Page 64 of Reinventing Cato
“If you do that again, I’ll crash.”
Cato put his hand back on his own lap.
“Really think you can give up astrophysics?” Vigge glanced at him.
Cato sighed. “I don’t know. What I do is endlessly fascinating and there are always discoveries to be made, but… I really don’t know. My brother reckons I could work for a start-up company, a tech one that requires the calculation of complex mathematical probabilities. I mean, I can see using Bayesian models and Poincaré homology space doesn’t have to be restricted to general relativity, so…”
“And in English?”
“Sorry. It’s like me using a supercomputer to model the way the universe expands and galaxies collide into one another, then turning that into producing recommendation algorithms and data models for industry. Machine learning. We teach computers how to do tasks based on examples. So if a computer recognises something in one place, it can look in millions of others and make predictions about what might be found. Same principle can be applied to what people might choose to buy or watch on TV.”
“So instead of looking at stars you’d be predicting what someone might watch on TV or what colours might be in fashion next season?”
“Or the chances of someone developing a particular disease or the need for certain food stuffs in specific countries. But there are few certainties in life. We want to understand everything, but each astrophysics mystery we think we solve, just reveals another.”
“That’s not like my job. When someone’s sent to prison for a crime, that’s our work done.”
“Assuming the person is guilty. And when they’re released, what do they do? And if they’re not released, what do they do? And what about the effect on victims and their families? There’s always something more.”
“Well, that was a fun way to spend the journey home.” Vigge glanced at him and laughed.
“I apologise for being a nerd.”
“I should think so.”
“But I did put my hand on your neck and lap to distract you.”
Vigge pulled into his drive and parked next to Cato’s sunshine car. “You did. I kept losing track of our conversation.”
Cato smacked his lips. “All I can think about is homemade soup and bread. It’s been the only thing on my mind since you told me what was for lunch. I’m desperate for it now. Aren’t you? To open my mouth and put all that deliciousness inside. Yum.”
Vigge gave a quiet groan. They got out of the car and headed for the house.
“Is this place yours?” Cato asked.
“Rented. I’ve moved around with my job. I’ve been here two years.” Vigge opened the door and stood back to let Cato go inside.
He’d spent this morning cleaning and tidying the whole of downstairs and his bedroom and bathroom. He wasn’t untidy, but he’d never asked anyone back here before, so places had been dusted that didn’t usually get dusted, surfaces wiped and the sheets changed. His heart thumped at the thought of what would happen sooner or later. He half-hoped for sooner but he was treading a razor edge between taking things slowly and just letting events unfold, or leaping on temptation right now before he did something stupid and Cato left.
Cato followed him through to the airy room running across the back of the house where Vigge spent most of his time, unless he was in bed or working in the second bedroom that served as his office.
“You have a telescope?” Cato gaped at him.
It sat at the side of the settee.
“It probably looks like a toy compared to the ones you use.” Though it had cost him several hundred pounds.
“You’ll probably be surprised to hear that I don’t look through telescopes very often. I spend most of my time staring at a computer screen.” Cato walked over to it. “This is pretty good. Can you see the moon through it?”
Vigge chuckled. “Just about.”
“I bet the night skies are brilliant around here because there’s so little ambient light.”
“They can be pretty good. It’s butternut squash soup. Is that okay?”
“Lovely.”
Vigge heated it up and took out bowls and spoons as he watched Cato look round, checking out the pile of paperbacks next to the couch, staring out of the window into the garden, and running his gaze over the pictures he had on the wall. Cato gave a quiet chuckle when he saw one of Vigge’s violins leaning against the bookcase.
