The Whale Song Translation: A Voyage of Discovery To Neptune and Beyond (23 page)

McPinsky dabbed his brow with the paisley handkerchief.

“During a distant epoch,” he continued, “a great schism occurred in mammalian evolution when the cetacean ancestors returned to the sea. For the last fifty million years, the mammalian mind in the water has evolved independently of the mammalian mind on land. Think of the magnificent once-in-a-fifty-million-year opportunity to build a bridge across that great divide, and to reunite with a potentially kindred intelligence on our very own planet!” He thumped the podium. “If we dare to ask the brave questions, imagine the surprises we might learn about our cetacean earth mates.”

After an interminable silence, the dean finally answered. “Damn you, Theodosius! What can I say in rebuttal? As usual, your arguments are quite compelling. The whale sushi comment reminded me of a favorite science fiction story of my youth. ET’s had landed on the White House lawn in a display of friendship and with the promise of the gift of advanced knowledge. As evidence of their good intentions, they presented the president with the gift of a book entitled,
To Serve Man
. Unfortunately, when it was too late to alter mankind’s morbid fate, a brilliant scientist decoded the alien text, which ultimately turned out to be a cookbook of recipes for preparing human flesh. I can’t have anything like that on my conscience. You win. I move that we approve funding for the experiment.”

“Excellent. But actually, Robert,” McPinsky retorted, “the whale sushi comment reminded me of my favorite meal: homemade gefilte fish with red beet horseradish. My mother called it Jewish sushi. Let’s go out for lunch the next time I’m in California.”

“All right, all right, I’ll second the dean’s motion,” said Prescott, as coolly as if he had shed all vestiges of personal resentment. Like a snake sloughing its skin, thought Dmitri. He had long been sure that Richard Prescott was a student of Machiavelli’s
The Prince.
Dmitri studied the bureaucrat’s pallid, expressionless face. He surmised that Prescott had decided it was more expedient to defer this battle until he could dictate the means to achieve his own ends.

Chris Gorman made it unanimous. “How can I refuse the illustrious professor, especially after imagining myself as a defendant in some future cetacean Nuremberg tribunal? PICES will contact Dr. Dmitri’s team and initiate preparations for the experiment.”

McPinsky, as usual, had the last word. “I wish to thank you, ladies and gentlemen. I would like to end the meeting with my favorite quotation from Einstein. ‘The pursuit of truth and beauty is a sphere of activity in which we are permitted to remain children all our lives.’ And so I say to you, my colleagues, ‘Let us play.’”

C
OLLUSIONS OF AN
A
CADEMIC
H
IT
M
AN

Southern California Coast—one month later

Richard Prescott scanned a sweeping ocean and coastal vista. The swells began far offshore, yet he could still see their faint beginnings. Rolling toward the bay beneath him, their dimensions increased moment by moment. Surging into the cove, they crashed through a field of offshore boulders and sea stacks, spewing white clouds of foam. They continued relentlessly onward until they exploded into the bluffs and evaporated into the mist.

The SoCalSci administrator sipped a first cup of morning coffee, admiring the white water spectacle from the deck of his cliff-top home. He reflected upon his good fortune: the result of a lifetime of channeling the work ethic and conservative values his parents had impressed upon him. Yet, even as he savored the gritty, Turkish-brewed café noir, the conflicting issues of a moral dilemma gnawed upon his conscience.

He knew he wasn’t a bad person. In fact, like most of his friends and colleagues, he felt compassion for the whales. When vacationing in Mexico and during family outings to Sea World, he’d been captivated by their sociable behavior. Richard’s children had grown up loving the big creatures, and both he and his wife contributed to marine mammal protectionist causes. However, his long-held philosophical perspective was at stake. He had been raised to value the preservation of the system that nurtured him. As in the battle between the waves and rocks below, Richard Prescott knew it was his duty to act as the agent of resistance to the waves of change that threatened his cherished institution.

