The men turned to her. Kat lay inside the narrow glass tank, foam restraints and straps holding her in place. Blum stood beside the tank, his gloves smeared with blood. He was snaking a thin wire down through the hole in her skull.

Eh was next to Blum, holding some cotton swabs. Tibbet was by the desk taking notes. On the table was the metal suitcase of the tape recorder, its reels spinning.

She spoke to Blum. He was the one who had asked her to say what she observed.—Do you hear it?

Blum asked—What?

She stepped over to the tape recorder, pressed the Stop button. With a clunk, the reels halted.

Hey—said Eh and started to move in her direction.

She rewound the tape, then hit Play.—Listen. Listen to her.

Eh was struggling to pull off his gloves to turn the recording back on. Meanwhile, the audio played: Tibbet stating an observation for the notes and Kat’s voice following an instant behind, a string of short declarative hmms.

Cora said—She’s mimicking you.

The men paused, listening.

On the recording now, Eh asked a question and Kat hummed the same number of syllables, her pitch rising at the end of the sentence. Blum asked for more nails and Kat rumbled his request, lowering her pitch to match his, duplicating the beat of his words as best she could through the kazoo of her blowhole.

Listening, Blum stood very still, head tilted, his eyes on the corner of the room, as though he’d seen something move there.

Tibbet listened, eyes unfocused.

When the tape reached its end, now playing just static, Eh stepped forward to rewind it further and hit Play again. Now they heard Blum stating a flat command and Eh answering. Kat kazooed along behind, imitating their speech.

Eh asked, his voice high—Why’s she doing that?

Cora looked at him with surprise.—To tell you she exists, that she is smart. To get you to stop hurting her.

All three of the men blinked and looked at Kat.

Tibbet said slowly, each word considered—It could be coincidence.

Blum was considering Kat with interest, as though she’d just been introduced. He still held the wire, halfway inserted into her brain.

Kat’s blowhole opened, the rush of breath, then the knuckled closing. She was silent, watching them from inside the restraining tank. Her brown eyes magnified by the water.

Blum pulled the wire out of her brain. He put it down on the table.

He said to Tibbet—Patch her up and get her back in the water.

He added, his eyes direct.—Be careful with her.

Tibbet moved to do so. From the speed with which he moved, it was clear he had wanted to stop the operation a while ago.

Cora sat down in a chair, her knees weak.

Blum turned to her. Those eyes focused on her now.—Where’d you go to school?

—Henry B. Plant High School, South Tampa.

Ahh—said Blum—No, I meant college.

—I never went.

Eh the post-doc turned to her.