by Mark Wandrey
“This is unsettling,” Trudeau said.
“What, that I would defend my child?” Terry knew his mom was getting mad. He’d seen it more than enough times. She also seemed quicker to anger after her recovery.
“I don’t think we need to turn this into a confrontation,” Dr. Taumata said in a calming voice. She looked at Terry. “All the cetaceans hold a very high opinion of you, young man.”
“I like them,” Terry said. “I think they like me.”
“They do.”
“Of course they do,” Trudeau said. “He feeds them.”
“Not all that often,” his mom said, and passed a file to the argumentative man. Terry recognized a checkout form from the food preparation area. “As you’ll see, over the last two years, Terry has fed them less than 50 times out of a total of 1,533 feedings. Three percent isn’t even statistically significant. They like him because of their own feelings.”
“Feelings,” Trudeau said, and snorted. “Just a sense of the familiar.”
“Did you notice the change in the dolphins’ behavior when their missing pod mates returned?” Taumata asked Trudeau. “I understand this sort of behavior is common among all cetaceans.”
“What is your specialty within marine biology?” his mother asked the man.
“Mollusks are my specialty,” Trudeau said. Terry’s mom and Taumata exchanged looks, and Trudeau’s expression darkened.
“I see,” his mom said, and Terry suppressed a smile.
“Terry,” Taumata said, “can you tell me your impression of the cetaceans before and after their augmentation?”
“You mean besides their ability to speak English?” She nodded. “Well, they’ve become much easier to work with, of course. I could only tell personalities by actions before, but now I can tell they all speak differently, as well. The Wanderer and the Shore pods of orcas are also much more different than I could tell by just watching them before.”
“Can you elaborate?” Taumata asked.
“Sure,” Terry said and glanced at his mom. She nodded for him to go ahead. “The two pods are different kinds of orcas. I knew this already, but now I can tell they think differently, too.”
“How so?”
“Well, they both know about Shool, but they think about it differently.”
“There is this fantastical Shool merde,” Trudeau said.
“I’ll ask you to watch your language,” his mother said.
Terry had no idea what merde meant. Now he knew it wasn’t a good word. Trudeau’s face turned slightly red, but he nodded.
“Do you believe it’s a religion with them?” Taumata asked.
“Yup,” Terry said. “They talk about it a lot, but the Shore Pod are much bigger into it. They act more like it’s God. You know, everywhere? The Wandering Pod thinks of Shool like it’s a thing, deep down under the water.”
“Klaak, can you elaborate?” Taumata said. “Is this religion possibly a side effect of the implants?”
The Sidar’s elongated head turned so one eye could fix Terry in its black-on-black gaze before he spoke. “An improperly administered pinplant could have unforeseen complications. As I’ve previously stated, these pinplants are a simple model designed for the Selroth. I’ve provided basic neural details on the race, and confirmed they are remarkably like your primitive cetaceans. I’ve also examined the simple scans of the...dolpins?”
“Dolphins,” Taumata corrected. “Pacific bottlenose dolphins.”
“Yes, sorry, dolphins. The scans indicated good nanite penetration of their cerebellum and properly functioning interfaces. Coprocessing is in place, and the four I examined appear to have adapted to them remarkably well, considering they’re considered non-sentient by Union index standards. I haven’t examined the orcas yet, but if the implants were handled with the same skill on them as they were on the dolphins, I don’t anticipate a problem. I’ve never observed a bad implant causing any sort of delusional behavior. Psychosis or neural failure, yes. But not making up anything as complicated as a religion.”
“As I’ve already shown you,” his mom said, “they mentioned Shool before any of them had the implant, just using an external translator. We’d assumed it might be a problem with the improvised matrix, but after the implants, the terminology remained and was greatly expanded.”
“Mom,” Terry said. She glanced at him. “I don’t understand all this. What is Klaak saying about the translators?”
“They aren’t translators,” she explained.
“Indeed not,” Klaak agreed. “In the Galactic Union, they’re called pinplants. These are used to interface with computers, store data, and augment learning. They’re nearly ubiquitous among many established races.” He turned his head slightly, reached up with a wing which sported a vestigial wing membrane, and touched the side of his head. Terry could see a little circuit board there. It had something plugged into it and a tiny yellow light.
“Your father,” his mom said and sighed. “He bought the implants without doing any research. They were old technology.”
“Yes,” Klaak agreed. “Those pinplants are extremely old and not used anymore. The Selroth haven’t used them for 500 years.”
“So they were broken?” Terry asked.
“No,” Klaak said, shaking his huge head slightly from side to side. “Just old. They are medical class devices, and if the seals are properly maintained, they will be useable for thousands of years. Based on the packaging I’ve examined, the ones used were in perfect condition. We guess an unscrupulous free trader took advantage of your race’s ignorance to get rid of some old inventory.”
“That sucks,” Terry said. “Isn’t it against the law in the Union to do that?”
The Sidar made a coughing sound, his translator turned into a “Ha ha ha” sound. “Law? You Humans have much to learn about the Galactic Union.”
“The Union takes ‘caveat emptor’ to an entirely new level,” his mom said. Terry looked at her in confusion. “That’s Latin for ‘buyer beware.’”
