Fluke or I Know Why the Winged Whale Sings - By Christopher Moore Page 0,36

half me dreads out." Kona pulled a handful of orphaned dreadlocks from the pocket of his surf shorts. "Going to cost some deep monies to hook these boys back up. I can feel my strength waning without them."

The jailer waived a finger under Kona's nose. "Just so you know, kid, if it had gone the other way - if the Samoan had decided to kill you second - I wouldn't have stepped in so early. You understand?"

"Yah, Sheriff."

"You stay out of my jail, or next time I tell him which end to start on, okay?" The jailer turned to Quinn. "They aren't filing any charges that merit incarceration. They just wanted to make a point." Then he leaned close to Nate and whispered, their height difference making it appear as if he were talking to the scientist's shirt pocket, "You need to get this kid some help. He thinks he's Hawaiian. I see these suburban Rasta boys all the time - hell, Paia's crawling with them - but this one, he's troubled. One of my boys goes that way, I'd pay for a shrink."

"He's not my kid."

"I know how you feel. His girlfriend is cute, though. Makes you wonder how they pick 'em, doesn't it?"

"Thanks, Officer," Nate said. Having shared all the paternal camaraderie he could handle, he turned and walked out into the blinding Maui sun. To Kona, Amy said, "You better now, baby?"

Kona nodded into her shoulder, where he'd been pretending to seek comfort in a nuzzle.

"Good. Then move your hand."

The surfer played his fingers over her bottom like anemones in a tidal wash, anchored yet flowing.

"That's it," Amy said. She snatched a handful of his remaining dreads and quickstepped through the double glass doors, dragging the bent-over surfer behind her.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch," Kona chanted in perfect four/four reggae rhythm.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Spirits in the Night

Nate spent the whole afternoon and most of the evening trying to analyze spectrograms of whale-song recordings, correlate behavior patterns, and then chart the corresponding patterns of interaction. The problem was figuring out what actually defined interaction for an eighty-thousand-pound animal? Were animals interacting when they were five hundred yards away? A thousand? A mile, ten miles? The song was certainly audible for miles; the low, subsonic frequencies could travel literally thousands of miles in deep ocean basins.

Nate tried to put himself in their world - no boundaries, no obstacles. They lived, for the most part, in a world of sound, yet they had acute eyesight, both in and out of the water, and special muscles in the eye that allowed them to change focus for either medium. You interacted with animals you could both see and not see. When Nate and Clay used satellite tags, of which they could afford only a few, or rented a helicopter, from which they could observe animals from a wide perspective, it appeared that the whales were indeed responding to each other from miles apart. How do you study an animal that is socializing over a distance of miles? The key had to be in the song, in the signal somewhere. If for no other reason than that was the only way to approach the problem.

Midnight found him sitting alone in the office, lit only by the glow of his computer monitor, having forgotten to eat, drink, or relieve himself for four hours, when Kona came in.

"What's that?" asked the surfer, pointing to the spectrograph that was scrolling across the screen.

Nate nearly jumped out of the chair, then caught himself and pulled the headphones down. "The part that's scrolling is the spectrograph of the humpback song. The different colors are frequency, or pitch. The wiggly line in this box is an oscilloscope. It shows frequency, too, but I can use it to isolate each range by clicking on it."

Kona was eating a banana. He handed another one to Nate without taking his eyes off the screen. "So this is what it looks like? The song?" Kona had forgotten to affect any of his accents, so Nate forgot to be sarcastic in reply.

"It's a way of looking at it. Humans are visual animals. Our brains are better suited to process visual information rather than acoustic information, so it's easier for us to think about sound by looking at it. A whale or a dolphin's brain is structured to process acoustics more than visuals."

"What are you looking for?"

"I'm not sure. I'm looking for a signal. For some pattern of information