Unsaid: A Novel (35 page)

“That’s not the—”

“And if I could convince you about German shepherds as a breed, how hard would I need to work to get you to rethink Saint Bernards and poodles?”

“Objection!” Mace calls out above some laughter from the benches.

“Sustained,” Allerton rules.

“It is not the fact that Cindy is only one chimpanzee that is so troubling, Mr. Colden,” Jannick volunteers. “It is the fact that Dr. Cassidy is only one human.”

“But you would agree that she is the one human that cared the most about this one chimpanzee?” David asks.

“Of course.”

“Don’t you think that matters?”

“No, in fact, I don’t. I think it is the problem. Dr. Cassidy cares so much that she sees what isn’t there.”

“But isn’t communication a process of creating meaning between the participants? Doesn’t that require a willingness to share? To at least care enough to share?”

“Your whole argument presumes that this animal perceives a
unique emotional connection with Dr. Cassidy and is motivated by that relationship to communicate, but the only evidence of that connection is the very act of communication that you are trying to prove. It is one giant tautology.”

“Actually, Dr. Jannick, I thought my argument only presumed that Cindy, like everyone else in this courtroom, would communicate the most with the person she liked the best. Mr. Dryer’s ex-wives don’t speak to him at all,” David says, pointing to Max, who nods in agreement. “But that doesn’t mean they can’t. They just wisely choose not to.”

The laughter from the benches is cut short by Mace’s shout of “Objection!”

“Withdrawn,” David says, having made his point. “You heard about the video clip from yesterday, right?” David asks.

“I heard about it and I’ve since reviewed it.”

“You didn’t know about that interaction before yesterday, did you?”

“No.”

“Dr. Cassidy told you, however, that someone else had communicated with Cindy, right?”

“She did say that, but there was no proof of it.”

“Now that you’ve seen it, you really can’t deny that Dr. Cassidy succeeded in replication, can you?”

“Mr. Colden,” Jannick says sympathetically, “I realize that this case has certain emotional connections for you—”

“Please just answer the question.”

“I’m trying to. That snippet of interaction on the tape that I saw is not evidence of real replication, regardless of what you might want to believe. The replication that I’m talking about means demonstrable, spontaneous, context-appropriate communication
under controlled conditions. I have no idea what the circumstances were on that video. For all I know, Dr. Cassidy could have been prompting Cindy behind your wife’s back.”

At Jannick’s mention of the word
wife
, the courtroom stirs. I can hear the word whispered in the benches.

David speaks over the murmur. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

“I believe what I see. I don’t have the luxury of just following a tug on my heartstrings. My responsibility is—was—to administer a program critical for advanced research that can save humans from debilitating diseases and death. I was required to make difficult choices. I needed proof before I potentially sentenced thousands or tens of thousands to certain death because I stopped authorizing research on the one species that can give us answers.”

“But you have doubts, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Every rational scientist does. Chimpanzees are beautiful creatures, remarkable, really. But I didn’t make these rules. You want to make a complaint, do it during Friday-night services or Sunday mass. And if you’ve got another way to find cures, then I’d love to hear it. If not, then I suggest you step out of the way.”

“Get out of the way so Cindy can be destroyed, that’s what you mean?”

“Objection,” Mace calls out.

“Sustained,” Allerton rules.

“I have nothing further for this witness,” David says.

Jannick addresses the jury directly. “If there was another way, believe me—”

“I said, I have nothing further!”

Mace rises before David returns to his seat. “But replication
wasn’t the only reason you recommended against renewing the grant, was it, Dr. Jannick?” Mace asks.

“No, of course it wasn’t. I also had concerns about the methodology of Dr. Cassidy’s research itself. While Dr. Cassidy claims that Cindy has a cognitive age equivalent of four, there’s no way to rule out the issue of testing bias given the fact that the tester’s hands are all over, so to speak, the method of communication.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s in the ILP itself. Although Dr. Cassidy has indeed correctly stated that the ILP will estimate whether Cindy is signing a word within certain parameters, she neglected to tell the court that the estimate has an error frequency of at least ten percent and probably a lot more.”