“Oh,” Terry said.
They asked a few more questions about care for the cetaceans and how they were looked after when guests came in. Had any of them been harmed by an interaction with a visitor? Had any of the cetaceans harmed a visitor?
“No, none of that,” Terry told them.
“Do you think they’re stable?” Dr. Taumata asked. Trudeau rolled his eyes dramatically.
“I’m sorry?” Terry asked.
“She means are they acting normally,” his mom said.
“Like normal dolphins and orcas?” Terry asked. Dr. Taumata nodded. “No, not really.”
“See,” Dr. Trudeau crowed.
“Wait,” Terry said. “They don’t act like other dolphins and orcas because others can’t talk! How could they be normal? They act fine, just more like people.”
“Outrageous,” Trudeau said. “The opinion of a child.”
“Still worth listening to,” Dr. Taumata said. “Thank you, Terry, for answering our questions. You can go.”
“Can I ask a question?”
The two Human doctors looked at each other, but Taumata answered before Trudeau could say anything to the contrary. “I think that’s the least we can do, young man.” Trudeau sighed and sat back in his chair.
“What’s going to happen to them? The whales and dolphins?”
“The Earth Republic High Court will have to make that decision,” Dr. Taumata said. “I believe, ideally, removal of the implants would be the ethical thing to do.”
“They’re unlikely to survive the procedure,” Klaak said, then shrugged. Terry was surprised to see a talking dinosaur shrugging. “I’m a little surprised they worked at all. Probably because they’re basic pinplants.”
“You mean they’ll die trying to take them out?” He looked at Dr. Taumata in horror.
“That’s what Klaak has explained.” She looked at his mom. “I’m afraid euthanasia is not out of the question, considering what the animals
have been put through.”
“They’re not animals,” Terry said defiantly. “They’re people.”
Dr. Taumata looked at him with a slightly sad expression. “I’m afraid that isn’t what the law says.”
“Well, then the law is wrong,” Terry said, and left. Later his mom came back into their apartment looking tired. “I’m sorry if I was rude,” he said.
She smiled and limped over to give him a hug. “You have no reason to apologize, and you weren’t rude. I think they were.”
“Would they really kill them because of the implants?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I just don’t know.”
“I’ll do anything to keep that from happening,” Terry said. “Anything.”
“Thanks, Son,” she said, and gave him another hug.
* * * * *
Chapter 16
PCRI, Molokai, Hawaii, Earth
November 27th, 2036
Terry ate slowly, watching his mother across the table. The turkey had been bought at a local deli, as was the entire meal. She looked tired—more tired than he’d seen her since she’d returned home from the hospital. Doc was sitting next to him, quietly eating, looking out of place.
“Thanks again for inviting me, Terry,” he said. “And you, Mrs. Clark, for having me.”
Terry glanced at his mom when Doc called her Ms. Clark. She glanced up sharply, then nodded and said he was welcome. It wasn’t public knowledge that she’d both refused to put up bail money for Dr. Matthew Clark and also filed for divorce more than a month ago. All anyone in town knew was that Terry’s father was still in Seattle, and still in jail.
Yui though, of course, knew it all. He’d also invited her to Thanksgiving dinner. She had to stay with her family, though she’d wanted to go with Terry. Especially after he’d told her about the divorce.
Later, after dinner, they sat in the living room overlooking the cetaceans’ tanks. Doc and Terry’s mom were drinking wine, and Terry had hot chocolate. Quiet music was playing, and for some reason, Terry felt it was awkward, and he didn’t know why. It turned out he wasn’t the only one, because his mom suddenly said something.
“I never thanked you,” she said to Doc.
“For what?”
“You’ve been a real friend to Terry. He’s had so much fun learning to dive; it’s all he talks about.”
Doc smiled and nodded. “Yui and he are great kids. When I caught them bumming around the docks, I felt like I was rescuing a couple of wayward kittens.”
His mother slowly turned to skewer Terry with a jaundiced stare. Terry smiled and looked down at his hot chocolate. “Bumming around the docks, eh?”
“We were looking around, you know?”
“I’m sure,” his mother said, then smiled. She chuckled, and Terry let his breath out.
“Mrs. Clark?” Doc started.
“Madison is fine,” she said.
Doc smiled and continued, “I don’t want to spoil the mood, but can you tell me how the court case is going?” Her mouth thinned, and she looked at Terry.
“He means the one to take the cetaceans away,” Terry said quickly.
“Oh, right,” she said, casting another glance at her son. “Well, after the gag order was put in place, the press has been hounding us all pretty badly.”
“I’m sure,” Doc said, “I had one show up at school right before the break. Caught him trying to sneak into the cafeteria. Principal Landau wanted to press charges.”
“We’ve moved through several motions, and right now both sides are in a discovery phase. I’m not a lawyer, but it involves a lot of questions. The high court hasn’t tried many cases, and they’re hesitant to create precedent. There are animal rights groups trying to get the cetaceans, all cetaceans, declared sentient beings with full rights under the Earth Republic Bill of Rights. The world FDA body is trying to get involved, suggesting the pinplants are unlicensed medical devices. Luckily the court dismissed their claim, because the cetaceans aren’t ‘people’ by definition.”
