“Word travels fast through the underwater grapevine,” added Lila. She turned to Mark and smiled. “I just hope all these humpbacks aren’t taking numbers and lining up to be Seema’s next game challenger.”
Seema chuckled. “I’d be stuck out here for days.” She left the group, drifted back to the stern and leaned over the rear-facing railing. “God, there are so many of them.”
“Look out there.” Gorman spoke while he videotaped the proceedings. “Most of the members of this super-pod are taking turns spy hopping.”
“What’s that?” asked Mark.
“A spy hop is when the whale sticks his head straight up out of the water,” replied Lila, “and then rotates around, as if scanning the surface.”
“We’re completely surrounded by forty curious humpbacks.” Gorman shook his head in disbelief. “That they’re poking their heads above the surface at the same time is just extraordinary.”
A scream lacerated the air. Dmitri turned his head. A breaching humpback appeared to tower directly above Seema’s cringing figure. Paralyzed by a jolt of fear, Dmitri stared, spellbound, at the awe-inspiring sight. The giant had vaulted above and just a few feet aft of the stern, like an athlete celebrating the opening ceremonies of an Olympiad.
Lila tried to capture the event on camera before the earth’s gravitational tug induced the perfectly symmetric finale to the monster’s stunning arc. At the moment of impact, a billowing mushroom cloud emerged from the sea, followed by a booming shockwave. The entire stern of the boat, including Seema, was engulfed in the deluge. She flailed helplessly in the churning waters.
Dmitri, Greg, and Chris slogged through the backwash to assist their comrade. By the time they’d reached her, Dmitri could barely hear Seema’s distress cries above the sloshing turbulence. They grabbed onto her arms and legs and held tight as the water cascaded through the gunwale railings and scuppers, merging back with the sea. When the upper deck had completely drained, they released their grip. Seema lay on her back, strugging to speak. “I thought—” A hacking cough interrupted her. “I thought I was going to die.” She choked out the words through sobs, water dribbling down her chin.
Dmitri felt a stab of guilt. “You’re okay now, Seema.” Remembering his CPR training, he tried to sound calm as he helped her up to a sitting position and stroked her shoulder. Melanie wrapped Seema in a blanket she’d found in the supply closet. “Let’s get you dry and keep you warm. Just focus on your breathing.”
Melanie and Lila knelt at Seema’s feet and dried her legs with fresh towels.
Gorman stepped forward. “Seema, do you realize you were the closest witness to something truly remarkable?”
Trying to speak, she gagged and coughed. Her body trembled.
“Not now, Chris,” said Melanie softly. “It was a very scary moment for all of us, but far more for Seema.”
“And don’t forget about the Coast Guard,” Dmitri muttered.
“Trust me,” Gorman responded. “I’ve spent more time around humpbacks than practically anyone else, and I’ve never seen anything like this. I’ll tell them—”
In the distance, they heard an amplified voice hailing them from the deck of the approaching Coast Guard cutter. “This is a warning for the occupants of the PICES vessel. Prepare to be boarded by the U.S. Coast Guard.”
“C-Chris,” stammered Dmitri. “I’m the one who’s responsible for the wildcat launch, and I’d better prepare a convincing story for the Feds. I don’t think this is the appropriate time to wax eloquently about magical moments.”
“Don’t worry,” replied Gorman. “Lila, can you please fetch the ship’s megaphone from the pilot.”
Dmitri stared at Gorman, wondering how the marine biologist could totally misjudge the precariousness of the situation.
“Seema,” said Gorman. “I know you were terrified, but in all the years I’ve observed humpbacks, I’ve only known them to be gentle creatures that would never intentionally endanger a human being.”
“You could have fooled me,” said Greg. “It looked like that huge sucker just missed crushing us. Good thing he jumped just behind the boat instead of directly above it.”
“Intentionally is the salient word,” said Melanie, her hand on Seema’s shoulder.
“No one has ever documented a breach like the one we just witnessed,” replied Gorman, as Lila returned with the megaphone. “I’ve never seen a humpback practically leap over a boat, seemingly on purpose. And this was not your garden-variety whale.”
