Becoming Animals

by Olga Werby

  Mele considered what Toby was showing her, then made a star-shaped blob appear on one of the leaves of the kelp.

  Good girl, Mele. Good girl. But starfish look like this. Toby focused super hard on the image of the starfish, adding details like little bumps along the arms and a dark spot at the intersection. And if we flip it, it looks like this. She rotated the starfish in her mind’s eye and showed Mele the little white tentacles that attached the starfish to underwater surfaces.

  If Toby didn’t have so much experience riding Rufus, Miny, and Twiggy, all of whom relied heavily on non-linguistically structured memories, she’d never have been able to pull this off. Even Cory, who had some word-like cries, had a sensorimotor orientation to the world. Toby needed to use all that she’d learned in the last five years of riding to communicate with Mele.

  Mele imagined eating the imaginary starfish. It was communicated with emotion and a focus on Mele’s stomach. Toby discerned a question of sorts. To the best of her ability, she interpreted it as: Taste good?

  Toby opened her eyes and saw Rider sitting next to her. Vikka was awake now too, drinking tea at the little table. Kyle was driving.

  “Do orcas eat starfish?” Toby asked.

  Both Vikka and Rider pulled out their cell phones in comical synchronicity and started typing away, looking up the answer to Toby’s question.

  Rider found the answer first. “No, I think. Orcas prefer larger prey. They’ll even eat birds, if they can catch them.”

  “I guess I’d better keep Cory out of Mele’s reach,” Toby said. She dived back in Mele.

  Yucky, Toby emoted. She tried to remember a bitter taste.

  After a few moments, Mele spat out the imaginary starfish and regurgitated something from her empty stomach in real life. The vomiting sensation and hunger overwhelmed Toby’s senses and she had to pull out.

  “Are you okay?” Vikka was hovering over her face.

  “I’m fine. I think I was a bit too successful communicating the unpalatable nature of starfishes.”

  “Glad that worked,” Vikka said. “From our side, it looked like you were about to throw up.”

  “I think Mele did and that made me gag.”

  “Would you like some water or some food?” Vikka asked.

  “Water would be nice.” Toby had a bitter, acrid taste at the back of her throat.

  Vikka gave her a cold bottle from the small fridge.

  “So the communication is working?” Rider asked. “Kyle filled us in on your difficulties before.”

  “I hope you weren’t talking to me in confidence,” Kyle said from the driver’s seat. “I figured the more brains we apply to the problem—”

  “It’s fine, I don’t mind,” Toby said. She drank her water. “Okay, I’m ready to go back in again. Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck,” Vikka and Rider said at the same time.

  Toby and Mele played the “What’s this?” game, with Toby thinking up various animals and objects, trying to find those that were familiar to Mele, and Mele “picking them up” and either chewing on them or pushing them around in the imaginary water tank. Toby thought of balls and hoops, silver fish and squid. And each time she imagined a new thing, she thought of its name and designated it as either a food or a toy. Mele seemed to think that fish were both—she liked to play with her food.

  There was a playfulness in general about Mele, but Toby couldn’t judge whether it was due to the orca’s young age or whether it was a personality trait that would stay with her as she grew older. Either way, Toby enjoyed it. Her abbreviated childhood hadn’t involved a lot of playful time.

  This is Cory, Toby thought to Mele. She imagined her raven in all her shiny black glory.

  Mele tried to catch and eat imaginary Cory, but Toby made her raven fly into the make-believe sky. The sensation of flying was so visceral that it took Toby’s breath away. She loved flying.

  After a few moments, Mele sent her an image of a flying whale. Toby laughed and Mele laughed along with her.

  Mele understood flying much better than Toby thought she would. Flying was like swimming in the sky—there was freedom of movement in all direction, exhilaration, pure joy. And Mele had seen the birds at the park swoop down from the air and try to steal her silvery fish when the trainers brought a bucketful for dinner.

