The Whale Song Translation: A Voyage of Discovery To Neptune and Beyond

by Howard Steven Pines

  “Please, just bear with me.” Andrew steepled his fingers. “My grandfather was a Zen Buddhist. He told me that patience was a virtue and the search for meaning is revealed in the silent corners of our minds.”

  Seema muttered, “Sounds like you’re quoting from last night’s fortune cookie.”

  “Have you no respect for cultural values other than your own? Anyway, I got a much more clever fortune. ‘Fu-Ling-Yu say: eunuch—man cut out to be bachelor.’”

  Seema responded with a dramatic groan. “My Hindu grandmother once said, ‘Early to bed, early to rise, makes a Brahmin healthy, wealthy, and wise.’”

  “Let’s make a deal. I’ll exchange my world-famous, five-minute shoulder massage for another fifteen minutes with Speakeasy.”

  Seema rotated her head and shoulders. “They are kinda tight. Okay. How can I refuse such a noble offer?”

  Andrew stood, positioning himself behind Seema’s chair. “Close your eyes and relax.” He began to knead both thumbs into her neck and shoulders. “You’ve definitely got some huge knots here.”

  “Ouch, be gentle. Yes, that’s much better.”

  “I’ll have these knots untied in five.”

  Seema sighed with relief as Andrew worked his hands and elbows into the crevices of her upper back. “Ooooh, that feels so good. I never realized you had talents outside of engineering.”

  “Anytime you want, these hands are for hire.”

  “I just might take you up on your offer.” Seema purred as Andrew’s elbows sank into the taut regions of her trapezius and deltoid muscles. “Oh, God, I’m starting to feel like a new person.”

  “Good, then we can work some more.” Andrew sniffed the air. “By the way, your hair smells great.”

  “It’s a family-secret hair conditioner made from cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves.”

  “Like my favorite herbal tea.” Andrew kneaded silently for five more minutes. When he released his grip, Seema turned around and flashed a huge grin.

  “That was wonderful.” She stood and surprised him with a hug. “Thank you.” She pecked him on the cheek.

  Andrew hesitated. Although their relationship had been full of friendly banter, it was more collegial than personal. Now, for the first time, they were cheek-to-cheek. Sensing the warmth of her breath, he reciprocated the hug and gazed into her eyes. The brief spell lingered.

  “Time to work,” they uttered simultaneously and then laughed. With some hesitation, they disengaged.

  Andrew settled into his chair, typed some commands, and stared at the blank screen. To his surprise, a small, circular shape materialized in the middle of the Speakeasy display. Thirty seconds later, after the screen had auto-refreshed, a similar form appeared in a different region of the plot. The sequence of curious shapes persisted over a span of several minutes.

  “What the heck.” Andrew stared and pointed. “These ring figures seem to be popping up in locations all over the frequency plot.”

  “We never saw shapes like these with human speech. It sounds like a barking seal and looks kind of like a bubble. Maybe they’re like whistles.”

  Andrew whistled. “We’re definitely making progress,” he said, “but my brain has finally hit a wall. Let’s call it quits for now, get some sleep, and show this to Dmitri when he’s back from Santa Barbara.”

  “Finally, we agree.” As Seema began to shut down her workstation, her entire body went rigid. She stared straight ahead.

  “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Seema raised an arm in slow motion, like a mime, and pointed at the monitor. As the whale squealed through the speakers, the Speakeasy translated its vocalizations into familiar shapes embedded in a very unfamiliar setting.

  “If you’re seeing what I’m seeing,” Andrew gulped, “please tell me I’m not crazy.”

  Seema faced him, wide-eyed. “You’re not crazy.”

  Andrew turned back to gaze at the figures painted on the computer monitor. “So what are we gonna do about this?”

  “Get some sleep.”

  HITTING THE BULL’S-EYE

  SoCalSci University, Los Angeles, California—one day later

  Dmitri sat at his desk, studying the lecture notes he’d prepared for his afternoon class when Andrew and Seema appeared in the doorway. They seemed tense, and he wanted to put them at ease. “How was your Speakeasy tutorial with Melanie?”

  “She was very nice, very professional.” Seema had a gleam in her eye. “She had us up and running in less than an hour.”

