The Whale Song Translation: A Voyage of Discovery To Neptune and Beyond

by Howard Steven Pines

  Dmitri felt a teacher’s sense of pride. “I agree, and I couldn’t have stated it more eloquently.” Seema’s big smile pleased him. “But,” he shook his index finger, “we have to proceed carefully. There’s going to be major resistance to the implications of our proposed discovery.”

  “Think about the public reaction,” said Greg. “The confirmation of the game hypothesis could be viewed as a grave threat to belief systems that advocate the primacy of our species.”

  “Like Creationists and Luddites,” Andrew nodded.

  Dmitri sighed. “It’s not only the conservatives and fundamentalists. Don’t underestimate the pushback from rational institutions, maybe even here at SoCalSci.”

  Dmitri’s comment momentarily stifled the conversation, reminding them of the events three years earlier when McPinsky had vacated the premises in a torrent of controversy.

  Spelvin cleared his throat. “Right, we can’t jump the gun just yet, Dmitri. We’d be crawling out on a very thin limb to publish this ‘game’ hypothesis so soon. I’d like to see more occurrences of this data profile in other recordings before submitting it to an external review.”

  “Joel, I agree,” replied Dmitri. “Let’s take a twofold approach. Initially, I’ll contact Gorman at PICES and ask for more humpback recordings. Since our discovery is linked to the Maui population, let’s restrict our investigation to the Maui song data and to Alaskan recordings during the winter feeding cycle. At the right moment, we’ll inform Gorman we’ve identified unique acoustic patterns which could be interpreted as linguistic symbols and request his assistance for experimental confirmation. We’d need PICES collaboration to provide and outfit a vessel to conduct the experiment in Hawaiian waters. Let’s not be too specific about the nature of the data, though—that it’s likely a game. We don’t want to give them any reason to think they’d be participating in a wild goose chase.”

  “What about the software and equipment?” inquired Greg.

  “Like I said, we’ll pack a workstation for the real-time Speakeasy analysis and two or three laptops for other functions. Until now, we’ve used Melanie’s proprietary version here in the lab. Now that we’re progressing into a more public domain of research, I want Andrew and Seema to code our own generic version of Speakeasy.”

  “That’s a heck of a tough task for such a short time frame, boss.”

  “Our version can be greatly simplified,” he said, trying to convey reassurance. “The primary requirement is a Fourier frequency analysis and a center frequency calculation of the two primary resonance peaks. We don’t need all of the other phoneme-specific tasks for identifying consonants and vowels.”

  “Got it,” replied Andrew. “For my thesis work, I’m using a graphics routine that plots both two- and three-dimensional data, so I’ll port that over to our new Speakeasy system to work in either 2D or 3D coordinates.”

  “Thanks, Andrew. What about you, Seema? Can you develop a simple synthesizer program that generates the acoustic version of the circular symbols, given any two input frequencies?”

  “Absolutely, and to be consistent with Andrew’s interface, mine will also accept and generate 2D or 3D data. I’ll prototype it using Matlab and then translate the source code to a C++ app.”

  “Sounds good. Oh, Andrew, let’s also incorporate Joel’s correlation-analysis codes into your version of Speakeasy so that—”

  “—so that we can instantaneously assess the correlation of each new symbol to the previous one to confirm that they’re actually playing a game. I’m with you, boss.”

  “Dmitri, you lucky dog,” said Greg. “I wish I had the same rapport with my grad students. But I bet yours don’t know you’ve fabricated this entire project so you can get back to Maui to see your new girlfriend.”

  Despite the glances between Andrew and Seema, Dmitri looked at Greg with an unusually peaceful smile. “Actually, Melanie could be quite useful aboard the research vessel, conducting an experiment that resembles a Speakeasy session.”

  “Oh, and don’t forget we’ll need SoCalSci administrators to approve the time and funding for the enterprise,” Greg said. “If I were you, I’d contact the Dean of Engineering and arrange a meeting, the sooner the better.”

  “That’s a great suggestion.”