  Cory is special, Toby tried to communicate. A friend. A flying bird friend. She wasn’t sure Mele completely got that, but she thought she’d at least gotten across the idea that Cory wasn’t food or a toy. It was a start.

  Thinking about Cory made Toby feel guilty for neglecting her friend, her other self. She wondered if she could use the same technique of visual images to explain Mele to Cory. It was worth a try. She wanted them to be friends. Between Cory and Mele, she would have the sky and the ocean covered. The thought gave Toby a rush of true happiness and Mele basked in her reflected joy.

  Toby suddenly noticed the water was no longer vibrating—the whale caravan had stopped.

  “Did the orcas arrive at SeaWorld?” Toby asked.

  “Toby?”

  Toby opened her eyes. The motor home had parked as well and all three of Toby’s minders—Kyle, Rider, and Vikka—were bending over her. Something bad must have happened.

  “What?” Panic edged into Toby’s voice. On the other end of the BBI, Mele was scared too.

  “You’ve got to pull out,” Kyle said.

  This must really be bad, Toby thought. They don’t want Mele to feel my reaction. She disconnected the BBI.

  Vikka took Toby’s hand and pressed it into both of hers. “Spila didn’t make it,” she said.

  “What?”

  “The ride was just too much for the young calf. Mele had you…but Spila was all alone. He couldn’t handle it. I’m truly sorry.”

  Tears burst from Toby’s eyes. She didn’t know Spila very well, but Mele did. She would be devastated.

  “When will she know?” Toby asked.

  “They’re about two hours away from the water park,” Kyle said. “They’ll deliver the body someplace else. Mele and her mother will never see him.”

  “But they’ll know,” Toby cried. “Kona will call for him and they’ll know.”

  “Can you stay with Mele for the last part of the journey? She needs you,” Vikka said. “You don’t have to tell her. Just keep her company until she can be with her mother, okay?”

  “Yes,” Toby whispered. She couldn’t stop herself from crying; she was mourning her brother. She had been looking forward to getting to know him. “I need a few moments, please.”

  Vikka held her while she cried, rocking her gently, kissing her hair. Toby’s mother had done that when she was little.

  “I’ll get us back on the road,” Kyle said. “We’ve got about another fifteen hours to go.” He returned to the wheel.

  Toby wanted to sleep. She was just so tired. But Mele needed her.

  She pulled away from Vikka and tried to smile. “I don’t think it’s working,” she said. “I can’t make myself happy by just smiling.”

  “No,” Vikka said, “but you can fake it for Mele.” She wiped away Toby’s tears. “Ready?”

  Toby nodded.

  Twenty-Two: Half a Day Later

  The whale caravan had made it to SeaWorld in San Diego, where Mele and Kona were reunited. Toby was able to keep Mele occupied until the very end, to the moment the young orca saw her mother. And then Toby simply passed out from exhaustion.

  “Did you hear her?” Vikka asked low enough not to wake Toby. She was worried about how much this whole thing was taking out of the girl. But they all knew Toby had only months to live and they needed to ensure these were very productive months.

  “It’s not the first time she’s made those sounds,” Kyle said.

  “It’s like she’s trying to speak whale.”

  “For all we know that might be exactly what she is trying to do,” Kyle said. He was riding Grock while they talked and his face was vacant of emotion. “I�
��ve been recording her calls and Will has been recording the whales’ calls on his end. It’ll be interesting to compare.”

  “You’re talking like a scientist,” Vikka said with a sad smile. “I knew hanging out at the lab would rub off.”

  “I’m glad you approve, Dr. Shapiro. But if Toby is trying to mimic Mele or Kona, wouldn’t we want to know that?”

  “Of course. It’s a great idea to check. Do you know when they plan to move the orcas again? Has Spila’s…has the incident changed the schedule?”

  “Not really. George said they still want at least a week to rest the whales before attempting to get them up north. He believes that since Kona and Mele will be traveling in the same tank on this leg of the trip, it’ll be less traumatic. In fact, without Spila, there’ll more room—”

  “Shh! She’ll hear you,” Vikka hissed at Kyle.