  “She also has a very nice voice.” Andrew accentuated the word “very.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” replied Dmitri. “What’s the scoop on the whale song data? By the way, you both look exhausted.”

  “We pulled an all-nighter.” Seema’s voice sounded dreamy. “But it was worth it. You’ll see.”

  “There’s an intriguing development,” said Andrew. He looked punch drunk with puffy eyelids. “Before we get to that, you should Google this link.”

  Dmitri stared at the sheet of paper Andrew gave him. “What the—”

  “Just enter the link into your browser, boss, and all will be revealed.”

  “Okay, I’ll humor you, but this better be good.” As Dmitri typed, Andrew and Seema circled his desk and stood behind him.

  “That’s it.” Andrew pointed at the picture displayed on Dmitri’s monitor. The headline above the photo read, CONTROVERSIAL OCEAN CROP CIRCLE PHOTO MAY BE LINKED TO WHALES. “Just read the first two paragraphs.”

  Dmitri scanned the article, pawing his hair, squinting at the screen. “What am I supposed to be thinking? It says that an Australian marine biologist studying a satellite photo, allegedly taken in the vicinity of Hawaii, discovered geometric patterns that might be linked to humpback whale activity. ‘Alleged’ and ‘might’ don’t instill much confidence in the credibility of the guy’s theory.”

  “But if you read the fine print,” said Andrew, “he also states that the concentric patterns could be related to humpback bubble-net behavior.”

  “And that’s supposed to prove—”

  “We found a similar pattern in the whale vocalizations,” Seema interrupted.

  “What?” Dmitri heard Seema’s words but they made no sense.

  “We’re as surprised as you are,” replied Andrew.

  “We found a baffling geometric pattern embedded in the Speakeasy translation,” said Seema, “but didn’t know what to make of it. When Andrew stumbled across this Internet story, we thought there might be a connection.”

  “Just come with us, boss.”

  Five minutes later, Dmitri, Seema, and Andrew stood before a bank of three display monitors in the Signal Processing Lab. Andrew initialized the Speakeasy program.

  “Check out the display.” Andrew directed his “first-down” gesture at the central monitor. “The figures being drawn sometimes take sharp turns, just as you’d predicted.”

  “That’s great news.” Dmitri touched the curlicue pattern on the screen. “If you could automate the detection of these inflection points, we could build a statistical database of frequency-pair targets.”

  “We’re way ahead of you, but it’ll take at least a week to launch.”

  “The real reason we called you back,” Seema gushed, “was because of Andrew’s idea to analyze another section of the recording.”

  Andrew replayed the video depicting the circular patterns. “We were pretty surprised to see these small ring shapes appearing at a rate of about once or twice per minute. They seem to be distributed uniformly throughout the plot, over a range of frequencies between 100 and 4,000 hertz.”

  Dmitri studied the screen and massaged his scalp. Finally, he said, “Not the patterns you’d expect for the symbols of the language of a sentient species. My guess is these frequencies correspond to the sounds of whistling.” He strafed the air with a percussive sequence of high-pitched whistles. “Good try, though.”

  “That’s w
hat we thought, too, until we observed the anomalous event. Wait just a few more seconds. There!” Andrew punched a fist toward the monitor.

  Dmitri leaned forward and stared as the Speakeasy translation emerged. An invisible hand, guided by an anonymous cetacean voice, rendered the perfectly round figure of a large circle, followed shortly thereafter by a smaller circle, and finally, by an even smaller one. He could not deny the reality of the image stamped on the screen. A bull’s-eye pattern of three, perfectly concentric circles hovered before his eyes. Before he could speak, the process was repeated with the same implausible detail. The second bull’s-eye was nearly identical to its predecessor and overlaid on top of the first.

  Dmitri gazed without blinking for nearly a full minute, his mind unable to process the data revealed by his own senses. He turned around to face both students. As his eyes darted back and forth, the expression on his brow shifted between skepticism and wonder. He eventually fixed his gaze upon Andrew. “You know, this really isn’t the right moment for a practical joke.”

  Andrew clasped both hands over his face. “Nooooooo!”

  Seema laughed.

  “What?” Dmitri sounded impatient. “I’m right then?”

  Andrew yanked a wallet from his pocket, extracted a ten-dollar bill, and slapped it onto Seema’s waiting hand. Dmitri was befuddled by her triumphant grin.