  “God, I hope this doesn’t backfire on you, dude. The dean’s still steamed about his past pitched battles with McPinsky. Now, along comes Dmitri to wave the red flag of the McPinsky Challenge in his face.”

  “There’s no turning back now, Greg. Speaking of the devil, it wouldn’t hurt to have the support of other allies. Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. I believe I’m about to place a call to my old advisor.”

  DMITRI’S HAMMER

  SoCalSci University, Los Angeles, California—later that day

  “Greetings, Professor. I’m sorry it’s been so long since we last spoke, but I have some special news I want to share with you.” Dmitri felt nearly as nervous as the first time he’d introduced himself to the famed McPinsky. Although they had exchanged pleasantries via the occasional email, it had been nearly a year since he had last spoken with his old college mentor and graduate advisor.

  “Dmitri, my boy, how are you?”

  “Better than ever, Professor.”

  Hearing his professor’s avuncular voice on his office speakerphone brought back many, mostly pleasant, memories. As he had begun to tell Melanie, Dmitri had been only nine years old when his father had perished in a truck accident. The paternal void had been partially filled during his college years with the flowering of a most simpatico relationship. McPinsky had literally saved him during his first semester of engineering graduate school following a disastrous summer internship. Having been bullied and harassed by his manager at a prominent Northern California high-tech company, he had battled a motivational crisis and a lingering depression. He had been on the verge of dropping out of SoCalSci when his academic advisor, Professor Theodosius McPinsky, had emerged as a mentor and role model. His paternal guidance had been the tonic for Dmitri’s rejuvenation. In just three years, Dmitri had earned a doctoral degree and, after a brief, post-doctoral research appointment, had been offered a faculty position in the same department and university as his idol.

  For the past fifteen years, the veteran iconoclast and the precocious protégé had been linked together both intellectually and philosophically. McPinsky had infused Dmitri’s life with a sense of purpose that transcended academic and professional goals. Dmitri felt nurtured in the Petri dish of McPinsky’s assertion that information theory is the basis of the fundamental laws of the universe and the driving force in nature. McPinsky’s declaration that the potential for transformational discovery requires the courage to pose provocative questions—questions that dare to challenge the paradigms of the prevailing world view—had stirred his passion for science.

  McPinsky’s legendary tenure at SoCalSci, following an early PhD from the same institution, had generated numerous awards and patents in his chosen field of communications engineering. During those years of professional success, McPinsky had begun to see a deep pattern emerging from his investigations. These insights had culminated in the current passionate pursuit of the Unified Field Theory of Everything, based on a new Conservation of Information principle. For him, now, it was all about the big picture: the fundamental laws of nature had to explain the necessary and sufficient conditions for the evolution of all systems, from atoms to big-brained organisms.

  McPinsky’s controversial teachings and participation in the annual Symposium on New Physics, Cosmology, and Consciousness had provoked a backlash from the more conservative members of the SoCalSci faculty and administration. Dmitri felt, however, that the evangelical counter reaction to McPinsky’s interspecies communication proposals had precipitated his professor’s professional coup de grâce. He knew that even a whiff of public controversy was frowned upon by the elite of the university’s power structure. He had therefore not been surprised when, shortly after th
e proposals, a campus-wide, rumor-mongering campaign had subjected his mentor to veiled insults and outright ridicule.

  Now, nearly three years later, Dmitri still felt the sting of those painful events. Although McPinsky’s position had been secured by tenure, the proud professor had apparently lost the stomach for the steady diet of unsavory slights dished out by campus critics. To the consternation of his supporters, including Dmitri, the illustrious professor had decided to pack his bags and accept an emeritus position from an Ivy League school more tolerant of its progressive faculty members. Dmitri now believed that, if the preliminary discovery about the whales could be verified, McPinsky’s reputation at SoCalSci and around the world would flourish once again.

  “How are my old colleagues at SoCalSci?” McPinsky’s voice filled Dmitri’s office. “I hope the dean is of uncommonly good cheer.”

