Eye of the Whale

by Douglas Carlton Abrams

  “This and other studies are showing that many adult diseases can be preprogrammed into our genes by exposure to toxins in the womb and during childhood. This is nothing less than a revolution in our scientific understanding of toxins and public health. We once believed that ‘the solution to pollution was dilution.’ In other words, if you kept your exposure under a supposedly safe level, there was no problem. We now see that this is not the case. Minute quantities can alter the expression of our genes and cause lasting health problems. Other possible dangers of Bisphenol A include impaired brain development, hyperactivity, Down syndrome, prostate cancer, low sperm count, long-term memory loss, dementia, and even obesity and diabetes. Bisphenol A is just one chemical of the thousands our bodies have to contend with. You probably have always looked at the ingredients that you couldn’t pronounce in the products in your home, and something deep inside said that these were probably not good for you. The truth is, you were right. Many of them aren’t.”

  “Dr. Ginsburg, you are only presenting part of the data.” It was the man in the blue suit in the back of the room. “There have been numerous industry studies that have shown these chemicals are safe.”

  “There are many reasons that the design of certain studies hides the true dangers—which I don’t have time to go into—but let me show you one slide that I think will present the problem of relying on companies who have billions of dollars at stake to conduct their own health research. There have been 180 animal studies of Bisphenol A at levels beneath FDA/EPA safety standards.” Dr. Ginsburg clicked on the next slide. “In the studies funded by the government, 14 found no effect, and 153 found an effect.” She switched to the next slide. “In the studies funded by industry, 13 found no effect, and 0 found an effect.” There was an audible murmur in the room.

  The man who had asked so many questions got up to leave, perhaps realizing that he had done what he could or that this audience was increasingly unsympathetic to his position.

  “Sir, before you leave, would you share with the audience whether you work for an industry lobbying group or a product defense firm?” When the audience showed surprise at this last term, Dr. Ginsburg added, “Yes, even products now have lawyers.”

  The heckler looked over his shoulder but left without answering. Dr. Ginsburg turned her intense gaze back to the audience.

  “We worry about chemical weapons in the hands of terrorists, but we are using chemical weapons against ourselves. Endocrine disruption is a time bomb that could lead to the extinction of our species and much other life on the planet. We have spread these chemicals so far and wide that there is no longer any hope that one person can avoid exposure through food and lifestyle choices. Eating organic and other precautions are important, but they are not enough. What is required is collective action. Our survival depends on it. But I must share with you my greatest fear. There may be fates worse than extinction. If we don’t address the problem and we do survive, we may do so as such a disease-riddled, suffering species that we may someday wish we had been wiped out.”

  ELIZABETH SAT THERE stunned. It was difficult to accept the magnitude of the danger. Even as scientists, she and Frank had not yet known that the problem was so great. Clearly some people—no doubt many—were trying to obscure the data. After the applause died down, she and Frank walked up to speak with Professor Ginsburg as other audience members gathered around.

  “Dr. Ginsburg, my name is Elizabeth McKay, and I am a marine biologist.”

  “Oh yes, I’ve seen you with that whale, Apollo.”

  “That’s why I’m here. I’m trying to understand what might be happening to the whales. Could endocrine disruption and the kind of environmental toxicity you were describing lead to lesions and tumors in newborn whales?”

  “Absolutely,” said Professor Ginsburg. “We’re starting to find these problems in marine as well as terrestrial life. To prove the relationship, of course, you need to do testing.”

  “What tests do you recommend?”

  “You’re at UC Davis, aren’t you?”

  Elizabeth decided not to explain that she had been kicked out. “Near there.”

  “Well, I work a lot with Pete Sanchez at UCD. He’s a toxicologist with a state-of-the-art lab. If you can get tissue and water samples, he can do the testing.”

  Frank said, “Have you mapped the distribution of these chemicals? For example, in Northern California?”

  “We’re working on that now. Actually, most of our mapping gets done in Pete’s lab. That’s his specialty. Would you like me to let him know you’ll be in touch?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Elizabeth said, knowing what she had to do next.

  IN THE ROW where the heckler had been sitting, Amanda Hanson flipped open her thin silver cell phone.

  “Elizabeth McKay is a bigger problem than I thought. I want to know everything she knows, the minute she knows it. Did you get her phone?”

  “Our security officer was…unsuccessful.”

  Hanson inhaled deeply, trying to control her temper, remembering what her yoga teacher had said about deep breathing and relaxation. “What are you going to do now?”

  “We’ve figured out how to do it remotely. With the transmission of one firmware patch, her cell phone will tell us everything we want to know and more.”

  FIFTY-THREE

  9:00 P.M.

  “GOD, THAT WAS DEPRESSING,” Frank said. He and Elizabeth were outside the lecture hall, trying to process the disturbing information. But most of all, they were thinking about their child. The future of the species was no longer an abstract fear—part of that future was right in Elizabeth’s womb. “She seems so cheerful, even though she’s telling us that the world is ending.”

