Crow Flight Read online

  There was a rustle of wings and a loud, harsh ke-awww. Catherine was right above them, settling on a branch. Her feathers were plumped out, and she tilted her head left and right, as though inspecting them. Finally, she made a quiet, low, chuck-chuck-chuck sound.

  Felix laughed. “Catherine’s trying to figure us out, I think. She’s never seen me like this. You know, so close to someone.”

  “Interesting.” Gin wasn’t sure which part was the most interesting: Catherine’s apparent thought process, or the fact that Felix hadn’t been like this, in this spot, with anyone else. “You think they can reason like that?”

  “Well, you know they’re smart, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So smart that they can recognize faces and figure out puzzles.” He rubbed his thumb over her hand and it made her whole body feel squeezed together.

  “Right.” The word came out almost breathless, and she cleared her throat.

  “So don’t you think they could recognize other things, like emotions?”

  “What are you saying? That all this makes you emotional?”

  He grinned, his lips dark in the shadows. “Well, something like that.” He was watching her intently and shifted his hands so they were around waist. She placed one hand on his arm, and, with the other hand, she touched his cheek. His eyes were so focused, almost serious, and before she could catch her breath, try to slow down her heart, he was leaning in and kissing her.

  She lifted her hand higher, traced one finger over his eyebrow, pushed her hand through his hair. And then they were pulling each other down, until they were kneeling on the ground, facing each other, kissing. Bodies pressed close. His arms around her waist. Her arms around his shoulders. Reaching for more of him.

  Without warning, a loud, powerful “caw-caw” suddenly rang out. Gin and Felix jumped. And they sat back on their heels, looking sheepish, as though they had just been caught by their parents.

  “That was a real crow, right? Not a crow-bot?” Gin looked up into the dark trees, worried for a moment.

  “Yes. Real crow. The crow-bots are resting in the workroom for the night. Too much crow-bot time, and the real ones get annoyed.”

  “Then that was pretty funny.”

  “Wanna try again?” Felix was still holding her hands, and he pulled her closer, but she nudged him back. She wanted a second to catch her breath and think. To be sure her mind was part of all of it.

  “How about if we talk about our project for a minute?” It was the only thing she could think of. “After all, that’s why I came over. Right?”

  “You didn’t come over for this?” He leaned closer. The warmth from his breath was intoxicating. It pulled her in, and she had to force herself to lean back, further from him. She hugged her knees to her chest and looked down for a second, then met his gaze.

  “Maybe there was more than one reason.”

  “Thought so. But okay. We can talk about our project.” He settled back against the tree and held his arm out to the side, and she nestled in close to his chest. He was wearing a dark gray fleece and brown cargo pants, blending right in with the aviary’s woods. “So, we’re studying crows. Modeling their flight behavior and how they interact in the aviary. All to create a simulation—an agent based model, most likely—to study flocking behavior of a more intelligent species of bird. Does that about cover it?”

  “I guess it does.” They hadn’t done an agent based model in class yet, and she was looking forward to trying one. They’d set up rules for the crows as individuals, then the program would let a group of individuals interact. Gin and Felix would track what happened, looking for new behaviors that emerged at the group level. “I think it’s going to be good.”

  “Absolutely. This model will be good. And in case you were worried about the data part, let me reassure you on that point.” He stood up and bounded over to a wooden panel in the wall. After pressing a hidden button, the panel opened, revealing an entire room filled with computers and screens and drives. Lights blinking. Two chairs, each at a console. Like a command center for a small airport or army.

  “Whoa. That’s incredible.” Gin walked over, standing just outside the room, as if stepping in would set off dozens of alarms. “What is it?”

  “This is part one of our big project: data collection. Did I mention my dad’s a little anal about the crows? He’s kept all the data about all of their behaviors for years. We have everything we’d ever need to know right here. Where they’ve flown and perched and slept every second of their lives. This is data central.”

  Gin shivered. “This is . . . I mean . . . This can’t just be a hobby.”

  Felix looked over the computers. “I guess the data feeds into his AI program. Or maybe it helps him train the crows better.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, did you ever figure out why Maggie had stopped at that house?” The feeling Gin had when they saw Maggie in the city bubbled up in her chest again. This all seemed to be something . . . bigger.

  “Maybe she was casing the house so my dad could send in a team of burglars later.” Felix raised his eyebrows. “You know, since he needs some extra cash and all.”

  “Okay, okay, I guess it’s silly.” Gin shook her head. “I was just trying to figure out how it connected to the AI program. Or some other research project. Or . . .”

  “You sound worried. But you shouldn’t be. My dad is smart, but Maggie’s a crow. That’s it. Nothing crazy high tech. But you should look for yourself. I’ll send the raw data on their movements to you.” He sat down at one of the computers and started typing. “I’m putting it on my super secure file sharing site and sending you the link right . . . now.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. It’s probably nothing. It’s just so different.” The hard drives blinked, and it seemed like they were reiterating her point. Because the computers weren’t regular PCs, amped up with lots of memory and storage. At least two were top-of-the-line gaming computers, no longer reliant on SSD or DRAM, but using a hybrid storage technology that was supposed to come out in a few years. “And these computers . . .”

