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

by Howard Steven Pines

  “Wait a minute.” Dean Wilson’s tone expressed an implicit warning. “You’re telling me that this is not the interesting but benign study you’d initially proposed? We thought you were comparing and contrasting whale songs among geographically dispersed humpback populations?”

  Dmitri paused and met Wilson’s icy blue gaze. “That was our original intention. However, we believe we’ve discovered mathematical evidence of the humpback’s use of symbols in an advanced intellectual exercise. We’ve also determined that the humpback brain must possess a remarkable memory capacity for the acoustic generation and auditory imaging of these symbols. Our findings have been reviewed and vetted by two of our colleagues. In collaboration with Chris Gorman’s PICES organization, we propose to confirm our findings experimentally. We’ll equip a PICES research vessel and conduct the experiment off the coast of Maui.”

  Richard Prescott pushed away from the table and propelled up from his chair, startling the dean. “This quixotic proposal could tarnish the reputation of SoCalSci’s Engineering Department. It could incite controversy among the university’s largest donors, who hold rather traditional philosophical and religious beliefs.” He appeared to be jousting with Dmitri, across the table, by jabbing the rapier of his index finger as if it were a weapon. He shifted his gaze, and stared directly at Gorman’s virtual image. With increasing vehemence, he continued. “Mr. Gorman, aren’t you afraid this Dr. Dolittle fantasy could jeopardize support from your own organization’s donors and sponsors?”

  Gorman hesitated. As Dmitri saw the signs of confusion—or was it fear?—in Gorman’s eyes, he realized too late that he should have forewarned the PICES director about Prescott’s bullying tactics.

  Gorman cleared his throat, not once, but twice. “Our Institute’s charter is nuts and bolts marine oceanographic research. Our initial collaboration with Dr. Dmitri was to study the patterns in whale songs . . .”

  Dmitri heard the tentative intonation of Gorman’s voice. He didn’t sound anything like the take-charge executive he’d been in Maui. He stopped in mid-sentence and sipped from his water glass, then continued.

  “. . . to study the patterns in whale songs as an insight into the feeding, breeding, and migration behavior of humpbacks. Frankly, I was surprised when Dr. Dmitri informed me he had organized this meeting to discuss a much more ambitious proposal.”

  Dmitri was shocked. Gorman’s waffling response seemed like a stunning reversal of his previous plea for a language breakthrough. Prescott had undoubtedly intimidated the marine biologist, possibly inflicting a fatal blow to the funding proposal. Dmitri, now seated, turned to Greg, whose expression reflected his own indignation.

  “Mr. Gorman is rightfully concerned,” said Prescott, his face turning red. “Funding a proposal of this nature is dangerous and could serve as a lightning rod for unpleasant backlash from the community at large. We’re responsible academics. Not children acting out a New Age fairy tale.”

  Dean Wilson placed a calming hand on Prescott’s shoulder. In a controlled yet skeptical tone, he asked, “Dr. Dmitri, are we to understand you’ve not only discovered something interesting about whale language but have in fact found what you consider evidence of a high-order intellectual capability?”

  “Precisely. The conclusions are based on the rigorous application of engineering fundamentals and mathematical analysis.”

  Wilson drew a deep breath, as if steeling himself for a strenuous task. “Then please indulge me while I play devil’s advocate on behalf of those who would question your proposal. The prevailing view is that a high order intellect is inextricably linked to the development of a society or civilization. But as Mr. Gorman just indicated, we’re observing creatures frolicking in the water who simply feed, breed, and migrate like many other primitive species. To echo Richard Prescott’s sentiments, those with traditional attitudes might fear that your proposal is a metaphysical wrecking ball to the core beliefs of our society.”

  While the dean droned on, Dmitri deliberately focused his attention elsewhere. Meeting Greg’s sympathetic eyes, his gaze shifted around the table until it settled upon the sickening smirk plastered on Prescott’s face, like a carnival mask. The man’s terrible comb-over, performing a perpetual reverse backflip on the top of his head, reinforced his image as a “phony” in Dmitri’s eye. Nearly three years ago, Prescott had colluded with other McPinsky critics to coerce the professor’s departure from SoCalSci. Since then, Prescott had been branded the “Self Appointed Patrician,” or SAP, in charge of spin control by SoCalSci’s more progressive engineering faculty members.