“Yes,” added Lila. “That’s the biggest humpback we’ve ever seen breaching so far above the surface. Probably a fifty-ton, fifty-footer. There was something unique about this animal.”
“Unique is right. It’s also the oldest specimen we’ve ever seen fly so high through the air,” added Gorman. “He looked pretty beat up. His entire ventral surface was covered in barnacles and by the scars of old wounds and infections. Finally, it’s the ceremonial escort that tells me this humpback is some sort of leader afforded the protective cordon of the group. Remember when they were all poking their heads out of the water just prior to the breach? All of it happening within minutes of the first-ever human and whale intellectual encounter.” He paused, and seemed to speak to himself for a moment. “As far as I know, no marine biologist has ever observed such unique behavior.”
“It’s like he’s the . . .” Lila paused and stared into space. “It’s like he’s the Uberwhale.”
“So you’re saying . . .” Greg stopped.
“That Seema was the closest witness to the first-ever, humpback airborne salute of a human vessel,” interjected Gorman. “Think of it as a stupendous champagne toast, except Seema was unfortunately inside of the glass.”
Everyone was silent. Seema spoke with less difficulty now. “You really think this Uberwhale was signaling us with a greeting?”
“Yes. Given all of the facts, I couldn’t characterize it in any other way. Like a Blue Angels flyover.”
“I feel better, Chris.” The color had returned to Seema’s cheeks. “Thank you, everyone.”
“This is all fine and dandy, folks,” proclaimed Dmitri, “but now we’ve gotta deal with the U.S. government.”
“Like I said, we’re still under their protective umbrella.” Gorman grabbed the megaphone from Lila and angled it in the direction of the cutter. “I’m Christopher Gorman,” he shouted, “Director of the Pacific Institute for Cetacean Educational Studies. Our organization is in legal contractual occupation of this vessel. You’re observing the same event we are. Our vessel is surrounded by a pod of whales of the species Megaptera novaeangliae. They are protected by the Marine Mammal Act of 1972. Do not attempt to approach within one hundred yards of any of these individuals or you’ll be in violation of U.S. law.”
Dmitri finally realized what Gorman had already deduced. His shoulders relaxed. The average distance separating the individuals in the ring of humpbacks was less than one hundred feet. Any attempt to pass through a gap between the whales would automatically violate the one-hundred-yard limit. The Research in Paradise was shielded by the same escort that safeguarded the Uberwhale.
“We will abide by international law,” called a Coast Guard official, “but our orders are clear. “We will board your vessel at first opportunity.”
Before anyone could react to the threatening announcement, Andrew’s fervent cries were heard from below the deck. Dmitri followed the others downstairs to see Andrew at the front of the cabin, staring down into the sunken well area that housed the glass bottom.
Andrew turned to face them. “Hey, folks, I don’t know what just happened upstairs, but you’ve gotta see this.” He pointed straight down.
Dmitri and Greg walked over and sat down next to him. Dmitri leaned over the edge of the barrier and peered, incredulous, at an eyeball the size of a large orange on the other side of the glass. The orb appeared to be scrutinizing them.
“It’s Uber!” exclaimed Lila. “He’s checking us o
ut.”
“It’s more like he’s checking out Mark,” said Andrew. The boy had somehow scaled the safety barrier and descended to the bottom of the recessed glass well. With Mark’s face pressed firmly against the glass, the boy and the humpback seemed to be studying one another. The dramatic encounter reminded Dmitri of the scene from Spielberg’s movie, E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial, when the children and the alien make first contact.
Melanie rushed over and gazed down. “Mark!” she yelled, “Get the heck out of there, or else!”
This was the first time Dmitri had heard a punitive edge in Melanie’s voice. He reached down and pulled Mark back up to the cabin level.
“Uber, Goober, whatever . . .” exclaimed Andrew. “He’s right underneath us!”
“Has any humpback ever knocked a boat out of the water?” asked Seema, sounding wary again.
“No way,” replied Gorman. “Andrew, let’s try something. Why don’t you and Seema prepare to engage in another game session?”
“You want us to start broadcasting the random game symbol sounds?” said Seema.