  Grock puffed out all his feathers and started moving back and forth on his perch. He was protective of Kyle and didn’t like when he perceived a slight toward his human.

  “It’s all right, Grock,” Vikka said soothingly. “We’re just talking.”

  Grock settled back down and returned to preening.

  “Sorry,” Kyle said. “That was thoughtless of me. All I’m trying to say is that the tank was built for three so the additional space will probably be helpful.”

  “It’s a very small silver lining,” Vikka said. “When Mele and Kona are brought together and Spila is not there…. They may not know what happened to Spila, but they’ll mourn his absence. It’s just as difficult for them to lose a child as it is for humans. In the wild, mothers have been observed carrying their stillborn calves for weeks. And in captivity, whales have been seen to sink into depression after the loss of a loved one. This is going to be difficult—for all three of them.”

  “How do we prepare Toby? How do we help her deal?” Kyle asked.

  “She knows loss,” Vikka said. “She’s already lost her mother. And Rufus. She knows viscerally how Mele feels.”

  “I’m worried about amplified emotions,” Kyle said. “The whales would be distressed enough on their own, but with the feedback loop?”

  “What do you suggest?” Vikka asked.

  “Perhaps we can use drugs.”

  “On the whales?”

  “No, on Toby,” Kyle said. “We don’t know the right dosage for whales.”

  “That’s not true,” Vikka said. “Vets have been reducing stress in captive whales at aquatic parks using antidepressants and Valium.”

  “Antidepressants for whales?” Kyle said. “How does one even practice veterinary psychiatry? I mean, if you were riding the animal…”

  “Yes, there are trained veterinary psychiatrists. I’ve been thinking perhaps we should have one on staff—and one trained to use the BBI.”

  “You can be the first,” Kyle said.

  “I’m neither a veterinary doctor nor a trained rider.”

  “But you are a psychologist, of sorts.”

  “Not ‘of sorts.’ I am one.” Vikka gave him an angry look.

  Kyle raised his hands in defense. “Sorry.”

  Vikka shook her head. “We’ve gotten off subject. You were making a suggestion about Toby?”

  “More an idea than a suggestion. We know we won’t be able to stop Toby from riding Mele and I don’t think we should even try. Right now, Mele is Toby’s only chance for survival, so we need Toby to help the young whale deal with her stress and grief. The risk is we might make things worse—if Mele’s grief amplifies through her interaction with Toby. So…if a medication—Valium or Xanax or whatever—can help Toby cope, then it’ll help Mele cope.”

  “I don’t know,” Vikka said. “I’m not a medical doctor.”

  “When did that stop us?” Kyle pointed at the IV. “Are you giving her antibiotics in that?”

  Vikka nodded.

  “See? We’re already playing doctor. I’m just saying we shouldn’t limit ourselves. We’re way past that point.”

  “You’re right,” Vikka said in small voice.

  Major Evans and George leaned over the rails of the whale enclosure. Below them, Mele and Kona swam together.

  “Why didn’t the other cub make it?” Major Evans asked.

  George looked around. He didn’t want unwanted ears on this conversation. “It’s a calf, sir. And I have no idea what happened to Spila. Perhaps he was just too young. Or maybe he had some unknown medical issue. Or maybe both whales would have died and Mele survived only because she was connected to Toby much of the time.”

  “Yes, that’s the obvious difference. And it would be interesting if true,” Evans said. “All these months of planning…”

  George was looking down at the tender swim-play between Kona and Mele. “Take a look at the positioning,” he said. “The mother tries to keep her calf where she can observe her through her left eye. That’s an anxiety-driven bonding behavior.”

  “Really?” Major Evans seemed interested.

  “There’s new research on mother-baby bonding that shows hemispherical differences—a positional bias. Mothers of many different species tend to cradle their babies on the left side or face to face, so the baby’s and mother’s left eyes can focus on each other.”