“Meaning?” Mace asks.

“Meaning that for every ten signs that we say Cindy makes, one will be not only wrong, but not a sign at all—Dr. Cassidy will see a word where one was not even intended.”

“What’s the impact of the error?”

“By my calculation, that alone could reduce Cindy’s CAE by a year or more. Combine that with the fact that ILP has never been validated for a primate or for ASL and I think you start to see that Dr. Cassidy’s work presumptively is of doubtful validity. Dr. Cassidy went into this project with the assumption that chimpanzees can learn and use human language, and she built the ILP already pregnant with that assumption. The program looks for an intention to make meaning where none may actually exist.”

“Was there any other factor that led you to recommend that the grant not be extended?” Mace asks.

“Yes. I have to say that in the final year of the project, I began to get concerned about Dr. Cassidy’s relationship with the primate. She seemed to be closing herself off from all other work and outside
professional contacts. She stopped returning my calls, and others at NIS told me the same thing.”

“What was your concern, Dr. Jannick?” Mace asks.

“Certainly her scientific objectivity was in jeopardy. This would not be the first time that a researcher crossed a boundary with a primate specimen, particularly in multi-year or open-ended research projects. It happens, and it never ends well in my experience. A grant is not renewed and the researcher takes the rejection personally; the specimen is somehow ‘theirs’ or there’s some nefarious conspiracy to steal the researcher’s work. There is actually a name for it—the Lefaber syndrome. I blame myself for not paying attention to the early signs.”

“Thank you, Dr. Jannick,” Mace says. “I hope we can now let you return to your other important matters.”

“Anything further of this witness, Mr. Colden?” Allerton asks.

“Just one more minute,” David says as he rises. “You are criticizing Dr. Cassidy because she assumed that the subject she was working with was attempting to use language.”

“Correct.”

“She went into this experiment to determine ‘how’ language was used and not ‘if’ it was used?”

“Basically, yes. The assumption of intention is embedded.”

“Big deal,” David challenges.

“Pardon?”

“I mean we always assume that humans are intending to convey some information to a listener when they speak, right? And that they are attempting to do so in a way that can be understood by the listener. Their intentions can be encoded in complicated and differing ways that often depend on context, but we assume they are trying to say something that will be heard, right?”

“I guess so.”

“And there’s a reason we make these assumptions: If we don’t, we cannot study the language of humans—everything becomes random and, therefore, meaningless. Isn’t that right?”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Meaningless, Dr. Jannick. That’s a pretty depressing and small view of the natural world, isn’t it?”

Jannick ignores the question. “You’re making a comparison that has no scientific predicate.”

“All I’m saying is, why not come to the table with the same rules and assumptions for chimpanzees as you do for humans? Assume that they are trying to communicate—that they are trying to reach you—with all the tools they have in their non-human arsenal.”

“We make assumptions for humans because we—”

“What? Because we are human, too. That’s really what’s going on here, isn’t it? We just love to hear ourselves speak!”

“Objection!” Mace stands. “Mr. Colden is just badgering!”

“I’ll withdraw the question,” David says. “Let me ask you this. Taking everything that you’ve just said into account, if you had seen the video of Cindy and my wife before you made the recommendation to terminate the project, would this have caused you to consider extending Dr. Cassidy’s work?”

Jannick waits a long few moments and then whispers an inaudible answer.

“I can’t hear you, Doctor,” David says forcefully.

“I said, ‘I don’t know,’ ” Jannick says a bit louder.

“But one thing you do know—once Cindy is sent back to the general primate population, you’ll never know whether Dr. Cassidy was right, will you? All that work will be irretrievably lost. Potentially the most important breakthrough in primate language studies
over the last decade. Lost,” David says, and then repeats more slowly, “You will never know.”

“Objection!” Mace calls out.

“That’s fine, Your Honor,” David says. “Dr. Jannick doesn’t need to tell us the answer. I think he knows it.”

The courtroom is silent in the aftermath of the exchange.

“Very well,” Allerton says. “If there’s nothing further, you’re excused, Doctor.”