  “It’s not over yet, Frank. There’s still a chance to turn it around.” Elizabeth’s stomach growled with hunger. The fate of the whales and the world would have to wait until after she had eaten. Her child was hungry, and there was no way to feed a child on despair.

  Elizabeth and Frank stepped into Saul’s to grab a quick sandwich. The long deli display case was practically overflowing. All around them hung New York photos and memorabilia. Elizabeth remembered all the delicatessens she had eaten pickles in, studied in, and heard people argue in while growing up in New York.

  While they waited, Elizabeth thought about the talk. She had a better idea what might have caused the health problems in the whale calf in Bequia. She kept thinking of the meaning of the sounds in the song. Baby. Baby. Danger.

  “Professor Maddings said that the new song originated in Bequia,” Elizabeth said, as much to herself as to Frank. “Echo began singing it after Sliver’s calf was born sick.”

  “Do you think the song is about Sliver’s sick baby?”

  While Frank was clearly dubious, she appreciated that he was trying to help. “No. If that were the case, why would the song have spread around the world? Why would other whales have chosen to adopt it as well?”

  Frank paid the cashier and took the bag of food. Inside were two sandwiches and two large kosher pickles as well as the potato knish, half a pound of macaroni salad, and bagel with cream cheese Elizabeth had also ordered. Feeling a little embarrassed by her appetite, she moved toward the door.

  Elizabeth noticed a black-and-white picture on the wall. It was of an old synagogue. She ran her fingertips across a line of Hebrew carved into the synagogue’s stone wall. She noticed two words repeated in a row. She did not recognize the words, but she recognized the letters from her Hebrew school classes. In some ancient languages, she had learned, repetition was an intensifier—or perhaps a multiplier.

  Her heart started to race. “That’s it,” she mumbled to herself, her mouth full of bagel. “That’s it.”

  “What?” Frank asked as he caught up to her.

  “I think I know why the whale is repeating the sound for ‘baby.’”

  They pushed their way through the glass door. As she spoke, little puffs of moisture were visible in the cold night air
. “They’re not saying Baby—danger. They’re saying Babies—danger. It’s plural.”

  FIFTY-FOUR

  9:00 A.M.

  Next day

  Wednesday

  Sacramento

  ELIZABETH LOOKED DOWN at her ring finger. It felt all the more naked now that she and Frank were back together. Together but not actually together. On their way home from Berkeley, Frank had been paged to the hospital.

  When she got home, Elizabeth realized that in the flurry of everything, she had forgotten to tell Frank about Teo. She called Frank’s cell phone, but the voice mail box was full. She didn’t want him coming home and finding Teo there. She’d swing by the hospital and tell him after her meeting with Bruce Wood, the reporter.

  The reception area of the Sacramento Times spilled over into the offices of its reporters. The large open room was filled with the hum of people talking. Everyone walked quickly and she could feel the tension in the air. At a daily paper, every hour counted toward making deadline.

  “He can see you now,” said the secretary, who was smiling and starry-eyed at having met the “whale lady.” Frank had convinced Elizabeth to try out her theory with one journalist before announcing it on live television at the press conference. She had seen how easily her words could be misunderstood or misconstrued.

  The metro news area was a maze of cubicles, the dividers rising high enough so that people were hidden while seated but could stand up and shout above them. Fixed to columns in various places were televisions tuned to CNN. Bruce Wood was leaning far back in his chair, his fingers laced behind his head. As soon as she saw his wry expression, she regretted having come.

  “Your message said that you wanted to talk about pollution. Does this have to do with crop dusting?”

  “Not only. This is a much greater threat.”

  “Look, Elizabeth, I already told you that pollution is not news in the Central Valley. I was hoping you were coming in for a feature story on whale whispering.”

  “I realize that this might be beyond the interest of metro. That’s why I called to see if the news reporter and the science reporter might be able to sit in on the interview.”

  “Based on what you said in the message—that the whales are worried about their babies—the editors weren’t convinced that we were dealing with news—or, quite frankly, science.”

  “I realize this may be hard to accept, but I’ve identified two calls—one for ‘danger’ and one for ‘baby,’ which is repeated, possibly as a plural.”

  “Danger’ and ‘baby’?” The reporter spoke very slowly, as if he were speaking to an imbecile or a lunatic.

  Elizabeth steeled herself and persevered. “I believe the whale is warning other whales that their offspring are in danger.”

  “I see. Well, for every…whale…that has a doomsday projection, there is probably another whale that is saying everything is coming up roses. Uh, not sure if whales know about roses…coming up seaweed?”

  “I can see that you don’t believe anything I’m saying.”

  “No, frankly, I don’t.”

  “I realize that it’s hard for us to imagine that whales are intelligent enough to communicate or care about one another.”

  “I once read that they were about as smart as dogs. I’ve met some smart dogs in my day, but they couldn’t do much more than fetch and roll over.”

  Elizabeth remembered something Maddings had said about cynics being heartbroken optimists who never wanted to have their heart broken again. Wood, like so many others, would never be able to risk believing what she was telling him. Elizabeth got up, realizing there was no reason to continue the conversation.

