Kat mimicked the rhythm and pitch of the phrases. She hummed the gist of the sounds, a kid in church mumbling the words of a hymn she didn’t know. It was morning, and she was hungry.

Meanwhile Blum spoke quietly to the official. He explained dolphins were the closest thing on this planet to intelligent extraterrestrials. He said this dolphin had spontaneously performed the mimicking one day of its own accord. In response they had taught it to perform the action on command.

The official was a linguistics professor who had been hired by NASA; his specialty was in heuristics. He’d never seen anything like this. His forehead was furrowed. He didn’t know how to react.

His first questions were about Cora.—Who’s the woman? Why is she here?

(It seemed possible he found a woman involved with science more remarkable than a dolphin mimicking English. The whole time he was here, she did not say one word directly to him.)

Blum answered—Women plant the germ of language in all of us. They teach children how to speak. They are specialized for the work.

The official grunted at this explanation and returned his attention to the dolphin. After a moment, he ventured—Parrots are better at this.

Parrots—Blum blew air out his mouth dismissively.—Tiny little bird brains. Raw memorization. Years of repeated exposure. This dolphin has only heard English for three weeks. It’s mimicking a novel pattern, the beat and pitch. This takes intelligence.

The official considered this.

Blum asked him—What are your three favorite bands?

—My favorite bands?

—Yes. The Drifters? The Coasters? What are they?

—What does that have to do with anything?

—Trust me.

—Well, The Drifters are great, and The Everly Brothers. Lately I’ve been listening to a British band called The Beatles.

Cora nodded and said to Kat.—Talk. The Drifters are great, and The Everly Brothers. Lately he’s been listening to a British band called the Beatle.

Kat kazooed the rhythm, imitating the vowels.

Jesus—the official said.

Blum unrolled a printout of an oscillographic recording he’d brought along, pointing out the similarities in the timing and sounds between Kat and Cora. He circled the sonic bursts, discussing them in terms of frequency spectrums and pulsing rates, multivariate analysis and statistical significance.

At times like this, when the attention of others was on him, Blum seemed to grow larger. He took the stage, confident and gesturing, his voice booming. Cora watched the official listening, his eyes bigger and bigger.

Near the end of his explanation, Blum began to slow down, emphasizing each word.—Imagine returning a year from now.

Blum did not have a problem with pauses.—By then, will they be able to converse? To truly speak?

Blum ruminated—They have a brain bigger than ours.

He let his eyes drift toward the horizon.—Last night I woke up. Maybe two in the morning. A thought pulled me from sleep.

He said—What would be the first question I would ask them?

He whispered—Imagine all we can learn.

Jesus—the official said again and again.