. A big day for both of us.’
Maybe we both need time to adjust. I decide to be breezy.
‘Okay, well, JP wants me to present you to the rest of the staff at our team meeting this morning. It’ll be a chance for you to meet everyone. I’ll bring you over there now.’
As we make our way to the Shannon Suite, I give a version of the same speech Shane and I heard on our first day here. The Go Ireland organisation is an administrative and governance hub for tourism agencies and related service providers across Ireland. It also provides tourist information – online and over the phone – and houses a small gift shop.
The gift shop is on the ground floor, with public access. The five floors above contain staff offices and meeting rooms. The staff café is in the basement. Tourists sometimes try to access this café, and we have to explain to them that they’re not welcome. There’s a big museum next door, we tell them, with a much nicer café. And a lovely park outside.
In the Shannon Suite, I settle Kobi in near the top of the room and watch as my colleagues arrive one by one for the all-staff meeting. No sign of Shane yet. He’s invariably late for these meetings, of course, but by now he’s mastered the art of opening and closing the door without making a sound, so his late arrival usually goes unnoticed by the short-sighted JP. The trick, Shane says, is to place both hands on the door and use your full body weight to lean in slowly for a gradual opening; once inside, immediately turn round and grab the door by the handle with both hands, but – and this bit is key – resist the temptation to push the door closed quickly. Your patience will be rewarded by a gentle, satisfied sigh as the door returns home to the loving embrace of the door frame.
Two Mondays ago, when Shane was halfway through his ‘ninja stealth door manoeuvre’, Imelda from accounts tried to enter theroom. Her elaborately made-up face appeared in the closing gap of the heavy wooden door, painted eyebrows arching up in panic. Shane had refused to let her in, simply shaking his head repeatedly at her as he continued his door delivery with midwife-level devotion. The second he released the door, he nimbly sidestepped away and slid into the nearest chair at the back of the room, stretching out his legs and slumping his shoulders. When Imelda punched the door open a moment later, everyone – including Shane – turned around to see who dared to be late for the meeting. Imelda fumbled her way to a seat, almost tripping over Shane’s legs in the process.
To my surprise, at 8:59am, Shane stumbles in, rumpled and sleepy-eyed. He gives me an encouraging nod and a smile. At 9am on the dot, JP makes his way to the top of the room and gives a long, rambling introduction about ‘the future’ and ‘embracing innovation’ – most of which he reads off printed-out pages, naturally. Eventually he calls on me and Kobi to come up.
‘Thank you, JP.’ I address the room. ‘Well, I don’t think I need any slides for my presentation today, do I?’ I gesture towards Kobi beside me, wait for a response to this little joke. When none comes, I clear my throat and continue.Tough crowd.
I’m suddenly nervous, so I read my few prepared bullet points from my phone. ‘Today I want to introduce you to our new colleague, Kobi. We’d appreciate it if you’d give him the warm welcome that Go Ireland is known for. Kobi is a collaborative robot. He was designed primarily for use on factory floors. But a gap in his schedule of assignments has opened up, and we’ve been offered a wonderful opportunity to enjoy the benefits of Kobi’s presence for the next while. During this time, he’ll be observing what we do here while developing his interpersonal skills, so please do interact with Kobi as much as you can. He learns from every encounter.’
I go on to talk about RoboTron, give some details on Kobi’s processing capabilities and advanced systems. Then I turn to my robot companion. ‘Kobi, would you like to say a few words?’
I watch in fascination as Kobi adjusts his facial features. His eyes grow bigger and rounder; his mouth shapes itself into a sort of smile. ‘Thank you for welcoming me here. I look forward to working with you all. I will learn so much here.’
Dave from customer relations raises his hand. Dave wears short sleeves year-round. He says it’s because he doesn’t feel the cold, but I suspect it’s to show off his many tattoos. He’s a fourth-generation Dubliner and never tires of reminding people that he is ‘the original and the best’. When I first met him, I pointed out that he’d taken this phrase from an old TV commercial for crackers. ‘Exactly, Maeve. Exactly,’ he’d said.
Now he says, ‘Eh, can I ask a question?’
Kobi bows slightly and says, ‘Clearly, you can.’
‘Yeah, cool. Eh, just wondering…are you going to be, like, spying on us? I’ve read about these military robots – they have stealth cameras that can record things miles away.’
Kobi does his robot laugh, which unfortunately has an unsettling effect. ‘I will not be spying.’
Dave’s desk mate Julia – pretty, effortlessly stylish – speaks up. ‘But youwillbe observing us. Maeve just said that.’
I go to answer, but Kobi has already started speaking. ‘Yes. My observation skills are excellent.’
Dave again. ‘I’ve read about these workplace robots. Supposed to make things more efficient. They’re really there to makepeoplemore efficient. Monitoring their bathroom breaks, not letting them have lunch. Then they start replacing people altogether.’
Julia: ‘We’re not allowed to have lunch now?’
I rush to answer. ‘Of course we’re still having lunch! In fact, lunchtime would be a great time for Kobi to observe…I mean, to interact…I mean, to have lunch with you.’