  The newspaper on Wood’s desk reported another homicide down by the river. Elizabeth turned back to the reporter and jabbed her finger down on the front page. “Murder and war, your so-called news stories, are not really news at all. Those stories are as old as our species. The real news is what is happening for the first time in the history of our planet.”

  As Elizabeth walked away, Wood stood and called out to her over his cubicle wall. “Call me if you want to be profiled in the pets and people section.”

  FIFTY-FIVE

  9:10 A.M.

  Davis

  FRANK WAS EXHAUSTED and glad to be coming home, if only for a few hours of desperately needed sleep. He imagined Elizabeth’s long black hair tickling his nose as he curled up against her that night. For now he was just grateful to lie down for a few hours in his own bed.

  Frank tried to find the right key as he inserted several that all looked alike. The knob started turning by itself. Standing in the doorway was a swarthy, broad-shouldered man with two different-colored eyes.

  “Who are you?”

  “And you must be the long-lost husband. Frank, is it?”

  “Yeah, and who the hell are you?”

  “My name is Teo.” He sized Frank up from head to toe. “So you the one Liza left me for?”

  “Liza? You mean Elizabeth.”

  “Before she your Elizabeth, she my Liza. Come in. She be back anytime. We cooking up some breakfast.”

  “Elizabeth doesn’t cook.”

  “Maybe she just like island cooking.” Teo was baiting him. Frank saw the kitchen knife in his hand.

  “What are you doing in my house?”

  “Your house? I thought you left. I guess that means Liza can do as she please, and it please her to have me here.” Teo started walking back into the kitchen.

  “I don’t believe this.”

  “Believe it, man,” Teo called out. “Just ask her.”

  Frank’s mind was reeling. Was she playing him? Had she cuckolded him? “Get out of my house!” He didn’t care whether the man had a knife or not.

  “Is Liza’s house now. Remember? I leave if she tell me to.”

  Frank’s blood was pumping into his fists. He turned and slammed the door behind him.

  FIFTY-SIX

  11:35 A.M.

  Sacramento

  FRANK HAD TRIED ELIZABETH on her cell without success. Maybe she had turned it off while she was in the meeting with the journalist. She often forgot to turn it back on. He paused before entering the exam room and shook his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts that kept circling in his mind like a dog chasing its tail. Whatever he was feeling about Elizabeth and Teo, he would need to leave it in the hall. He looked down at the chart for six-month-old Justine Gates.

  Frank opened the door. Delores Gates, Justine’s nervous mother, had stopped in on her way to the surgeon. She stared at him, desperate for help. Frank looked at the baby girl in her arms. Justine was dressed in a pressed pink sailor’s outfit. Her brown eyes looked at him with wonder, and the fluorescent light reflected off her smooth cheeks and button nose. Frank hoped his child would be as adorable.

  Justine’s mother was smartly dressed in a pink pantsuit, and her long, straightened hair did not have a strand out of place. She wore black cat’s-eye glasses, which somehow made her look both more beautiful and more intelligent. Her husband stepped back into the room from taking a cell phone call in the hall. “Sorry, it was the office.” He was apologizing more to his wife than to Frank, and her raised eyebrow registered her displeasure at her husband’s priorities. “There’s an emergency at the Rio Vista chemical plant.”

  “You work at a chemical plant?” Frank asked, knowing that worker exposure was often a risk factor for children and wondering if he should factor it in to his differential diagnosis.

  “I’m the chief financial officer for Heizer Chemical Industries International,” Gates said as he tilted his head back and looked down his nose at Frank. He squared the shoulders of his green pin-striped Italian suit, which probably cost more than Frank made in a week, maybe even a month. Yet when they had first met, Frank had felt the strong grip of someone who had once worked with his hands. Gates’s arrogant reaction hinted at the insecurity of a man who fears slipping back to where he began.

  Frank tried to ignore the father’s
arrogance and gather the information he needed. “Do you spend much time at the plant itself?”

  “Our company has thirty-five plants around the world, Dr. Lombardi. I work out of the headquarters in San Francisco.”

  “I am asking…for health reasons,” Frank said, trying to recover from the awkwardness of the moment.

  “Periodically, I need to go to one of the plants for an audit or other emergency. Why?”

  “On-the-job exposure is one concern, but let’s not jump to conclusions or a diagnosis. The tests should be back tomorrow, so we will know for sure. Now there is no sense worrying until we know what we are dealing with.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Justine’s mother said, pulling her child more tightly into her arms, as if she were trying to protect her from whatever news they might hear the next day.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Frank said, stepping out of the room.

  Elizabeth was standing in the hall. “I missed you last night—” she said with a seductive smile.

  Frank was not smiling. “Apparently, you had plenty of company.”

  “Are you talking about Teo?”

  “Yeah, Teo.” Frank’s voice was hollow and cruel. “What is he doing here? I thought that was over before we were even together.”

  “It was over—it is over. I tried to leave a message on your cell phone to tell you he was in town and needed a place to stay. He’s still a friend.”

  “Sounds like a very good friend.”