The next day began with the announcement that the long-awaited system upgrade had been installed overnight and station employees should expect to see some changes in the appearance and functionality of all computer operations. Training sessions were announced for that afternoon and over the next several days.
James had already been struggling with the new system for almost an hour by the time Lewis arrived and logged on.
Fifteen minutes later: "Oh, aye, this is much faster. I like that."
"But what happened to all the things I had on here? My bookmarks, history, cookies? I can't find anything!" Hathaway's frustration was clear.
Lewis blew his nose loudly. "Here, I'll show you what happened to the bookmarks. I just happened to find mine when I was trying to change the type size." He approached Hathaway's workstation, looking for all the world to James like an ambulatory germ factory.
"No! I mean, no thanks, I'll learn more if I figure it out myself."
"Ah, loosen up a little! Adaptability, Hathaway. It's what sets us apart from the animals. Except the rat. And the roach. And the virus."
"Well, you may see the roach as a standard to strive for, Sir, but I prefer loftier aspirations. And viruses aren't animals."
Lewis just smirked. "You know what you need, Hathaway? You need something unpredictable in your life. Having to raise a couple of kids does that pretty nicely. Know any you can borrow for a couple months?"
"Some people might argue that I'm too immature to raise children."
Lewis snorted at that, setting off a coughing fit that took him several minutes to control. "Hathaway, if anyone was ever prematurely middle-aged, it's you."
"Well, then, I'm too old to raise children."
"The thing is, Hathaway, your home life is too perfectly under control. No one moves your stuff, no one changes the television channel, no one eats that last piece of chicken you figured on for your dinner. That's an artificial little world, man. Chaos is normal.
"Fighting the forces of chaos is my personal challenge, and so far I'm winning."
The older man just shook his head. "I imagine that the thing that attracted you to this career path was the 'order' part of 'law and order,' as opposed to the fact that this is a high-risk profession, fraught with dangerous nutters at every turn."
"What's wrong with order?"
"It's unnatural. And it's boring. Chaos will win in the end. And only those who can deal with it calmly will survive."
"So apocalyptic, Sir."
Lewis blew his nose again. "Just concerned about your long-term survival, Sergeant."
"As I am about your short-term survival, Inspector."
* * *
That evening, Hathaway sat sipping his wine and considering Lewis's words. He wasn't that predictable, was he? He could be spontaneous, such as when they decided to go for a drink after work. And the work itself required spontaneity—calls could come in at any time, forcing him to drop whatever he was doing and go to the crime scene. After all, who needed to invite chaos? It came anyway. Intentionally breaking from an established routine that was working well was just asking for unnecessary complications. James was quite happy to live without those.
* * *