Bridget handed him the top form. Typed across the top of the page in bright green font were the words, ‘GREETINGS EARTHLINGS!’
He stood up, glancing at his watch. ‘On second thoughts, I think we’d better relocate this meeting to the Tav.’
Bridget’s eyes lit up.
Cooper grabbed his jacket and rucksack, a discreet glance reassuring him that his expanding heart wasn’t glowing through his shirt.
Bridget was his oldest friend, and he was happy they’d reconnected, of course he felt good about it. It was only natural for his bloodstream to buzz at the prospect of working with a colleague he respected and trusted again. He was revisiting one of his favourite haunts from the best days of his life, so he was bound to have a spring in his step.
All perfectly natural responses from a neuroscientific point of view.
So. Yeah. He was doing better, relearning how to be friends – and colleagues – with Dr Bridget Donovan. And he was sure (almost sure) that soon enough his heart would get on board with the programme.
* * *
Two hours later, while he was finishing off the remains of the Tav’s legendary mac ’n’ cheese, Cooper’s phone buzzed:
Compatibility project update 2.30
‘Great.’ He showed Bridget the message. She immediately checked her phone.
‘Well, sometimes it pays to be discriminated against. You can enjoy updating the good professor while I check in on how my cells are doing.’
‘I don’t think so. This is your baby, you’re coming with me.’
Bridget grimaced ‘Ugh! If this is my baby, that makes Cole the father!’
Cooper raised his eyebrows in alarm. ‘Foster baby! You had nothing to do with its conception. I witnessed the hideous event in all its glory, remember?’
An older couple at the next table gaped, not even pretending not to listen.
That caused her to smile, which was of course, as always, the goal.
‘How could I forget?’ She leant towards the couple and lowered her voice conspiratorially. ‘Him and a couple of hundred other people, laughing and heckling. Taking photographs! Shouting suggestions!’ She shook her head in mock disgust as Cooper grabbed the folder of applications from the table and bundled her out of the pub.
* * *
They weren’t laughing when, twenty minutes later, they sat, backs rigid, facing Cole across his enormous desk.
‘You’ve had seven applications? In three weeks?’ He swivelled his beady gaze from Cooper to Bridget and back again. Cooper could sense Bridget trying to force her breathing to remain steady. The red flush that always appeared when she felt upset had begun creeping up her neck.
‘To be honest, Professor, I’m surprised we’ve received that many. This is an extreme piece of research,’ Cooper replied, working hard to keep his tone professional.
‘And yet Lavinski managed to get tens of thousands, even knowing the whole spectacle would be broadcast on national television.’
‘I think that’swhyshe got so many,’ Bridget said.
‘Demographic?’ Cole barked, ignoring her.
‘Six men, one woman. The men range from thirty-six to eighty-four. The woman is thirty-seven.’
‘Well, one woman is all you need. Looking for a mate before her eggs dry up. She’ll stick with it long enough to become impregnated, and he’ll be happy as long as she keeps providing intercourse. Pick the nearest match using the compatibility test, make sure he’s young enough to seem reasonably fertile and move to phase two.’
‘What the hell?’ Bridget barked.
‘With all due respect, Professor,’ Cooper said at the same time.
Cole raised one eyebrow at Cooper to indicate he continue.