  Dmitri relished the familiar strains of McPinsky’s wry sarcasm. He had long surmised that his mentor’s idiosyncratic, sometimes lacerating, wit must have been inherited from his emigrant parents. After all, decades before the days of hyphenated names, his Russian-Jewish father, Isadore Pinsky, and Scottish mother, Tillie McBloom, had changed their surname to the whimsical McPinsky during the McCarthy anti-communist era of “Better dead than Red” hysteria.

  “Those old fuddy-duddies,” replied Dmitri. “No matter what they said about you, I can tell they’re still shocked by your departure. Of course, the rest of us miss you terribly.”

  He knew about McPinsky’s disappointment in students desiring only an expeditious path to an advanced degree. Only a few wanted to achieve something more exceptional from their relationship with him. Of those, Dmitri had been singularly receptive to McPinsky’s credo: “If we are to truly appreciate the world of wonder we inhabit, we must link our awareness of our daily experiences with an understanding of nature’s deep, underlying principles.”

  McPinsky had expected no less from his students then he did from himself, and Dmitri had not let him down. During the somber occasion of McPinsky’s SoCalSci farewell party, he had taken Dmitri aside to confide his immense pride in his former student. He also said that Dmitri should never hesitate to contact him if he needed personal or professional support. Dmitri had cried tears of joy on the drive home, and he still remembered the occasion as the happiest moment of his adult life.

  “So cut to the chase, dear boy. What’s up?”

  Dmitri sighed before he uttered the code words that would resonate with his mentor. “Professor, ‘The sleeper has awakened.’”

  The phrase was from Frank Herbert’s science fiction novel, Dune. When the protagonist imbibed the sacred water of life, he awoke to cosmic consciousness and uttered, “Father, the sleeper has awakened.” It was the son’s response to his father’s signature challenge phrase, “the sleeper must awaken” to new experiences and truths, which ritually concluded McPinsky’s renowned end-of-term lecture.

  After an interminable silence, McPinsky boomed, “Don’t play games with me, son!”

  Initially shaken by his mentor’s tone, Dmitri found it reassuring to be addressed as “son” by this special man. Nevertheless, he was speechless. McPinsky finally filled the void. “I’m sorry. I trust you, but it’s still quite a shock. After all these years, I was beginning to lose hope I would ever hear those words.”

  “Ironically, Professor, it’s all about playing games. I think we’ve discovered something truly wonderful in the recording of a humpback whale song. It’s still preliminary, but the mathematical analysis rings true. The whales are manipulating acoustically generated symbols, like phonemes, to implement the strategy of a two-player board game.”

  “You’re fairly certain of this?”

  “Two of our best mathematicians, Bono and Spelvin, have analyzed and reviewed the data and they’re confident about the results.” Dmitri briefly summarized the events leading up to the breakthrough. “And to think the tool so instrumental to our discovery is literally a souped-up videogame for deaf children!”

  “Wow, wow, wow!” exclaimed McPinsky. “Bono and Spelvin are damn good and Spelvin is a game theory expert. So, it’s true then, what I’ve always hoped for. The beginning of an interspecies dialogue. What a fantastic gift for my birthday.”

  “First things first, Professor. It’s not like Klaatu’s ‘Take me to your leader’ greeting after exiting the saucer he’d landed on the White House lawn. We still need to confirm our hypothesis.”

  “What’s your plan?”

  Hearing the excitement in his mentor’s voice pleased Dmitri. “We challenge them to a game, of course. Choose black or white, please.”

  McPinsky chuckled. “Einstein was right, of course. God doesn’t play dice. He plays checkers.” They laughed heartily.

  “Of course, in hindsight, it’s all so logical,” said the professor. “Intelligent creatures with no opposable thumbs . . . socialization coupled with the purely intellectual exercise of problem solving. But even a science fiction writer would be hard-pressed to imagine such a scenario. Bravo to you and your colleagues. This is tremendulous, Dmitri. I’ll do whatever I can to assist your cause.”

  Dmitri forced himself to downplay his elation. “That’s very generous, Professor. I would be honored if you conferenced into the meeting with the SoCalSci administrators to request funding for the experiment.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise? These days, as you know too well, I’m not the most popular professor on the Left Coast.”