  A familiar sound captured Dmitri’s attention. Until now a silent sentinel, McPinsky announced his presence with a droll chuckle. Uncoiling his six-foot, six-inch frame from the chair, the system’s motion sensors prominently projected his leonine image onto the displays a continent and an ocean away. “May I address the distinguished Dean of the SoCalSci Engineering Department?”

  Dmitri directed a surreptitious wink at Greg. They were very familiar with McPinsky’s humble request, a coded invitation to the lambs to lie with the lion.

  Dean Wilson greeted the newcomer with a brief smile, a taut brow, and the faintest hint of disdain in his mild tone. “Greetings, Theodosius. How many years have passed since you brachiated away from the Left Coast to cling to Ivy League vines?”

  “Long enough, Robert, to know I’m now happily ensconced on the right coast.”

  Greg whispered into Dmitri’s ear, “Let’s get ready to rumble. I warned you about inviting him.”

  Wilson sighed. “Dear Theodosius, our esteemed SoCalSci physics colleague, Dr. Wilhelm Shockey, has expressed serious doubts about your Unified Field Theory of Everything.”

  McPinsky’s tone was solemn. “Let me pause to acknowledge the illustrious Dr. Shockey, and his unique ability to modulate hot air to simulate human speech.”

  From coast-to-coast-to-coast, all attendees heard the mid-air collision of gasps and titters launched across the table in the SoCalSci conference room.

  “Greetings, Professor McPinsky,” interjected Prescott. “How are your spiritualist comrades from the Symposium of Cosmology and Consciousness?”

  McPinsky covered his heart with a hand. “Lama Dawa Cham sends his regards, Richard, and a prayer for your salvation.”

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen!” interjected Dean Wilson. “Let us proceed.”

  “Prescott’s still out for blood.” Greg spoke to his friend in hushed tones. “You’d better do something, pal, before it’s too late.”

  Dmitri stood so abruptly he nearly stumbled. “I think you’ll all agree . . .” He hesitated, swallowing twice in an attempt to lubricate his dry mouth. “I’d like to recognize Professor McPinsky as a courageous pioneer to those of my generation. It’s the reason I’ve invited him here today. So he can share his invaluable insights.”

  In stark contrast to the other participants, who casually reclined in chairs around conference tables, McPinsky stood behind a lecturer’s podium in Ivy Tech’s Media Communications Center. Possibly in an attempt to connect with the 1930s Golden Age of Physics, his clothing reinforced his unconventional proclivities. Suspenders supported McPinsky’s corduroy slacks and an op-art vest decorated a burly torso. His imperious gaze was tempered and framed by horn-rimmed, faux-tortoise-shell glasses.

  McPinsky gripped the sides of the podium and smiled. “Dean Wilson and assembled guests, the first word I’d like you to ponder is ‘transformation.’” With years of practice, McPinsky’s resonant voice and authoritative demeanor commanded attention. “My former colleague, Dr. Dmitri, presents us with the ‘eureka’ opportunity of a lifetime. Nay, it’s the opportunity of a century . . .” Here he paused dramatically and then continued, “. . . or even of a millennium. In reply, I only hear the wailing of children, fearful for your reputations and budgets. What a pity. I see that some of you would still cling to pre-Enlightenment orthodoxies rather than wake up to the gestalt of what’s staring you in the
face. I urge you not to succumb to the shackles of your preconditioned fears. To bolster our collective courage, I’d like to weave a tapestry of brief quotes on the subject of transformation from my favorite philosopher, the great Indian sage, J. Krishnamurti.”

  After he had removed his glasses, McPinsky read from a book resting on the podium. “‘The transformation of the world is brought about by the transformation of oneself, because the self is the product and a part of the total process of human existence. To know oneself as one is requires an extraordinary alertness of mind, because what is is constantly undergoing transformation . . . and to follow it swiftly the mind must not be tethered to any particular dogma or belief, because beliefs and ideals only give you a color, perverting true perception.’”