Jannick pushes past the reporters waiting for him and heads quickly for the elevators. I don’t know if David accomplished what he intended, but in Jannick’s face now I notice an all-too-familiar countenance. He is haunted.

“Okay,” Allerton begins. “What do we have—” Allerton’s court clerk cuts him off with a note that he reads immediately. “Now?” he asks her. She nods. Allerton looks at the clock and then tugs on his nose. After a moment, he turns toward the jury. “We will adjourn for lunch. I need to take care of another matter. The joys of being chief judge.” Allerton bangs his gavel and immediately disappears through the door behind the bench.

Ninety minutes later, Allerton returns to the courtroom to find the parties and the spectators waiting for him. “Do you have any other witnesses, Mr. Colden?” Allerton asks.

“No, Your Honor. We are prepared to move to closing argument.”

Mace jumps up. “The prosecution has a very short rebuttal witness to respond to some of the defense’s science claims.”

“Approach,” Allerton commands.

When the lawyers get to the judge’s dais, David is first to speak.
“They already rested, Your Honor. I object to a new prosecution witness at this point. We’ve had no notice—”

“I did say that I’d give the government an opportunity to answer any scientific claims the defense made about Dr. Cassidy’s work,” Allerton says. “I think you clearly opened that door, Mr. Colden. And it seems we can hear the witness without unduly delaying the trial. Step back.”

On the way back to his desk, David repeats one word under his breath—“Damn, damn, damn…”

“What happened?” Chris asks.

Before David can answer her, Mace calls out, “The prosecution calls in rebuttal Dr. Renee Vartag.”

I hear the name just as the maw of my past opens and spits Vartag into the courtroom. Make no mistake; if you just wait long enough, all things do come around.

A
s soon as I see Vartag take the witness stand, I’m abruptly reminded of the words of my old friend Simon—“God’s language is juxtaposition.” I now realize that he was right.

It is not about one time and one place, this courtroom and this testimony. It is about the relationships between, among, within, and across a day, a month, a year, or a life. We’ve been granted—perhaps more so than any other living creature—the ability to derive meaning from contrast, discord, and dissonance. This is our gift and this is also our curse. The language of juxtaposition is more than merely jarring; it is agonizing.

A panoramic vista suddenly opens beneath me. I can’t catch my breath as I see Skippy lying on Clifford’s lap on my living room couch. Skippy’s mouth is open, trying so hard to take in air. I hear a door open somewhere before I can see it. It is the front door to what was once my house, and Sally opens it for Joshua. He is more than somber. He carries a small doctor’s bag.

Not yet. Please, not yet.

But I can’t stay with Skippy. I have no control over this language. Now I can only see Cindy. She lies alone in her cage in the empty lab at the CAPS facility. Her large eyes are open but vacant. She holds to her chest the little doll I handed to her a lifetime ago.

Cindy stirs as she watches the door to the lab while it is unlocked from the other side. The door swings open, and a man dressed in a lab coat and carrying a clipboard enters. He looks familiar at first, but his face is obscured. Then it clears for me. It is Jannick, and he is accompanied by a woman. Jannick carries Cindy’s gloves in his hand.

Cindy quickly moves to the far corner of her Cube and away from Jannick. I hear her whimper.

Then I’m back in the courtroom. Vartag takes the stand and recites her long list of credentials, honors, and professorships, culminating in her recent appointment as the director of NIS.

I swear she hasn’t aged. Her confidence in herself appears to have grown over the years, if that is even possible. I wonder what it must be like to have so much faith in yourself.

Mace asks, “What do you think of Dr. Cassidy’s work at CAPS, Doctor?”

“Not very much, I’m afraid.”

“You’ve reviewed all of her work, as well as the decision not to renew the grant?”

“Yes.”

“What was your opinion?”

“If I had been director at the time, I certainly would not have approved the grant. The premise of the study was flawed at its inception.”

“In what way?”

“It’s all really premised on an anthropomorphic syllogism: I am
sentient, chimpanzees are like us, therefore chimpanzees are sentient; they can learn to communicate in human language because they are so like humans. The scientific truth is that, when it comes to communication and language usage, chimpanzees are not at all like us.”