Crow Flight Page 9

  // Seventeen

  Outside, it was damp and cold. But Gin barely noticed. Because the crows were near.

  She could hear them, cawing and cackling, as she and Felix followed the gravel footpath that ran along the edge of the woods. The closer they got, the stranger it all felt. Captive crows, carefully trained. She wasn’t even sure if it was safe.

  “So, are the crows like pets?”

  “I guess. I mean, it’s not like having a hamster. They’re some of the smartest animals around, like orangutans and dolphins. Crows do have a relatively small cerebral cortex. But a crow’s forebrain is overdeveloped, packed tight with cells that help with memory, planning, problem solving. My dad studies crows for his artificial intelligence work.”

  It was the first reference Felix had made to the crows having an actual purpose, and it made Gin’s skin prickle. She racked her brain for Odin technologies that involved artificial intelligence, but none came to mind.

  Around the barn and bordering the woods as far as Gin could see, there were a series of thin metal poles, so high they towered above the treetops. The poles held up a thin mesh that looked like a very fine net. If that was the aviary, then it was huge—its own forest.

  The barn, with its distressed wood and weathered metal, was fancier than Gin’s home. But she wasn’t interested in the barn. Because they were almost there.

  The caws grew louder as Felix slid open the large barn door. He held his arm out. “After you.”

  Inside it was warm and smelled slightly of animal droppings and hay. Gin had to pause for a second to let her eyes adjust. Felix slid the barn door shut and opened a second door into a mesh cage, as wide and tall as the barn itself.

  And finally Gin saw them. Crows everywhere, fluttering and swooping and diving. Dozens of them. Hundreds maybe. They sat on branches and roosts throughout the aviary, cawing and cackling, their sounds rising up and filling the space.

  They swooped near Felix, sometimes landing briefly on his shoulder, and taking off again. They hopped up nearby branches and tilted their smooth heads one way then another, as if to get a closer look at Gin.

  “They’re checking you out,” Felix said.

  “Wow,” she whispered.

  “Here, take this.” He handed her a thick cracker. “Just hold it up.”

  She lifted her right arm, tentative. The two birds closest to her peered down, examining the cracker. She breathed slowly, trying to stay still.

  And in a soft, black flurry and a whoosh of air, one bird dropped down.

  She felt it before she understood. A gentle pressure on her curled fingers. A jostling of the cracker.

  The crow was perched on her hand.

  It was lighter than she expected, but powerful. She could feel each smooth, hard toe wrapped around her finger. Each movement the bird made rippled through her hand. The bird was folding and unfolding its feathers, arching and tilting its head. It pecked at the cracker again, crumbs flying through the air, and opened up its beak with a loud caw.

  “Whoa.” Gin had a sudden image of herself tied to dozens of crows, so many that they actually lifted her off the ground, pulling her up in flight. It was a crazy thought, so unlike her. Maybe that’s what these creatures did, grew wild ideas in your mind.

  “That’s Catherine. As in Catherine the Great. She’s one of the best. It’s cool that she’s the one that came to you.” Felix reached in his pocket and pulled out a small blue bell. “Here, she likes to play catch.”

  He shook the bell once—no sound, but a flash of light—and Gin could feel Catherine shift. Energized and focused, her lightweight body lowered to a crouch. Felix tossed the bell up in the air, and in one swift motion, Catherine took off. She flew fast, higher and higher. Gin lost sight of the bell, but apparently, Catherine didn’t: she held her wings out taut and swooped through the air. In a second, Catherine was on Felix’s hand, the blue bell in her beak.

  “That’s amazing,” Gin said. “But how smart are they, really?”

  “It’s hard to say exactly. But they’re pretty smart. They have so many different calls, it’s like a whole language. They’re very social. They can use tools and figure out puzzles. You ever hear Aesop’s fable about the crow and the glass of water?”

  Gin shook her head. She was having a hard time remembering anything at the moment.

  “Here, I’ll show you.” He moved Catherine to his shoulder and walked to the back of the aviary, then outside another mesh door. There was a large, grassy lawn filled with towering trees. The netting was still there, but it stretched so high, it felt limitless.

