Crow Flight Page 21

  “It’s about the crows.”

  “The model’s looking good, isn’t it?”

  “Really good.” She could breathe easier for the moment, thinking about the model. At least it was simpler than the topic she needed to bring up. “I still can’t believe how well it’s coming together. Ms. Sandlin is going to be impressed, you know? If I show it to her, that is. Which I probably won’t.”

  “You have to show it to her.” He squeezed her hands and leaned closer, his eyes seeming to glow. “It’s good. Unique and interesting and logical, if I do say so myself.”

  “But the data is proprietary.”

  He groaned. “Proprietary. Another word for ‘pay money to use it.’ Seriously, I thought we had gotten over that. Anyway, this model might be the deciding factor in whether you get that internship. Like I said, my dad wouldn’t have to know.”

  “Think you’d still take the internship? If we got it? Because if I do, you’d have to.”

  “I’d consider it. Anything if you’re part of the package.”

  It made her blush. And it gave her the confidence to keep talking. “You know me, I’m all about internships. But, about the model . . .”

  “Is there some code that’s not doing what it should? Or a scenario that doesn’t make sense?”

  She sighed and looked at him. “Felix, I don’t know how to say it, but I don’t think they’re . . . just crows. I think—I feel like—they’re doing something else.”

  He let go of her hands and leaned back, so he was resting against her headboard. “Look, you know I’m all for feelings. But, did you see anything in the data?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. Not yet. It just doesn’t seem normal. It doesn’t seem right.”

  He put his hands behind his head and sighed. “Welcome to my world. Nothing my dad does is normal. And probably most of it isn’t right, either.”

  “But what about you? What do you think?”

  “I’ve found with my dad it’s better not to think too much. And anyway, I like the crows. To be honest, they’re like my friends—the only consistent ones I’ve had since I was a kid. And if my dad enjoys working with them, I’m not going to push it, because there isn’t much he enjoys.”

  “So that’s it. You think they fly through the city and stop at certain spots, all for training?”

  “I don’t know. You’re right, that surprised me, too. Maybe there is some purpose for it. But it seems like they stop all over the city. And they’re crows. How much harm can you do with crows?”

  Gin sighed, the certainty draining out of her again. “I guess. It’s just strange. And your dad’s business—how he’s always ahead of the competition. At least that’s what my dad says. There was that newspaper article about how Odin unexpectedly beat everyone to the launch of that quantum cryptography phone. I just thought . . .”

  “My dad’s good at what he does. He’s not perfect, but he’s good at his work. And he gets good people to work for him. Like your dad.” He bit his lip and looked up, his face softening when his eyes met Gin’s. “Look, I know it seems strange. I have no idea what they could be doing, if they’re doing anything at all. Do you have theories?”

  “They could be helping with research for artificial intelligence. Or they could be trying out new security cameras.” She looked down at her bed, then back at him. “Or they could be working as spies.”

  “Spies?”

  Her face pinkened. “Yeah, I mean, maybe it’s farfetched. And I don’t know what information they’d be getting. But they could be getting something. No one pays attention to crows. And a few of them stopped at InTech. Not many in terms of overall statistics, but still.”

  “Don’t give my dad too much credit. He’s smart, but . . .” He looked up, thinking. “Unless.”

  “Unless what?”

  “It’s probably nothing.” Felix rubbed his hands over his eyes and shook his head. “But one time, he had to leave the aviary suddenly, and I glanced at the computer he was working on. It was pulled up to an InTech site.”

  “Like, their website?”

  Felix shook his head. “More like an internal site. With folders of files and stuff. I knew it was strange. But I didn’t think much of it at the time.”

  They sat on the bed, silent. Gin’s desk lamp glared. The window with its drawn shade seemed suddenly flimsy. As though anything could burst through. Or anyone could listen in.

  Gin shivered. “So you don’t think I’m crazy?”

  Felix shook his head. “No, not crazy. I’m not saying I think you’re right, but you’re definitely not crazy.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “We still have the data. We can keep looking at it. If there’s something there, we should be able to find it. And if not, we can let it go.”

  “What if we find something?”

  Felix didn’t answer at first, the question lodged into the space between them. Finally, he sighed. “Then we find something. It’s like truth—it’s there whether you want it to be or not. All we’re doing is looking for it. And it’s never a bad thing to look for the truth.” He sat back up and pulled her hands toward his face, resting his lips on them.

  “Okay.” Gin felt her shoulders relax, her breath sink through her.

  “Okay. Anyway, you should totally, always trust your gut. For instance, what does your gut say about this? About me?”

  He was looking down, and she studied his face—how his eyelashes curved to touch his cheeks, how his lips opened slightly.

  “That I like you. A lot.”

  “I like you too. More than you know.” He leaned closer and kissed her, again. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, breathing in the moment as though that would make it last for days, weeks, even months.

  “I better go,” he finally said. “But I’ll get on our site once I’m home. And we can sort through the data together. And I’ll come back soon. I promise.”

  They tiptoed back downstairs, and Gin walked Felix outside. She was surprised to see the street was empty, Felix’s beat up 4Runner nowhere in sight.