  “Maybe not, but you’re the most persuasive wizard in the world of Muggles. No pun intended, but you’re the grandmaster of the funding game. After Greenpeace, I feel pretty confident putting the fate of the humpbacks in your hands.”

  “Persuasion is one of the Dark Arts of wizardry, Master David Dmitri, and I’ve trained you well. How can I refuse such a compelling invitation?”

  “Happy birthday, Professor.”

  THE SIX THUNDERCLAPS OF PROFESSOR MCPINSKY

  SoCalSci University, Los Angeles, California—two days later

  In Dmitri’s experience, video conferences in cyberspace, especially among scientific researchers and academic bureaucrats, were rather lackluster affairs. On this particular occasion, however, the noise-induced, flickering images on the three wraparound, high-definition-plasma big-screens augured the impending clash of high-voltage egos. The telepresence, videoconferencing technology simulated the participants as life-sized figures sitting around the same table. In fact, it was a bridge of light and sound spanning six time zones that instantaneously united Hawaii with California and New York.

  Dmitri remembered with pride when he’d consulted in the design of the system’s acoustic, echo-cancelling function. To estimate and kill the multiplicity of echoes bouncing off of walls and objects, he’d devised a suite of digital software filters that adapted, every ten milliseconds, to any room’s time-varying frequency profile. Similar mathematical techniques were employed in noise-cancelling headphones. The task was further complicated by the non-linear paths of numerous feedback loops crisscrossing the product’s multiple sets of microphones and loudspeakers. If not exorcised, the lingering ghosts of voices past could haunt the system with the spooky, earsplitting noise one hears when open mikes are positioned too close to loudspeakers.

  Dmitri swiveled his chair in the SoCalSci Telepresence Conferencing Center and inadvertently bumped into the person sitting next to him, the Dean of Engineering and his immediate superior.

  “Excuse me, Dean Wilson.”

  Wilson’s genial expression made clear that he was not offended. The perfectly round lenses of his gold, wire-framed glasses projected an image of owlish wisdom. Wilson’s tailored navy blue suit and red power tie reinforced his executive authority. Dmitri’s senior colleagues had nicknamed him “McNamara,” claiming he was the spitting image of the U.S. Defense Secretary under President Kennedy. Dean Wilson stood and assumed control of the meeting with a vigorous cough into his clenched fist.

  “I’ve called this
meeting at the behest of Associate Professor David Dmitri. He’s requested funding for a collaborative effort between members of our department and the Pacific Institute for Cetacean Educational Studies, represented by their director, Mr. Christopher Gorman. Mr. Gorman’s virtual presence is being beamed to us all the way from Maui.”

  The marine biologist waved greetings to those viewing his image.

  “Sitting to my immediate right,” Wilson continued, “is the chair of the university’s research funding committee, Richard Prescott. Professor Dmitri, would you please summarize your proposal.”

  As Dmitri rose from his seat, his slim figure flashed simultaneously on the multiple video-conferencing displays. “Thank you, Dean Wilson.” He nodded politely and extended an arm toward Greg, who sat next to him at the dark-mahogany-finished racetrack conference table. “Because he was instrumental in this discovery, I’ve asked my math department colleague, Dr. Gregory Bono, to join us. I’ve also invited Professor McPinsky of Ivy Tech. Inspired by his challenge to break the linguistic codes of other species, I recently launched a study of the spectrograms of humpback whale songs. We were looking for patterns of frequency information similar to our phonemes and words.”

  The cadence of Dmitri’s voice conveyed excitement. “My team first examined time-lapse waterfall plots spanning a range of frequencies up to ten kilohertz.” He remained standing and punctuated his talking points with a medley of hand gestures. “Our analysis suggested time-varying patterns similar to the phonemic transitions of human language. We then plotted the same information in a novel x,y coordinate system of the first two resonance peaks.” Dmitri briefly described the Speakeasy speech therapy tool. “Using Speakeasy, we observed a sequence of interesting artifacts which made no sense, so I consulted Dr. Bono. After two days of analysis, he finally made the breakthrough.”