“Unless the animal rights groups win,” Doc added.
“Yes, there is that. One of the problems we have now is that the religious nutjobs have gotten involved.”
“The big churches? Like the Pope, and stuff?”
“No, thankfully. The Vatican has stayed out of it so far. There’ve been a couple edicts from the usual middle eastern sources, of course. I never thought I’d be glad Iran wasn’t around anymore.”
Doc grunted and nodded. He knew only too well.
“The problem with the religious types is this Faith of the Abyss,” she said.
“The ones based on the orcas’ god, Shool?” Terry asked.
“Yeah, them. They went from loons to well-funded loons almost overnight.”
Terry remembered the birth of that—the people who’d show up every day to listen to Kray give a sermon on the god of the deep, how it had created the world, starting in the oceans, and gone on from there. “But Kray talks about Shool being a unifier,” Terry complained. “How Shool wants all creatures on Earth to live together in peace.”
“The Faith of the Abyss thinks cracking some skulls might speed things along. They’ve been protesting outside the courthouse in Sau Paulo, and here most days.” She looked outside toward the ocean, almost like she expected to see them rappelling down the side of the institute.
“What about your husband?”
She glanced at Terry again, who was stirring his now-cold hot chocolate into a froth. “He’s still in jail in Seattle. The feds have custody, and those charges are separate.”
Doc looked at her for a long moment, glanced at Terry, then the empty chair where Terry’s father would have sat. After a second, he nodded and finished his glass of wine.
“Well, it’s been great, Madison,” he said.
“You’re welcome to stay,” Madison said. “Plenty of wine.”
“It’s a bit of a drive back to Krispin,” he said. She looked confused. “My boat.”
“Oh,” she said. “You live on it?”
“We’re good friends,” he said and winked. “It looks like it might rain, too.” He got up, and she escorted him to the door. He took her hand and gently shook it. “Thanks for dinner.”
“You’re welcome in our home anytime,” she said.
“See you at school after the break,” he said to Terry.
“No time for a dive?”
“Other work,” he said. “Sorry.” With a wave, he was out of the apartment and heading for the elevator.
Terry turned to his mom as soon as the elevator door closed. “Mom, why couldn’t you at least get dad out of jail?”
“His problems are his own.”
“It’s Thanksgiving, Mom.”
“Yes, I noticed.” She limped back and poured herself another glass of wine.
Terry made a face, but decided not to continue that line of conversation. He was learning, it seemed. “How long do you think before the court rules?”
“The lawyers say it could be as long as a year, or as little as two months. The high court is too new; there’s no real precedent, as I said earlier. Our bigger problem is money.”
“We still have people paying to talk to the bottlenoses and orcas,” he said. She nodded. Terry had been instrumental in getting her to allow the encounters. The interest was many times higher even then when his father had charged for encounters. However, Terry had argued the chances for the cetaceans to meet and talk with people was good for them, and they’d agreed when Madison had asked them.
Eventually Dr. Hernandez and Dr. Patel had also asked her to allow the face-to-face meetings to continue, and for the institute to charge a modest amount for it. She contacted the government representatives though her lawyer and explained it to them. Dr. Taumata herself called and said it was permissible, as long as the time and number of visitors were kept within reason, so they’d begun again. Three days a week—on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday—for 2 hours. There were lines e
very day, rain or shine.
The bottlenoses were, of course, thrilled. The orcas seemed to enjoy company as well, the Wandering Pod more so than the Shore Pod. Terry decided to look for a chance to find out why. He got a chance the next day.
* * *
The institute was empty the day after Thanksgiving. Most of the staff were at home, so naturally Terry took the chance to feed on all three groups. It was the ideal opportunity to catch some private time with the orcas. There was only a single government intermediary on site, and he stayed in the security office, playing with his computer.
Nobody gave Terry a second look when he slipped back into the orca encounter area and spotted one of them lazily floating on the surface. It was a female named Moloko, whom he’d seldom spoken to. She had bright white markings that were probably the reason for her name, which meant milk in Russian. He gently slapped the surface, and she looked up at him with a huge eye.
“What want?”
“How come your pod is so sad?” Terry asked.
“People want learn Shool.”
“What people?” Terry asked.
“People before.”
“Before all the changes?”
“Yes. Before. Now no come.”
Terry understood now. The attendants who took admission now had digital facial recognition and were instructed to deny entry to a list of people who were members of the Faith of the Abyss, or just FA, as they were often referred to in the press. The group had held a protest outside the institute only the day before Thanksgiving.
“They were bad people,” Terry tried to explain.
“How bad?”
That’s not an easy one to explain, Terry thought.
“Kray say they want learn Shool.” Another orca on the surface nearby was looking at him. It was the male named Byk. “Learn Shool good.”
“They’re hurting people,” Terry said.
Kray surfaced right in front of Terry, making him gasp in surprise. Being only centimeters from a five-ton apex predator was disconcerting, even knowing the orcas had never treated man as prey. “Why they hurt?” Kray asked.
“They’re desperate to get in here,” Terry told him. “To see you.”