  “Right? The crows may not be high tech, but the computers are. Anyway, we should start playing around with the data for our project.” He was back at her side, tugging her hand, pulling her into the aviary. “Plus, if you’re following hunches now, I’m all for it.”

  That’s when Gin realized that was exactly all it had been—a hunch. A feeling or a guess based entirely on intuition, not facts.

  “So, I guess we have step one of our model creation covered?” Felix pulled her in tight, resting his chin on her head.

  Their final project, and the trained crows, and Mr. Gartner’s strange interests felt miles away. “Yeah, all covered.”

  “So maybe we’ll start now with our night observations? Like, what the birds do on a typical evening.”

  “Sounds good to me.” They were still for a few minutes, watching, when one of the crows—Frederick, maybe, ruffled his feathers and tucked his head down.

  “You get that?” Felix whispered.

  Gin nodded.

  And before she could say anything else, they were kissing.

  // Twenty-Five

  The last week before winter break was frigid and windy, the skies like slate and the trees leafless and sharp. Monday night, after all the kissing in the aviary, Gin had gone home and finalized her college applications, including the one for Harvard. The applications had been ready for weeks, and she was certain they were as good as they were going to get. Plus, she wanted to have plenty of time over break for Felix. And so, without overthinking it, she pressed submit, seven times.

  The rest of the week had been all about the crow model. Felix and Gin started after school and worked until almost midnight for three days in a row. The work was fast and furious and good. With an agent based model, they’d have less upfront coding. But they’d have a lot more to do after the model was created, examining all of the scen
arios and figuring out which ones, if any, showed an emergent trend.

  Most flocking models relied on three rules of interaction: alignment, or how a bird would naturally keep moving in the direction other birds were moving; separation, or how a bird would shift to avoid other birds that got too close; and cohesion, or how a bird would move towards nearby birds. Gin and Felix decided to start with those rules, then add others based on what the data showed.

  They already had an example flocking model to play around with. It was beautiful to watch: at first, the computer screen would be splattered randomly with hundreds of “birds,” all represented by little kite shapes. The birds were all heading in different directions, none of them coordinated. But slowly, as the birds moved around the screen, they began to align, moving together in the same direction, flying as if in a wave. Flocking. Order arising out of chaos.

  It took her breath away every time.

  Since Felix and Gin’s model would use a group of more intelligent birds—crows—there was a chance that a new pattern would emerge. And their model was coming together amazingly fast. Felix felt it, too. As they were working, he kept pausing, shaking his head, and whispering things like, “Wow. This is good,” or, “Now this is better than I ever expected.” And they’d work some more.

  Their styles complimented each other. Felix, with his crazy fast thought process and unyielding logic and “bits of soul” he always wove in. And Gin, with her attention to detail and strong analytics and sense of how all the parts fit together. It felt like they were meant to be a team, meant to do this together.

  But as much as Gin loved the modeling, she also loved the breaks from modeling. When, without warning, Felix would tug her close, his face so near she could feel his breath, and they’d kiss. His hands would move to her hips, thumbs pressed tight to her waist; her hands would settle at the small of his back or on his chest or in his hair. Then one of them would pull back for a second, and they’d both grin, and then they’d write some more code, the logic falling out of them as though it had always existed, and they were hanging it up, like laundry on a line.

  They worked at his house so they could take crow breaks, when they’d layer on their jackets and hats and gloves, and walk out over the dormant lawn, which was either crunchy with frost or slick with mud, and sit in the aviary. The more Gin knew about the crows, with their quick wits and astounding intelligence, the more beautiful they became. Watching, waiting, learning. Smarter than pets. Smarter than young children.

  Smart enough to be doing something.

  Gin couldn’t shake the idea that the crows were part of something bigger, had some sort of a purpose. The AI research was the most logical connection—after all, crows were one of the most intelligent animals around. But it seemed like there was another layer. Though if that were the case, surely Felix would know about it. Unless his relationship with his father was so bad they barely talked about anything, even the crows.

  The data didn’t help. She had looked at it a few times, trying to find some pattern, something that suggested what—if anything—the crows could be doing. She had even researched trained animals: homing pigeons had been used to carry messages in wars, while turkey vultures could sniff out rotting corpses from thousands of feet away. Even the U.S. Navy used dolphins to find land mines planted in the oceans and to patrol harbors for unauthorized swimmers; the dolphins would then tag either with a buoy to alert officials.

  But there was nothing about crows. So she stopped trying to figure it all out. She was thinking enough as it was—about the model, about the last bit of classwork she had to do before break, about Felix. Mostly Felix.

  Funny thing was, with all of that thinking, she wasn’t even using her other models, the ones that could help her maximize her time. She had stopped using Outfitter altogether—instead, she’d pull on outfits that she thought Felix would like, or that he had already complimented, or that just felt right. There was no need for TimeKeeper, because all of her time, like her thoughts, was consumed with the crow model and homework and, of course, Felix. And Decider felt almost obsolete, as though there were no decisions to make.

