Meanwhile it was assumed, of course, that she’d look after the child. The two of them sat by the pool and played catch with Junior. The three-year-old had no assumptions about dolphins and their abilities. When Junior had said fffishh earlier, the child had simply squealed, delighted.

The child held the ball up for Junior to see. The child said something, his small high-pitched voice hard for her to hear.

Junior, however, seemed to hear it fine. Nearly vibrating with excitement, he responded in his much louder voice—Bh . . . all.

Rather than throwing the ball, the child pulled it closer and raised his chin, stating a one-word demand.

Junior considered this.

So the boy repeated the word in a louder lower voice, imitating a parent—Please.

So Junior mimicked the word as best he could—Eee-sss.

The child threw the ball. The squeals of the child and the dolphin were close to the same pitch. They played and played.

After lunch, Fred stepped back into the homearium to listen some more. His gestures were looser, his eyes half-lidded. Junior turned to examine him for one long moment and would not speak again. Instead he swam round the pool, balancing the ball on his beak, acting like a dumb seal. After a few more minutes, the man called his child to leave.

His boy waved at Junior and called out.—Bye bye.

* * *

After this, more scientists visited. One would drop by every few days. Like Fred, these first visitors were on vacation with their families. Probably Blum, Tibbet and Eh were telling others about the research, about the results. The scientists would call up, asking if they could drop by. Arriving, each of them seemed already convinced whether this was real or not. Their predetermined attitude surprised Cora, seeming unscientific.

Although their families might walk down to the lagoon to see Mother and Kat, the scientists didn’t. They concentrated on Junior.

Each time one of these strangers stepped in the door of the homearium, Junior would examine him for a long moment and seemed somehow to sense what the man’s attitude was toward the research. If the man walked in with his eyes wide and his voice excited, Junior would speak enough to make the man gasp, then swim away pleased. If instead the man walked in, staring at Junior from the edge of his eyes, his nostrils flared, Junior would only whistle like some brainless bird.

Having noticed Junior’s preference to perform in front of those who were excited to be here, Cora asked that each visiting researcher first be brought into the research center to listen to the recordings and see the spectrograms, so she could have a few minutes to get Junior ready. This way, by the time the man stepped into the homearium, he would have a more open attitude. And seeing that attitude, Junior was more likely to perform.

* * *

One day, a German scientist arrived. After playing the recordings for him, the men ushered him in, flocking around him, eager and grinning. When Blum introduced him, Cora recognized his name from the men’s bookshelf. A few days earlier, she’d borrowed one of his books, but hadn’t yet started reading it. The back cover showed him, as a much younger man, bottle-feeding a young chimpanzee. The description said he’d worked with animals all over the world. In the flesh, he was surprisingly short, but his eyes were the same brown as Junior’s, and they were filled with a quiet sadness.