During last month’s committee meeting, he had agreed to abide by the group’s decision, and to fund David Dmitri’s collaborative experiment with the Pacific Institute for Cetacean Educational Studies. Nearly every day since then, he had struggled to reexamine the implications of Dmitri’s proposal. He felt appalled that the university was funding an experiment to engage whales in an “advanced intellectual exercise.” This sounded more like the lurid drivel of tabloid headlines on supermarket magazine racks than the activities of a respectable institution. Any leaks to the media could harm the university’s reputation. And besides, Dmitri was a protégé of that cursed McPinsky. The man had publicly ridiculed Richard, three years ago, during the successful sub-rosa campaign to oust the old troublemaker from SoCalSci. For years, Richard’s father had warned him about the arrogance of ivory-tower professors who thought they were superior to men of the world like themselves, whose management and business skills kept their institutions running smoothly.

Now, after days of intense soul-searching, consulting both his wife and pastor, Richard had regained his equilibrium. Being a man of action, he had decided to reverse the course of his decision, and after tireless research, he had crafted a plan.

During last month’s funding meeting, he had put the fear of God into Gorman, and now he was really going to yank the marine biologist’s chain. A significant chunk of PICES’s budget was subsidized by a generous grant from the University of Hawaii’s College of Marine Sciences. Richard hoped to capitalize on a longstanding relationship spawned during his student days. A former fraternity brother and fellow business major, Harvey Padgett, was the current chief administrator of research funding at the University of Hawaii.

After attending the two meetings on his morning schedule, Richard returned to his office for a quick lunch and to contact his counterpart using a new voice-activated Internet phone. “Hello Harvey. It’s your long-lost amigo, Richard Prescott.”

“Richard, you old devil,” replied Padgett.

“It’s been too long since we last spoke. I wouldn’t mind trading places with you and your hardscrabble existence there in Honolulu.”

“I still laugh to tears every time I think about that stunt we pulled on our engineering rivals across the street.”

They reminisced about the fraternity hazing incident of their youth. Their frat brothers had scattered an incriminating heap of empty beer cans and liquor bottles about their honor-society rivals’ front yard and doorstep. They had then phoned the campus police to report an out-of-control party.

Prescott chortled. “Those arrogant engineering geeks who looked down their noses at us business majors only got what they deserved.”

“It
was
diabolically clever, and I still think we should have used more beer cans.”

“No need. The cops fell for it. And do you remember the priceless expression on their dazed faces when the police busted in on them at 3 a.m.?”

“You always
were
the clever politician back then, participating in one steering committee or another. That’s why I’m pretty certain this isn’t strictly a social call, unless, like most of my other ‘long-lost buddies,’ you’re seeking insider tourist tips for a trip to the Islands.”

“You could always read me, Harvey. Well, as a matter of fact, I have some interesting information. It’ll cross your desk sooner or later. Speaking of engineering geeks, some of our SoCalSci faculty members are collaborating with the Pacific Institute for Cetacean Educational Studies. In my humble opinion, their venture threatens to expose both of our institutions to an embarrassing public backlash.”

“What’s new about that? In our precarious positions, we always struggle to balance the opposing forces of academic freedom and bureaucratic censorship.”

“My dear Harvey, what if the expression of academic freedom transgresses beyond the frontiers of the scientific method to the netherworld of New Age quackery?”

“Can you be a bit more specific? I have a very high regard for Chris Gorman’s organization. They do cutting-edge research and perform a great public service to educate the community about whales, specifically our local humpback population.”

“But they’ve gone wacko, Harvey! Based on some computer printout from one whale song, they claim to have discovered a secret language and a highly evolved intellect. Would you believe they’re going to challenge them to a game of chess or checkers or whatever?”

“Hmmm, if this plan is as ludicrous as it sounds, then of course we won’t fund it.”