“Precisely,” replied Gorman. “I have a hunch about Lila’s Uberwhale and what this visit is about. Let’s invite our honored guest to an afternoon tête-à-tête. However, since he’s literally camped out in our living room, we first need to reduce the volume level to the underwater speakers. The longer we engage our cetacean friends in conversation, the more time we buy from the Coast Guard’s grasp.”
Seema unwrapped the blanket and walked over to Andrew’s console station.
“Hey, Seema,” said Andrew, “how’d you know I dig the wet T-shirt look? What happened, anyway?”
With a playful flick of her wrist, she slapped his temple.
“Actually,” replied Greg, “Seema was baptized by Uber.”
“You mean like King Kong and his human girlfriend?” replied Andrew.
“Don’t mess with me, pal,” crowed Seema. “I went through hell, but I’m now their Chosen One.”
Lila walked up behind Seema holding some garments. “I scrounged a T-shirt and shorts from the ship’s supplies. Look the other way, Andrew.” With Melanie shielding her in a beach towel curtain, Seema stood and changed into the dry clothes.
“Back to work.” Seema rejoined Andrew, typing commands to initiate the synthesizer and the Speakeasy programs. While the sounds of the whale synthesizer resounded throughout the control room, the first computer-generated game symbol appeared on the TV screen behind Andrew’s workstation.
“Hey look, he’s backing away,” said Lila.
The school-bus-sized Uberwhale gracefully descended beneath the vessel, parking a full body-length’s distance away.
“What’s happening?” It was Professor McPinsky’s voice, sounding confused. “Why’d you all disappear?”
“I forgot you were on the line.” Dmitri gave his professor a brief account of the latest dramatic developments.
“After I completed the file transfer to Professor McPinsky’s computer,” said Andrew, “I initialized the external webcam interface, so he’s currently viewing the Speakeasy screen from his home.”
“It’s almost like being there,” replied McPinsky. “I’m also recording the session to a backup file—”
Before McPinsky could complete the sentence, an earsplitting roar reverberated throughout the cabin, as if it were an echo chamber. Most members of the team cupped their hands over their ears.
“What was that?” said Melanie
“Look at the Speakeasy display,” replied McPinsky.
Dmitri stared at the screen, but it made no sense. The sound that had rocked the boat had also generated the perfectly formed, squashed oval shape of an ellipse. Then he had a hunch. “Andrew, lower the input volume of the hydrophones and everyone fasten your seat belts.”
As the suspense mounted, another cetacean roar yielded the drawing of a second identically shaped ellipse, rotated by forty-five degrees.
Dmitri, his heart racing, faced his friend. “Greg, it looks like Uber is trying to communicate with the mathematicians among us.”
“Unfortunately,” Greg responded, “I don’t have the same ability to depict geometric figures with my voice.”
In under a minute, Uber had roared the shapes of four ellipses, each rotated around the same center point by about forty-five degrees from its neighbor. Dmitri glanced around and saw the same incredulous expression on everyone’s face. To him, the constellation of the four superimposed elliptical figures bore an uncanny resemblance to the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission’s four-ringed logo depicting the orbits of electrons in the nucleus of an atom.
“Oh, Lord,” uttered McPinsky. “Those acoustic drawings are so precise. They’re fairly symmetrical in shape, rotated by nearly identical angles, and they share the same center point. It’s mathematical virtuosity rendered exclusively in sound.”
“If the definition of music is sound-sculpted time,” said Seema, “this is sound-sculpted mathematics.” She glanced at Dmitri.
“That’s a beautiful description, Seema,” replied Dmitri. His comment painted a broad smile onto her face.
“They’ve achieved a mastery of sound,” said Greg, his tone expressing stupefied elation. “The sounds of songs, and now, the sounds of language—a mathematical language!”
“It’s not like Uber is drawing with pencil and paper and has the benefit of visual feedback to achieve such precisely proportioned figures.” Dmitri traced a finger over the shapes on the display. “Just as the juveniles imaged the logical game symbols, Uber’s taken his prowess of memory and precision acoustic control to an even higher level of expression.”