  With gusts of breath, McPinsky paused to fog his glasses. He worked a paisley handkerchief vigorously, like someone drying dishes. Satisfied with the result, he hooked the left and right earpieces, one at a time, back over his ears. He stared directly into the camera and resumed.

  “Like Krishnamurti, the Eastern mystics tell us that the truth of the perception we experience today is in fact maya, the veil of illusion. The breakthrough technology of this videoconferencing system simulates the reality that we’re sitting at the same table and having a friendly chat. As you all know, the images and voices we project to one another are simply reconstructed by microcomputers from the mathematical deconstructions and compressions of signals derived from our original voices and images. Those same microcomputers digitally slice and dice the information until it is but a stream of the most primitive of symbols, bits of ones and zeros. Thus the interchangeable currency of information, transmitted through the ether and reconstructed in reverse fashion can generate the illusion of direct experience, of maya.”

  As McPinsky spoke while clutching the sides of the podium, he intermittently raised his right arm into the air. On about every third shake of the fist, he modulated his fingers in a seemingly different shape of the rock, paper, and scissors game. This trademark gesture apparently granted the audience permission to experience the deep subject of his lecture in a spirit of playfulness. McPinsky’s cadenced voice was synchronized with each exclamation of the fist. No one dared to intervene. After all, he was the preeminent advocate of “the big picture.”

  “Yes, yes, Theodosius.” Dean Wilson’s voice expressed impatience. “We’re all familiar with your theory. We need to shift back to the matter at hand.”

  Due to an asymmetric relationship between his nose and ears, McPinsky’s glasses periodically slid down the bridge of his nose. While glaring at Wilson, his outstretched middle finger pushed them back in place, an “in-your-face” gesture to both Wilson and to the gods who’d inflicted him with this irritating anomaly.

  “Next, I want you to consider the concept of the ‘continuum of intelligence,’” McPinsky said forcefully. “Your argument is that humpback whales are primitive animals, swimming in the ocean, with no palpable evidence to justify the possibility of higher intelligence. But in fact many creatures generate symbols of various types to communicate with their comrades, and I claim these symbols are the gold standard for measuring intellect in any species.

  “Imagine in the same room, an emaciated parrot in a birdcage and two English-speaking humans who are seated back-to-back. One of the humans sits next to the birdcage and holds a stack of crackers. The other person is in possession of a carton of milk. The parrot starts speaking some words in the English language. In fact, the bird has been trained to utter, ‘Polly want a cracker,’ whenever it is hungry. In response, the human places one of the crackers into the cage, which the parrot consumes. There is a measureable cross-species exchange of linguistic symbols between bird and human. The human with the remaining crackers realizes he too is hungry, so he consumes the rest. Since his mouth is caked with crumbs, he’s in desperate need of a drink, so just as in the scene in a TV commercial, he utters ‘Got Milk?’ But the man with the milk can’t see his neighbor’s plight, and since he can’t understand the garbled words, he retains the carton. In this case there is no measurable exchange of information between the humans.

  “The story’s lesson is that language is a set of symbols using any of the five senses. Its sole purpose is to communicate the thoughts inside the brain of one individual to another. In some cases, these thoughts reflect needs, such as expressions of hunger or thirst. The parrot had communicated in our language to express its needs in the same way that a freeway-ramp vagabond displays a WILL WORK FOR FOOD sign. The bird used learned symbols with shared meaning—the very definition of language—across the species boundary to forestall hunger. You could claim my example is a classic case of stimulus-response learning. However, since both language and cognitive reflection are abstractive processes, the use of language is a strong indicator of cognitive intelligence.”

  McPinsky paused, distracted by Dean Wilson’s languorous display of yawning and stretching. Aware of McPinsky’s withering stare, Wilson sat at attention.“My apologies, Theodosius. Please continue.” Dmitri cupped his hand to veil his grin.

  “That’s most kind of you, Dean. Now, where were we? Ah, yes. So, although one way to measure intellect is to examine the material vestiges of civilization—its tools, books, and buildings, for example—we can also measure it indirectly by discovering and decoding the symbols of language, the abstractions derived from the brain’s thoughts. So you see, this generalized concept of the continuum of intelligence, based solely upon the symbolic exchange of thoughts and ideas, allows various species to evolve societies of the mind which are accessible to other inquisitive species, like us.”