“If word spreads to the public at large, it could incite a PR firestorm. New Age fruits, nuts, and flakes will converge upon Maui as if it were Woodstock or Burning Man. On the other hand, religious fundamentalists will condemn our university-sponsored experiment as pagan blasphemy. For God’s sake, Harvey, we’ll be powerless to control the nightmare. The universities’ reputations and funding will be threatened, and both you and I will likely become unemployment statistics.”

“That sounds very distressing indeed. Okay, Richard, I’ll contact Gorman and see what he has to say for himself.”

“Thanks, Harvey, that’s all I ask. Text me after you’ve reminded the PICES director about the downside of engaging in dubious marine biological research. Have a lovely day.”

At the completion of the call, Richard felt relieved, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Indeed, the great weight of a whale, he chuckled to himself. He thought of the famous Latin phrase from his youth, “Alea jacta est,” uttered by Julius Caesar when the Roman army crossed the Rubicon. Yes, Richard thought, “The die has been cast.” He would not be denied. If Padgett couldn’t persuade Gorman to alter his course, then he would find another way to rock the PICES boat.

R
ESEARCH IN
P
ARADISE

Pacific Institute for Cetacean Educational Studies, Kihei, Maui—late February

“Pinch me, boss!” Andrew called above the howling wind. “I can’t believe the university is sponsoring us on an all-expenses-paid research trip to paradise.”

A mere six weeks since their winter-break vacation and after a direct flight from the mainland, it was a déjà vu for SoCalSci Associate Professors David Dmitri and Greg Bono. Their Mustang raced through the cane fields hugging Maui’s Mokulele Highway 350 en route to the Pacific Institute for Cetacean Educational Studies. This time, however, they were here on a mission of discovery, accompanied by Dmitri’s research assistants. Andrew and Seema were wide-eyed and chatty in the back seat of the convertible. This was their maiden voyage to the Hawaiian Islands. Dmitri pointed in the direction of Haleakala as he shouted the story of their fateful encounter with Melanie.

“I’m really looking forward to meeting your friend.” Seema raised her voice so Dmitri could hear her in the driver’s seat.

Her comment echoed Dmitri’s own anticipation. “You won’t have to wait very long,” he replied, “since she’s attending today’s meeting at the whale institute. After we meet with Gorman’s team, Greg and I will give you the grand tour of Haleakala and Melanie’s perch at the LURE Observatory.”

“Maui is even more beautiful than I imagined,” said Seema. “A vast sugar bowl of cane fields waving their welcome, and surrounded by towering mountains. I can’t wait to see the ocean.”

Greg’s head had been swiveling sharply in order to observe everyone’s lip movements. “Dmitri, let’s indulge Seema and take a ten-minute detour to McGregor Point. The turnoff is just ahead.”

“Absolutely, positively!” Dmitri shouted with gusto.

As Dmitri navigated the curving section of oceanfront highway, he counted the minutes until he’d cuddle Melanie in his arms. Ever since their last embrace, he had longed for this moment. When they pulled into the cliff top parking lot, they observed an animated group of tourists gesturing at a disturbance in the water. They spilled out of the vehicle and melted into the crowd.

“What’s all the fuss about?” Andrew asked the nearest bystander.

“Just wait a minute.” The congenial senior citizen spoke with a Texas twang. “There, look,” she pointed. The spectators gasped in delight as a baby humpback breached alongside its parents.

“Thank you, Doctor Dmitri.” A tear rolled down Seema’s cheek. She spread her arms as if to encompass the panoramic ocean view. “I’m so happy. The water is so shimmeringly blue, and we’re spectacularly greeted by these amazing creatures. I wish my family could be here. A photo is totally inadequate.”

“It is a magical place, and the reason I keep coming back.” Dmitri felt the depth of his conviction as he high-fived Andrew. “Just don’t forget we’re here to conduct some serious research with these beings. Let’s think of them as our highly motivated research subjects reporting early for duty.”