“Except I’m seeing an irregularity in the elliptical symmetries.” Greg paced his words as though he were deliberating. He appeared pensive. “I think there’s something more here than meets the eye. Look.” Greg slid a finger across the peaks and valleys depicted in the waterfall plots on Andrew’s PC workstation monitor.
“You’re right.” Dmitri combed an anxious hand through his hair. “It’s surprising that the energies of the third and fourth higher-frequency peaks are about the same as the first two lower-frequency peaks.”
“Which is very different than for human speech and for the juveniles’ game vocalizations, where only the first two peaks were dominant.” Greg’s voice was charged with excitement. “I think Uber is encoding vital information using all four frequencies.”
“What are you two suggesting?” asked Melanie. “The basis of the Speakeasy system is the visualization of the two-dimensional word grams. Remember our discussion last month? Since we’re restricted by the properties of our vocal tracts, we only use the two lowest resonant frequencies to encode the symbols of language.”
“Which is why the symbols of our language are inherently processed in only two dimensions, limiting the number of symbols we can generate,” answered Dmitri.
Like the Invisible Man, McPinsky’s disembodied voice loomed from the speakerphone. “As the human brain evolved to adapt these symbols in various ways, it’s no accident that the types of games we play are also of a two-dimensional nature.”
“But the spectral plots indicate Uber is generating four different frequency peaks of nearly equal energy intensity, Professor,” replied Greg. “I think we should assume he has an entirely different physiology, which gives him independent control of the four peaks.”
“Chris,” asked Dmitri, “could the humpbacks utilize air sacs of different dimensions, like Helmholz resonators?”
“Over the years, we’ve autopsied a few humpbacks that have washed ashore,” replied Gorman. “We’ve confirmed their respiratory system is connected to a series of structures that look like flotation sacs. Maybe those have been adapted for the generation of sound?”
“Or maybe,” said Seema, “their respiratory system has multiple tubal structures, acting like independent vocal tracts?”
“This is all fascinating,” said Dmitri, “but the Coast Guard’s breathing
down our necks, and I am, after all, responsible for the launch. Maybe they’ll be more lenient if we tell them we’re ready to cooperate.”
“I hear you, Dmitri, but my gut tells me this could be really, really big!” answered Greg. “I’d like to try one more thing.”
“And we’re still surrounded by the whales,” said Lila. “The Coast Guard can’t touch us.”
“Okay, Greg,” said Dmitri. “What do you suggest?”
“Possibly because of my hearing deficiency, I’ve developed an acute visual sensitivity to the structural details of mathematical functions like the ellipses on the screen. I’m saying we may need to examine these vocalizations at a deeper level. Andrew, I know I’m pushing the envelope here, but is it possible to display Uber’s three lowest frequency peaks in 3D perspective?”
“Like a 3D version of Speakeasy?” asked Melanie.
“That’s the idea,” replied Greg, “except we won’t need to wear funny glasses.”
“Thought you’d never ask,” replied Andrew. “I always prepare for contingencies when I write new applications and, besides, we already discussed this back at SoCalSci. I actually did design the program to plot the Speakeasy data in 3D x,y,z coordinates. It’s only because I’ve forced the data points to a value of zero in the third dimension that it’s defaulting to Melanie’s two-dimensional version of Speakeasy.”
“He’s right,” said Dmitri. “Since Andrew had adapted his thesis’s 3D plotting routine for this experiment, we’d decided to maintain the 3D option for both transmit and receive functions.”
“That’s great,” said Greg. “What about computing the frequency and the amplitude of a third peak?”
“Like I said,” replied Andrew, “I live by my Boy Scout leader’s maxim, ‘Prior planning prevents piss-poor performance.’ My peak analysis program loops through the frequency data for as many peaks as I specify. Right now, it only searches through the data for the two lowest-frequency peaks. To search for the three lowest-frequency peaks, I only have to change a single input parameter in the setup menu. Then it’s a piece of cake to image the symbol location in the three-dimensional perspective of a Speakeasy plot.”
The Whale Song Translation: A Voyage of Discovery To Neptune and Beyond Page 26