  “No, boss, you’re dead wrong, but Seema predicted your skeptical response. We placed a wager on it.”

  “Wait a second. You’re telling me this is legit?” He pointed at the screen.

  “We’re as stunned as you are,” replied Seema.

  “Let’s pinch ourselves for a moment.” Dmitri’s voice flowed like molasses. “This could be an acoustic artifact. Since our analytic minds coexist with our imaginations, we’re tempted to perceive patterns where none exist.”

  “Like those old NASA pictures of the giant face on Mars?” offered Seema.

  “That’s a good example. We’re trained from birth to compare patterns we observe to those we’ve stored in our mental databases. Recognition of our mother’s face is our first such experience.”

  “Sometimes, however,” replied Seema, “like the face on Mars, we’re deceived by a pattern that’s a close match to the ones in our memory.”

  “I remember that,” said Andrew. “After NASA examined the same region from different angles and lighting conditions, they realized it looked less like a face and more like an erosion pattern.”

  “Precisely.” Dmitri uttered each syllable with equal emphasis. “Engineers and scientists are trained to use math, logic, and the scientific method to avoid coming to false conclusions. A single, circular pattern has a distinct geometric quality, but we cannot logically infer that this was the intention of the whistler. What we’ve got is a complex form: the frequencies of three highly correlated whistles in a linked geometric relationship. And it satisfies the math criterion. This does not appear to be random. In my mind, there’s a higher probability of the whale’s intention to define some sort of geometrically based symbol. Congratulations on your great detective work.”

  “Not to mention the concentric circular patterns in the water near Hawaii,” murmured Seema.

  “Touché,” replied Dmitri. “The patterns are similar, and if they’re both related to the humpbacks, it could be a real breakthrough. “I say we should investigate further.”

  Dmitri hugged each of his students. Despite their exhaustion, the two were clearly proud. It struck him that they seemed different with each other, but he couldn’t pinpoint how, and in his excitement, he put it out of his mind.

  “So, what’s our next move?” Seema asked.

  Dmitri reached for his cell phone and pressed the speed-dial button. “Good morning, Greg. Are you in the office yet? Good. We need a math expert in the Signal Processing Lab, as soon as possible. There’s something intriguing for you to ponder. Arigato.”

  “Calling in the big guns, boss?”

  “We need a pattern recognition expert, and Dr. Bono is, after all, the mastermind of the geometry of eleven-dimensional hyperspace.”

  “Oh, yeah,” replied Andrew. “Dr. Bono’s recent article in Science . . . his new slant on the mathematics underlying string theory.”

  “Exactly,” said Dmitri. “I’d like a quick resolution to this project, so please don’t take it personally. You two are more than welcome to participate. While we’re waiting, let’s examine some of the other plots.”

  Three minutes later, Greg burst through the lab’s swinging double-doors. He wore a blue and gold L.A. Lakers Championship cap.

  “Professor Bono, I presume,” said Andrew, his tone respectful despite the joking words. “Did the Lakers win last night?”

  Greg mimed a jump shot. “Yep, a Kobe buzzer-beater from beyond the arc. Swish!”

  While Greg examined the circular patterns, he received a ten-minute briefing. “I agree with you,” he finally said. “This could be a significant development. You can count me in, but I’ll need a Speakeasy tutorial.”

  “Absolutely.” Dmitri and Greg sealed the agreement with a fist bump. “Since Seema and Andrew need to catch up on their sleep, let’s all meet here tomorrow at 9 a.m. I’ll rearrange my schedule to work with you.”

  ENGINEERING KARMA

  SoCalSci University, Los Angeles, California—late afternoon

  It was nearly 5 p.m. and Dmitri was back in the office after teaching his afternoon class. “Fred, I’ve attached the PowerPoint files for both lectures to the email. Thanks so much.” With the cursor on the email SEND button, he clicked his mouse, pleased that a department colleague had agreed to substitute teach both of his undergraduate courses on short notice. He had bought two days of freedom to assist Greg in the analysis of the recordings.