  “Can they get out of here?”

  Felix shook his head, looking up. “Looks like they could, right? But they can’t. It’s all enclosed by a special mesh, light and strong, with the ability to fix itself. One of my dad’s inventions. But that’s a story for another day.”

  “It seems like it goes on for miles.”

  “It does. At least for a few hundred acres or so. My dad spares no expense when it comes to the crows. And he has plenty of expense to spare.”

  Felix walked to what looked to be a shed, only much fancier than any shed Gin had seen before, and returned with a small bag and a foot-long plastic tube filled halfway with water. He shook the bag, smiling. “Mincemeat. Their favorite.”

  He put a piece of meat on a little foam disk and dropped the disk into the plastic tube, where it floated on the water. He gave a low whistle, and Catherine fluttered off his shoulder and landed near the plastic tube. She examined the meat, which was too low in the tube for her to reach. Then she flew to a pile of small rocks, brought one back to the tube, and dropped it in.

  The water with the floating meat rose a bit. It was still too low for Catherine to reach, but she was closer. Before Gin could blink, Catherine was off for another rock.

  That’s when Gin remembered the fable: a thirsty crow finds a half-full glass of water. He can’t reach the water, so drops rocks in until the water rises and is high enough for him to drink. Gin had always thought the story was a lesson in creative thinking, not an actual phenomenon.

  One after another, Catherine brought rocks and dropped them in, the meat rising higher and higher. Finally, the meat within reach, Catherine tilted her beak in and gulped it down.

  “Wow!” Gin said, clapping.

  “Here’s another one.” Felix positioned a touch screen on a table. “Pattern recognition.” Catherine pecked at it and a circle appeared. With another peck, two simple pictures appeared—a cake and a television screen. Catherine touched the cake, then two more shapes appeared, this time a tire and a gift box. She pecked the tire.

  “She’s choosing the round shape,” Felix said. “She never misses. It’s a level of thinking that toddlers and orangutans can do.”

  After four sets of shapes, all of which Catherine sorted correctly, a pellet came out from a dispenser. Catherine ate it fast, then flew back up to Felix’s hand. “Good girl.” Felix glanced sideways at Gin, as though to gauge her reaction. “Pretty cool, huh?”

  It was cool. And also strange and somewhat unbelievable.

  “I had no idea crows were this smart.” Gin looked back up at the aviary. Everything the crows did—from pruning each other’s feathers to watching the activity around them—seemed to take on a new purpose.

  “Most people don’t. They’re used to being misunderstood.”

  “And your dad uses all of this for artificial intelligence . . . how?”

  Felix’s face turned serious. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Then he grinned. “Only joking. But the truth is, even I don’t know all the details. I just know about the crow-bots.”

  “Crow-bots?”

  “Crow-sized robots. They’re scattered throughout the aviary. They’re programmed with simple behavioral rules, then through machine-learning algorithms, they become more and more like actual crows.” He stepped back to get a better view of the space above, and pointed
to the side. “See, there’s one right there.”

  Perched on the lower branches of a tree was a crow. It blended in well—Gin never would have noticed it without Felix’s direction. But now that she was looking at it, she could see it was different. Its body was bulkier, feathers slightly awkward. When it blinked its eyes and turned its head, it looked almost mechanical. Definitely not perfect, but it was fascinating.

  “Do the other crows know?” Her voice had turned quiet, as though she was afraid to scare the crow-bot away.

  “Of course. They can sense that it isn’t alive. It’s not a perfect experiment for lots of other reasons, including that the crow-bots can’t really fly. We have to position them around the aviary. And the real crows don’t ever incorporate a crow-bot into their groups. But they will interact with it, and that’s how it learns. My dad hasn’t gotten as much information from the whole thing as he’d like. But it’s still interesting. Here, I’ll show you one of the crow-bots that isn’t engaged.”