  “Is that true for humans as well?”

  “Humans and other primates. Horses. Sheep. Kangaroos. And whales. Kona was separated from her calf and now she’s trying to reestablish the bond. The left eye activates the right hemisphere, of course, and that’s where the cognitive functions of spatial processing, visual attention, reasoning, and problem solving are seated. All of this helps the whale with effective communication.”

  “I thought language was seated in the left hemisphere,” Evans said.

  “It is. But the visual mother-baby bonding tends to reside on the right, nonetheless. And that’s why we’re seeing this circling dance. Mother and daughter swimming about each other.”

  They watched the whales for a few moments before Evans asked, “How’s Toby doing?”

  “Vikka said she’s sleeping now. She’s exhausted. She ended up being plugged into the whale most of the trip.”

  “Are you sure we don’t need additional doctors in there with her?”

  “There’s not much more they’d be able to do for her. Vikka’s keeping her free from infection and helping her breathe. And Lieutenant Davis is there with her.” George didn’t mention Rider, whose involvement was unofficial. He’d been very careful to keep Rider under wraps.

  Major Evans let out a long breath. “I’ll be happier when they’re all at a secure location.”

  “Me too, sir.” Now, with your permission, I think I’ll grab something to eat. It’s been a long week.”

  “Sure. I’ll join you later.” Evans waved to George that he was free to go.

  George walked to a parking lot recently set up with cars for military use. Earlier, he had Martin take care of Will and get him into a well-secured and well-watched hotel room, a five-minute drive away. Now he needed to talk with the professor. Having disposed of the other orca calf, George eliminated Will’s backup plan, as well as pushed back whatever plans Major Evans had in mind. All was set to focus everything on getting Toby transferred into Mele…and taking the control away from Evans and the whole Brats military complex. George was sure it was the right thing to do. He even gave himself a few hours with the zapper to get some clarity on how to proceed. The result was a clear path into the future.

  Toby basked in a warm glow of love. She hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Vikka had tried to be a mother to her, but she wasn’t the same as a real mother, her mother. And she’d had almost no connection with her dad lately. Toby knew he loved her, but with all this moving around and trying to beat the deadline of her life expectancy, he hadn’t any time to spend with her.

  At the back of her mind, Toby felt a twinge of jealousy for Mele. The whale still had a living, loving mother. It was silly. When Toby became one with Mele, that love would be hers to
o, wouldn’t it? Or would it be different? Would the whale mother sense the difference in her child? Would she still love Mele if she was really Toby?

  Could this be the wrong thing to do?

  No one wanted to talk to Toby about the morality of consciousness transfer. It felt like George had ordered people to avoid that subject with her. Every time Toby mentioned how Mele felt different—more person-like that any other animal she’d ridden—people suddenly remembered urgent business elsewhere. It was almost comical, except that it wasn’t.

  The change in the whales’ behavior came on gradually. So gradually, in fact, that Toby didn’t notice it at first. Mele and her mother swam about the new enclosure, investigating the perimeter. They moved together, almost touching, but there was less focus on each other and more on their environment. And while Mele continued to be content, Kona’s demeanor changed. Toby noticed her anxiety before Mele did.

  The swimming became more agitated and Toby knew why. Kona was searching for her other child. Her moans echoed around the tank. She was calling for Spila—Toby was sure of it.

  Mele picked up on it and started to call for Spila too. Toby felt her human chest and throat trying to imitate the sound combination.

  Spila. Spila, the whales cried in unison.

  “Spila,” Toby cried out in the motor home. “Spila!” Tears rolled down her face.

  Kona’s movements became more frantic. She started to head-butt the cement sides of the enclosure. She would crash off, bounce back, do a turn in the water, then swim back, turn, and head-butt the wall again. It was painful to watch.

  Mele didn’t understand what was going on, although she knew that Spila was missing, and she continued to call for her twin brother. But Toby guessed that Kona had figured it out. She would never see Spila again.