The facts: Kat had shown by far the greatest capacity, learned the fastest, was the most verbal. Potentially a genius at this. She was the one most likely to succeed, to be able to speak.

The facts: Junior was the youngest, the closest to a baby. He was the one currently lying on the table with a nail inserted partway into his skull.

The facts: Blum and others would believe more in the capability of a male, would hear the words more easily and with less doubt.

The facts: even decades later, thinking back on this time, she couldn’t deny this possibility that deep in her heart, she thought a male was more valuable, worth protecting, worth listening to.)

Her chin pointed—Junior.

Her mouth added—Build me that homearium. I’ll live with him day and night, teaching him, until he can speak English.

Blum asked—Where?

Looking outside, the first thing she saw was the stone floor of the veranda, three steps down from the house. Made of flagstone and cement, the stone floor of the veranda ran along the whole side of the house, 50 feet long.

She said—The veranda. We will build walls around it and flood it and put a roof on top.

They all turned to look at the veranda, mouths open.

She said—Think of the progress I’ve made in just a few days. Think of all I will manage within a year.

A smile appeared on Blum’s mouth.

She said—You will be famous.

The smile widened.

She said—But you have to stop harming them. No more operations.

There was a pause. They all listened to it, waiting for Blum.

He said—Yes. You do this, and I’ll stop operating on these dolphins.

The dolphins?—she repeated, understanding he meant only the four here. She was sliding back into her body, disoriented and slightly nauseous.

He nodded.

There was a whole ocean of other dolphins out there that he could capture and experiment on. Still, these four were the ones she cared about. In this moment, she would settle for saving them.

Yes—she said.

He put the hammer down.

What!—said Tibbet.—Whoa! You kidding me? We’re going to have to drop everything to build that thing. We don’t know if it will work.

Blum smiled—Jim, sometimes you gotta gamble. You gotta have balls.

Blum grabbed the front of his pants and, with his hand there, flicked his eyes at her.

Junior was returned to the lagoon, and she sat down to sketch out the homearium’s plans.

TWENTY-TWO
Aug. 17–30, 1965

Cora had never done well at school or work. Since she was eight years old, people did not tend to listen to her. Instead they talked at her in a loud voice using small words. Here at the research center, it was different. Her observations and thoughts were taken seriously. When she talked now, Blum listened, tilting his head, the Harvard professor. Tibbet and Eh watched him listen, and they narrowed their eyes. She was surprised by the depth of her hunger for this.