  Grabbing a pencil, Dmitri beat the rhythm of a favorite jazz riff against a coffee mug, swiveling and rocking in his chair. The thought of Seema’s and Andrew’s startling Speakeasy observation triggered a familiar tingling sensation in his chest. Even Greg, an inveterate skeptic, had been intrigued by the cryptic bull’s-eye pattern. Was this the proverbial smoking gun of a breakthrough discovery or another false lead in the labyrinthine pursuit of the scientific method? He couldn’t think of anyone more qualified than Greg to help him deduce the significance of the geometric figures in the whale song.

  Dmitri closed his eyes and reflected back to the childhood memory of lazy summer mornings when he could sleep in undisturbed by an alarm clock. He remembered pulling the sheets over his head to create a private sanctuary and listening, spellbound, as the neighbor’s parrot alternately squawked and enunciated perfect Spanish phrases from a backyard cage. At the time, he wondered how a bird could speak a foreign language better than anyone in his fourth-grade Spanish class. This linguistic revelation had been indelibly etched into his young mind, launching a lifelong fascination with sound and language.

  During his father’s final year, Dmitri had grown quite fond of a pair of blue and yellow talking parakeets at the local pet store. A few months after Michael Dmitri’s death and with the onset of her son’s spells of loneliness, Dmitri’s mother purchased the birds as a tenth-birthday present. Just as she had hoped, his devotion to the loquacious budgies had sparked her boy’s emergence from his doldrums.

  Inspired by the neighbor’s parrot, Dmitri had a brainstorm about showcasing his birds’ vocal talents as a school science fair project. After a year of training, the budgies had finally learned to speak the same two phrases in three different languages—English, Spanish, and French. During the fair’s public session, his avian subjects’ multi-lingual pronouncements and the title on his poster board, BIRD BRAIN TRANSLATORS, had delighted the attendees.

  Dmitri’s parakeets often brushed their beaks together in the fashion of kissing. When performed to the squeaky-pitched accompaniment of “Je t’aime, cheri,” the love dance had proved irresistible to his prettiest and most popular sixth-grade classmate, Joanna Barnes. Since the precocio
us Joanna had never previously sought his attention, Dmitri willingly acquiesced to her request for an encore performance.

  On the following afternoon, Dmitri had felt the tickling of “butterflies” in his stomach as he’d escorted the unusually chatty Joanna to his modest ranch home. With his parents at work and his brother still in school, Dmitri, the son of an ice cream man, served up hot fudge sundaes. In the ensuing sugar rush of a second helping, he’d meekly surrendered to Joanna’s maternal play instincts while she’d force-fed him globs of goo and giggled unabashedly as they dribbled down his chin.

  Hearing the sounds of budgies nearby, Joanna had announced she was ready for the show. Dmitri toweled his face, led her into the living room, and prepped his pets for their language lesson. As soon as the birds had commenced their French-kissing ritual, Joanna cooed a melodious refrain of “Je t’aime, cheri, Je t’aime, cheri” and danced around him in an ever-tightening circle. Inching closer and closer, Dmitri would forever remember the moment their noses touched, the sensory rush of Joanna’s rosebud scent mingled with her warm cocoa breath, and her elfin grin as she poked his cheek and whispered, “You missed a spot.” When Joanna licked the creamy residue from his cheek, his entire body quivered like Jell-O. In ultra-slow motion, her lips had glided across his face and down to his mouth, leaving a moist trail and a pleasurable tickling sensation in their wake. When her tongue grazed his lips, Dmitri had experienced a shocking revelation: language wasn’t the only adaptation of the mouth’s primary taste-sensing organ.

  As it turned out, it was the first and last time Joanna would grace him with tactile affection, with the single exception, years later, of a polite handshake as his high school’s homecoming queen. However, he had learned an important lesson on that long-lost afternoon. Science was more than just interesting. Science was way cool, yielding discoveries as unlikely as his first romantic encounter and the enduring, up-close vision of Joanna’s dazzling smile.

  Pleased that his feathered friends had performed so admirably, Dmitri had devised an even more ambitious project for the following year’s fair. In an attempt to assess their mental abilities and rekindle Joanna’s favor, he had taught them phrases for simple addition such as “one plus one is two,” “one plus two is three,” and “two plus two is four.” Once they had mastered those sentences, he’d tested their responses to partial phrases such as “one plus one is” or just “two.” For hours and days on end, he’d prompted them with these test questions but, to his disappointment, their replies were limited to mere mimicry.