  “Wait, do you need a ride? How’d you even get here?”

  “I’ve got my methods. One of the first things you learn as Grant Gartner’s only child is how to sneak out.”

  “Are you walking? It’s going to take all night to get home.”

  “No, I’ve got a ride nearby. I’ll hike the last bit of it, though. Believe it or not, there are some back entrances into the Gartner estate.”

  “Call me if you need help?”

  “Of course.”

  They kissed once more on the porch, and Felix slipped away, walking briskly down the shadowy street.

  // Thirty-Nine

  You have anything yet?

  Gin sent the message and watched her cursor blink, waiting for Felix’s response. She felt exhausted, but also wired, as though she had drunk an entire pot of coffee. Because Felix didn’t think she was crazy.

  They’d been looking at the data for the past three hours. Gin had started as soon as Felix left, and Felix came online two hours later. They hadn’t found anything yet. But it was exhilarating. Looking, following her gut. Not to mention the fact that Felix had been there. In her room. The thought of it stung her body, making her chest ache.

  Of course, it was all tempered by the fact that they were looking for something possibly illegal that his dad might be doing with the crows.

  A message popped up from Felix, and Gin blinked once, hard, before reading it.

  Nothing on my end. But I’m glad we’re looking. We should keep looking. At the data. And other stuff, too.

  She typed back, quick. I was going to pull more research about animal training. Birds, in particular. And about AI. And . . . what else?

  That’s a good start. I’ll do the same.

  You think there’s something? She held her breath as she waited.

  Maybe. Probably? I don’t know. I’m just ann
oyed I haven’t looked at it before.

  There might be nothing. I hope I haven’t pulled you off course, on some crazy tangent.

  No. Nowhere’s a crazy tangent . . . if you’re there.

  Gin sighed, letting the words sit there, close. I miss you. I better go soon—my mom will be home. And she likes to see me sleeping.

  Me too.

  She waited for him to explain. When he didn’t, she wrote back. You, too, what? Need to sleep? Like to see me sleeping?

  All of the above.

  I really miss you.

  You too. Sweet dreams. I liked seeing you tonight. Let’s do it again. Soon.

  Any time you want.

  No more messages came from Felix, and Gin finally lay back on her bed, trying to sleep, but uneasiness crept through her chest. She felt like she was perched on a cliff, looking out into the horizon, waiting to see something, with no idea of what she was waiting for.

  And she wondered if it’d be better simply not to look.

  Over the following days, Gin continued her research. She studied the numbers, searched scientific journal articles, and reread everything she could about crows. She dug deeper into the world of training animals, intrigued to find that chickens could run obstacle courses and “helper monkeys” could assist their owners with daily tasks, such as washing up and opening bottles. But none of it helped.

  She spent most of her time on her final projects. She pieced together her traffic model, but her focus was on the crow model. Felix worked on it, too, and they messaged each other through the share site, posting scenarios they’d run and new ideas on what the data was showing.

  They may not have found out what Felix’s dad was using the crows for, but they were uncovering something about crow behavior: there seemed to be three unique sets of rules that individuals followed—one that fit for the bulk of the population and two others for two distinct subsets of birds.

  They set up a new model with that finding. Gin ran it three times before she believed what she was seeing: one of the subsets became leaders; the other subset became secondary leaders. Flock leaders had been studied—but the idea of a secondary leader was new. It was like there was a whole other level to the order. It was a real finding, a discovery. Exactly what she’d been hoping for.

  She messaged Felix, immediately, attaching the latest version of the model. Check this out. Do you see what I’m seeing? It’s incredible.

  Somehow, amazingly, he was on the site and messaged back. Hold on—pulling it up . . . Got it . . . waiting . . . Oh, cool. I see it.

  Can you see how the groups split? How there are leaders AND secondary leaders?

  Yes, exactly. This is incredible. A new insight to how groups function.

  It’s the real thing. A discovery.

  We DID it! I mean, you did it. It wouldn’t have happened without you. Even if it means I’m grounded for the rest of my life.

  Will your dad be mad? I don’t have to show Ms. Sandlin or anyone else. I have my traffic model. It’s not terrible.

  No! Not an option! This is science! Where would we be if Isaac Newton or Louis Pasteur kept their work under wraps? We have to share it with Ms. Sandlin. And it’s just a high school class. I’ll talk with my dad at some point. I promise. He’ll understand.

  Point taken. I’ll think about it. If you’re sure. Thanks for working on it with me. And for encouraging me to stick with it. I miss you.

  Miss you too.

  The data had shown something much better than a crazy conspiracy. Surely Mr. Gartner would reconsider letting them use it. Maybe he’d even want them to use it. Science, after all, was about discoveries. And to make a discovery like this, sometimes you had to take a chance.

  There were exactly three weeks left until the final models were due. On Friday, Ms. Sandlin had a check-in for every group. Gin had both models on her laptop—the traffic model and the crow model. When it was Gin’s turn to talk with Ms. Sandlin, she hesitated for a moment, took a deep breath, and opened up the crow model. There was a knot in her stomach the whole time, as though she could feel Mr. Gartner’s disapproval. But she reminded herself of Felix’s assurances. Anyway, Mr. Gartner hadn’t given either of them details on why they shouldn’t work with the data. He, of all people, should know that Gin and Felix were scientists—and scientists needed facts.