  A brief silence had settled over the room. Bodies shifted in their chairs. Just as Dmitri had hoped, his mentor, now in the spotlight, had marginalized Prescott’s influence.

  “My next subject is ‘justice,’” said McPinsky. “Did you ever see the original Planet of the Apes movies? Arrogant assumptions about another species’ intellectual deficiencies prevented communication breakthroughs between the apes and humans. Simple IQ tests were administered by the apes, assuming animal-like levels of intellect. The human subjects were frustrated to be treated in such low regard. As for your argument that Drs. Dmitri and Bono don’t have compelling evidence to justify further experimentation, are you willing to take the risk in denying their right to pursue their research? What if they are correct right now, but the world has to wait for another team to confirm their discovery? That these potentially advanced creatures would continue to be consumed as sushi is tantamount to human cannibalism. Future generations will retroactively convict us on charges of moral high treason.”

  “Now see here!” Prescott’s veins bulged under his collar, but he was shushed into silence.

  McPinsky thundered onward. “Next, think about ‘redemption!’ In the exercising of our dominion over all creatures on the earth, and most notably in the seas, we’ve polluted their home with trash, chemicals, and injurious cacophonies. We’ve slaughtered them to near-extinction with explosive harpoons and mass beachings. What about the moral rationale of redeeming ourselves from the guilt of these atrocities?”

  “Excuse me, Professor,” Greg said, raising his hand.

  Greg’s interjection stunned Dmitri. Even McPinsky’s students knew better than to pose questions during his lectures.

  “Yes?” replied McPinsky, his tone teetering between surprise and irritation.

  “Sorry for the interruption, but many hearing-challenged individuals, including me, have benefitted from high-tech breakthroughs unavailable to previous generations. Tools like Speakeasy are a life-altering gift. Shouldn’t we overcome our arrogance and pay this gift forward to give these beings the chance to express their own voices? This, in itself, is a worthy enough reason to continue this line of research. To not even try is to admit we’re deaf to other voices.”

  McPinsky’s sober visage transformed to a broad smile. “Thank you,” replied McPinsky. “As our auditory-challenged colleague
says so eloquently, in one tremendous leap we can redeem the sins of our fathers by offering the ‘Gift of Prometheus.’

  “Now, I want you to consider the concept of ‘judgment.’ Your religious argument is that God has judged humans alone worthy of holding dominion over all creatures on the planet. But what if there are other judges? What if, at this very moment, ET’s visiting our solar system are observing our behavior in order to judge our contact-worthiness quotient? In a scenario similar to our current discussion and in the comfort of their mother craft, they might be discussing the pros and cons of contact with Homo sapiens. Their Prime Directive probably echoes Star Trek’s: ‘Don’t interfere with primitive cultures.’ If so, the ET’s definition of ‘primitive’ would most certainly be ‘incapable of handling the societal shock and psychological dislocation of first contact with aliens.’

  “The naysayers amongst them cite how ignorant, arrogant, and fearful we must be, since we did not even attempt contact with another intelligent planetary species. On the other hand, our advocates amongst them could cite that we demonstrated our resilience to potentially shocking discoveries by instigating local cetacean contact. We will have proven we are curious and contact-worthy creatures. In their eyes, the Prometheus gift would qualify humankind as a civilization with the potential for advancement to Type 1 or Type 2 status, as defined by the physicist Michio Kaku.”

  Dean Wilson raised his arms and tilted his head in puzzlement.

  “Apparently, some of you are not familiar with Dr. Kaku’s theories about the evolution of planetary civilizations.” Wilson nodded. “Humans are an example of a Type 0 civilization: low-tech and on the verge of self-extinction. If we can conquer our self-destructive tendencies, we have a chance of surviving long enough to achieve Type 1 status. We’ll have the ability to control energy on a planetary scale: weather modification and limitless, free energy. The next step to Type 2 is the power to manipulate the energy of stars. Type 3 possesses galactic powers, the realm of the gods.”