  That, in itself, was an odd sensation. There had always been decisions to weigh, paths to consider. But with her college applications sent off and her relationship with Felix solidifying, it was like there was nothing else to choose.

  On the last day before winter break, they had a check-in on their final project with Ms. Sandlin. Gin and Felix went last. After they explained the basics, Ms. Sandlin stared at their model framework and data summary, drumming her fingers.

  “Well.” Ms. Sandlin leaned forward and folded her hands neatly on the table. “This is one of the best starts I’ve seen. Certainly in this class. Maybe in any of my classes.”

  Gin and Felix grinned at each other.

  “I’d go as far as to say that this model may rival many that are produced professionally, by teams of people with support staff. Your work is creative, intriguing, well supported. And it could lead to fascinating conclusions.”

  It was all Gin could do to not leap up and scream with excitement.

  “Of course, you still have more to do. But if you keep it up, I believe this is going to be quite successful.” She paused to take her glasses off, touching the frame to her lips. “Can I ask how you came up with this idea?”

  Felix leaned back in his chair, relaxed as ever. “Sure. It’s a family hobby—I mean, the crows are. So we had a good data source that we thought was unique. And once Gin saw the crows out in a field, training, she thought they’d be a good subject for the model. And I agreed.”

  “Very interesting.” Ms. Sandlin was looking at the model again, scrolling fast through screens of data and code.

  The bell rang. “Wait one second,” Ms. Sandlin said to Gin and Felix, then stood.

  “Have a wonderful winter break,” she said as students shuffled out the door. “Don’t forget to continue work on your models. Remember, it’s the majority of your final grade.”

  Soon Felix and Gin were the only students left.

  “Now.” Ms. Sandlin was suddenly intense. “I cannot emphasize how impressed I am. It’d be one thing to simply write a flocking model. But this idea, modeling flocking behavior in a more intelligent species, with all of the implications that could have . . . it’s quite good. With this work, I have no doubt that you should both be able to join my summer internship program.”

  Gin put her hand to her mouth. It couldn’t get better than this.

  “I’ll see you after break. I especially look forward to the next check-in.”

  As soon as they were out the door, Felix turned to Gin and lifted her up in a big bear hug. “Don’t you love the crows now?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I do.”

  After school, Gin had to work, and Felix was heading to the river, but they met by her locker before leaving.

  “You sure you don’t want a ride to work?” he asked.

  “No, I’m good.” She put her final book in her bag, her locker almost completely emptied out for the break. “If you take me now, you’ll miss your chance to windsurf. You don’t want to be out there in the dark.”

  “Who says I don’t?”

  “Well, I’m fine. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow?” They had planned to go into the city again, this time purely for fun. No crows or models involved.

  “Sounds good. I’ll pick you up at four.” He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist.

  She would never get over this feeling of him. As though they created their own magnetic field.

  Then, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small canvas bag. “An early Christmas present.”

  Inside was a thin leather necklace with a small pendant carved out of black stone.

  “A crow,” she said.

  “A crow. So you can keep the crows, and me, close to your heart.” He wrinkled his nose. “Is it lame?”

  Gin shook her hea
d. “No way. Not lame at all. It’s perfect.”

  Then, they kissed.

  // Twenty-Six

  But Gin didn’t see Felix the next day. He had to leave on a last-minute family vacation to somewhere tropical, luxurious, and so isolated he wouldn’t even have cell reception. Apparently, it was one of Grant Gartner’s quirks to make sure he was unreachable at least part of the year. Felix apologized over and over when he talked to Gin, saying he’d rather stay with her, but that he’d see her as soon as he got back after Christmas.

  She was disappointed, but she had plenty to do to stay busy. Like finish her Christmas shopping.

  Felix’s gift for her had been so nice, so thoughtful, it had thrown her. Hannah insisted that Gin shouldn’t overdo it, but Gin couldn’t help analyzing all of the options: a hat from a windsurfing company; an old copy of one of Felix’s favorite books; a computer-generated ink drawing of him and the crows out in the field.

  After hours at the mall and hours looking online, she finally ended up with a pair of canvas slippers for post-windsurfing, and a framed version of an old cartoon of Abraham Lincoln looking at his own memorial and shaking his head, saying, “Where do they think I came from? A palace?” Apparently Felix hadn’t been the only one who thought Lincoln would disapprove of his own memorial.

  Christmas Eve, after Gin had spent the day reading ahead for class and watching The Lord of the Rings movies, Gin’s mom bustled in, still in her scrubs, carrying plastic bags of takeout Vietnamese.

  “Merry Christmas, Ginny,” she said. “I’ll just hop in the shower, and we’ll be ready to eat. Is Chloe home yet?”

  On cue, Chloe burst in the front door. She was wearing a cream sweater dress and purple tights, her long brown hair loose and wavy down her back, her makeup glittery and fresh, even after her two-hour drive.