  “This is interesting,” Ms. Sandlin said after Gin had finished. “May I play with it?” She pulled the laptop closer and started inputting scenarios.

  It was beautiful to watch. Thousands of little bird-shapes zoomed around the computer screen in different directions and at different velocities. Slowly, they started to shift. A group of two or three would form in one corner and join up with a few more, and another group would start to grow somewhere else, until the chaotic movement became orderly. Entire groups of birds flying together.

  That was always the punchline with a model like this. How you could start with thousands of individuals that all followed a set of localized, individual rules but with no guiding principles for the group as a whole, and then a group-wide behavior—order itself—would emerge. As if it had been designed in the first place.

  “And this is where you’re seeing the leaders and secondary leaders?” Ms. Sandlin pointed to the front of the flock that had formed on the screen.

  “Exactly. We still need to analyze it, but we’re hopeful that it’s real. Because it could impact—”

  “All sorts of things,” Ms. Sandlin broke in. “Social structure, how networks form and collapse, decision matrices. The possibilities for a finding like this are endless. Gin, this is excellent. And to think, a few months ago, you felt that you wouldn’t be able to do this work. Even more than coming up with a good project, I value your persistence.”

  Gin squeezed her hands in her lap, the relief washing through her.

  “And I’ve heard that you’ve been accepted to Harvard. Congratulations. I’ll be back there next fall. After your work this summer through the internship program, I’m certain there will be some research opportunities during the school year.”

  Gin felt it. It had all been worth it. Following her gut had taken her exactly where she wanted to go.

  // Forty

  The cherry blossoms were nearly ready to bloom, and the city bustled with life.

  Gin and her parents were celebrating her Harvard acceptance with dinner at a new dim sum place in the city. But first, they were stopping by “Angles and Lines,” an outdoor art exhibit featuring a mathematical sculpture of the Hilbert curve. Gin had first learned about the Hilbert curve in the third grade. It was a continuous fractal space-filling equation: let a Hilbert curve loose in an empty square and the pattern would grow denser with each iteration, until you couldn’t even see the lines. If Gin couldn’t fall asleep, she’d imagine a Hilbert curve running along her bedroom wall, trailing a gold or blue line behind it.

  Most importantly, Hilbert curves were useful, coming in handy for things like mapping a picture of a range of IP addresses and compressing data warehouses. And now Gin would get to see one built out in three-dimensions.

  They strode past the Washington Monument, and along the Vietnam Memorial, with its sobering black walls of names. There was a light breeze, and since the sky was cloudy, it wasn’t too hot. The day already felt like a fitting celebration.

  Gin tried to focus on the moment instead of wallowing in the fact that she probably wouldn’t get what she wanted most for her birthday: first, to see Felix; second, to figure out what—if anything—was going on with the crows. The more time that had passed, the more impossible both of those felt.

  Felix hadn’t messaged Gin once for the past three days. Which wasn’t too long when compared with his months of silence, but it still felt strange. And for the crows, Gin had come to the conclusion that Mr. Gartner was so smart that even if something was going on, it’d likely be impossible to find.

  Soon they were walking along the wide lawn of the Na
tional Mall, near the old carousel, with its colorful circle of painted animals. Gin spotted the aqua blue horse that, when she was young, she had always felt was faster, even though she knew better.

  To the side of the carousel, tucked back near a stand of trees, was the sculpture.

  A big metal cube made of interlocking lines that went up and over, up and over, in the Hilbert curve pattern. Gin already knew what it would look like from photos. But somehow it was different to see it in person.

  “That’s pretty cool.” Her mom shaded her eyes with her hand. “What’s it mean again?”

  Her dad looked up, studying the sculpture. “Basically, it’s a formula that runs and runs, filling up a predefined space in a particular pattern. It’s pleasing to the eye. It’s useful. I can show you the equation.” He pulled a piece of paper and pen from his shirt pocket, scratched a few notes, and held it up so Gin’s mom could see.

  “Huh. That is interesting. Reminds me of all those long study nights in college.” She leaned towards him, tucked her head on his shoulder. “When I’d watch you scratch out rows of numbers on a whiteboard. Or was it a chalkboard?”

  “That was exciting.” They smiled at each other, then kissed.

  Gin groaned. “Come on. We’re looking at art here.”

  “With a soon-to-be Harvard student, at that.” Gin’s mom ruffled Gin’s hair. “I think I’ll admire the artwork from that bench over there. My feet need a break. You two enjoy.”

  Gin and her father looked up at the metal statue. “Have you found the point where they had to deviate from the formula, to make the two-dimensional pattern into a three-dimensional shape?” he asked.

  Gin scanned the metal lines and pointed. “Right there, near that corner.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  They stood quietly for a few minutes. There was something appealing about a simple formula worked out in space, turned into a metal solid, weighty and real.