  She followed him back inside to a side room, neatly organized with drills, tools, and several computers. There were boxes of thin metal wire and bags of black feathers. And on one counter, what looked at first to be a dead crow was lying on its side.

  “You can hold it.” He gingerly picked up the crow-bot and passed it to her.

  Gin’s first reaction was that it was surprisingly light and soft, though she could feel the metal structure just under the carefully placed feathers. Close up, it was clearly not a real crow. But it looked more realistic than she would’ve thought.

  Felix typed on the computer, and the crow-bot shifted in her hands, blinking its eyes and opening its mouth. Gin started, her heart suddenly racing, palms sweating, and nearly dropped it.

  “Sorry, sorry.” Felix held his hands up, grinning. “I know it’s unsettling. I couldn’t help it.”

  The crow-bot moved its wings, pushing out into Gin’s hands, and she set it back on the counter and stepped away. “Weird,” she said. “But amazing.”

  They watched for a few minutes as it cycled through a series of behaviors: cawing, opening its beak wide as though begging for food, hopping awkwardly to one side, haltingly flapping its wings. It wasn’t perfect. But suddenly, the crows made a lot more sense.

  “Okay,” Felix said. “Enough of the pretend crows. Now, let’s take you to the nursery.”

  They headed to the other side of the aviary, where natural light poured in through a sunroof. A heat lamp shone on a wide tree stump, which held a large nest of twigs and branches. Felix pulled Gin forward—it was still like magic, his hand touching hers—and she peered inside the nest.

  Four baby birds lay snugged up together. Their bodies were covered in fluff, their necks just strong enough to lift their heads.

  “Oh,” she said, putting her free hand to her mouth. “They’re so . . . little.”

  A crow flew up and perched on the side of the nest, eyeing Felix and Gin.

  “That’s their dad.” Felix dropped Gin’s hand to point to the crow perching near the nest. “Rufus. And Mandy is their mom.” He crouched down to look more closely at the babies. “We actually breed them to cultivate certain characteristics. Cute, aren’t they?”

  If Gin could put together a logical thought, she’d ask Felix more. But all she could do was nod. “How old are they?”

  “A week. Here, want to hold one?”

  He scooped up one of the baby birds, so gently it barely moved, and brought it close to his face. “Hey, little one,” he said, softly. Then he placed the bird in Gin’s hands. It was warm and light, a small bundle of feathers. It looked up at her, opened its mouth, and gave a small chirp.

  Gin looked at Felix in surprise, and Felix laughed. “He likes you.” The way he said it made her stomach jump. She stared at the bird, face flushed.

  Then Rufus flapped his wings and cawed.

  “Okay, okay. Time to go back, buddy.” Felix took the bird from Gin’s hand and placed it back into the nest. “And we should probably get going, too, right?”

  The crows chattered as they left, a farewell of sorts. Throaty clicks and soft cuckles, rising and falling. Like music. The crow-bot was still perched on the low branch, and instead of watching Gin and Felix leave, it watched the other birds.

  They sat outside the barn for a minute, the wooden step cold, the air darkening. Gin asked about the crows, question after question. Felix was happy to answer, telling her how each crow nest was built from more than 1,500 twigs and branches, and how there were legends and stories about crows in almost every culture, and how wild crows sometimes brought trinkets to people they liked. She tried a few more questions about the crow-bots, but he didn’t have much information. Clearly, that was his dad’s special project.

  It was nearly dark when they started walking back to the house. Partway there, Felix stopped suddenly. “Oh, man.”

  The front door opened, and a man stood there. He was lit from the back, but even from yards away, Gin could make out his cropped silvery hair, thin silver glasses, black turtleneck, and jeans.

  “Guess you’re meeting my dad. Sorry in advance for anything he says, or does, or just who he is,” Felix mumbled. They walked up the steps, and Felix stiffened.

  “Felix,” his dad said, without even looking at Gin. “Were you out in the aviary? I don’t remember you asking if you could go, much less bring a friend. It’s critical that the birds have time without people to rest between shifts. And I’ll be working them tonight.”

  He put one hand on Felix’s shoulder, stopping him in the doorway. Felix kept his eyes straight ahead.

  His dad gripped his shoulder harder. “We just had a talk about responsibility. Or have you forgotten already?”

  Felix looked up, sullen. “We weren’t out there long.”

  His dad loosened his grip and gave Felix a pat. He stood like an army sergeant, feet slightly apart, arms crossed over his chest. And Gin knew her own dad had been right: this was not a man who did anything for fun.

  “Well. I don’t want it to happen again.” His dad cleared his throat. “Marcel has dinner waiting. She wasn’t aware you’d have a friend joining.”

  Felix looked at Gin and frowned. “Gin can’t join, she has to go. But Dad, this is Gin, my partner in computer modeling. She’s the one I told you about, who’s applying to Harvard. Gin, this is my dad, Grant Gartner.”

  “Hello, Gin,” his dad said, giving her a thin-lipped smile. “Felix says you’re an accomplished modeler.”

  “That’s a nice compliment.” Gin tried to keep her voice confident. “I definitely enjoy it.”

  He nodded, and a few seconds of silence passed.

  Gin cleared her throat. It was clearly time for her to go. “Well, it’s good to meet you, Mr. Gartner. I’ll just head up to grab my bags.”

  “That won’t be necessary. Marcel has already collected your things.” He opened the door wider so she could see her shoulder bag there to the side.

  It was strange, for someone else to collect her things. But that was probably what life was like when you were rich. Someone picking up after you, cooking your meals, taking care of any tasks that weren’t worth your time. The ultimate Streamliner scenario.

  As she stepped outside, she looked back at Felix. His face was serious now, the playfulness from earlier completely gone.

  She walked through the shadowy yard, the first planets bright overhead. When she got to her car, she glanced back once more, but the big wooden door was already shut.

  // Eighteen

  The city was ready for the holidays. There were twinkly lights, snowflake banners, and the clang of Salvation Army bells at every street corner. And of course, the huge Christmas tree near the White House. It was enough to make Gin’s walk from the Metro to work feel festive and warm, despite the blustery, cheek-stinging wind.

  At the office, a pretty, red holiday cup of coffee was waiting—it must’ve been from Lucas, who had gotten in the habit o
f bringing Gin coffee. He always bought Starbucks, which was Gin’s coffee shop of choice, a preference based entirely on consistency. Lucas wasn’t at his desk, and as Gin’s computer powered up, she sipped the warm drink and stared out the window. It was steely gray outside, the air frosty as though it could snow.

  “Hey, whatcha thinking?” Lucas asked. Even though it was still the weekend, he was dressed for the workday: plaid button-down shirt, solid tie, two pens in his shirt pocket, khaki pants that were pulled up too high.

  Gin searched for an answer that didn’t include the word “Felix.” Because he had pretty much been all she’d thought about since working at his house the day before. Finally, she just shrugged.

  “I’ve started on today’s file,” Lucas said. “I highlighted my half green and yours yellow, so we won’t duplicate.”

  “Thanks.” She took another sip of her coffee; maybe the caffeine would help her focus. “And thanks for the drink. What do I owe you?”

  “Nothing. It’s on me this time. Interns have to stick together, right? Anyway, I’m still trying to convince you to come over and try Thronesville. You know, even though more and more girls are gaming, your gender is still underrepresented in the field. Which means you could get some good perks if you started.”

  “And coffee is supposed to help how?”

  Lucas held up a finger. “It reminds you that gamers are thoughtful people. And that, therefore, you should be a gamer, too.”

  “Decent logic. Trust me, I’m thinking about it. I’m just up to my ears in my modeling class and schoolwork and my own model—which, by the way, really benefited from that program you wrote. So, thanks again.”

  “Any time. How is Love Fractal anyway?”

  “Definitely not finished. But getting closer.”

  “Well, I know lots of gamers who could use a little, you know, help in the romance area. So maybe you could test it out on them?”

  It was an interesting idea: take one subpopulation, gamers, and see who they matched with. It’d be an excellent test group.