The Swarm by Frank Schätzing Page B

Aquarium, a small group of students and journalists waited expectantly. Through the glass wall in front of them they could see right across the inside of the pool. Rays of sunshine slanted into the water, dancing on the bottom and the sides. In the darkened viewing area, sunlight and shadow flickered across the watching faces.
    Anawak had marked the whale with temporary dye, and a coloured dot now graced its lower jaw. The position had been chosen carefully so that the only way the whale could see it was by looking into the mirror. The beluga swam steadily towards one of two large mirrors that had been mounted on the reflective glass walls of the tank. The single-mindedness of its approach left Anawak in no doubt as to the outcome of the trial. As the beluga passed the viewing area it twisted its white body as if to show them the dot on its chin. When it got to the wall it sank through the water until it was level with the mirror. Then, pausing for a moment, it manoeuvred itself into a vertical position, turning its head from side to side, trying to find the best angle at which to view the dot. It paddled its flippers to keep itself upright, pointing its bulbous forehead first this way, then that.
    In general, whales looked nothing like people, but at that moment the beluga seemed almost human. Briefly it seemed to smile. Indeed, unlike dolphins, the entire species could make their mouths smile or droop, even purse their lips, but it had nothing to do with their mood: the change in facial expression enabled them to vocalise.
    At that moment, inspection complete, the beluga lost interest in the dot. Banking through the water in an elegant curve, it swam away from the wall.
    â€˜Well, that’s that,’ said Anawak, softly.
    â€˜Which means what?’ asked a female journalist, when the whale showed no sign of returning.
    â€˜It knows who it is. Come on, let’s go upstairs.’
    They emerged into the daylight, with the pool on their left. Swimming close to the rippled surface, the two belugas glided past. Anawak had deliberately refrained from explaining the experiment in advance. He was cautious about reading too much into a whale’s behaviour, in case wishful thinking gained the upper hand, so he let the others share their conclusions first.
    They confirmed his findings.
    â€˜Congratulations,’ he said. ‘You’ve just witnessed an experiment that went down in the history of behavioural science as the “mark-test” or “mirror-test”. Does everyone know what that means?’
    The students did, but the journalists were less sure.
    â€˜Not to worry,’ said Anawak. ‘We’ll whiz through it now. The mark-test dates back to the seventies. Some of you may have heard of Gordon Gallup…’ Half of his listeners nodded; the others shook their heads. ‘He’s a professor of psychology at the State University of New York. One day he hit on the crazy idea of exposing primates to their reflections. Most of them ignored the mirror, some assumed it was a rival and went on the attack, but the chimpanzees recognised themselves and used the mirror to look at themselves. Now, that was significant, since most animals can’t identify their mirror image. Most animals feel, act and react - but they’re not aware of themselves. They don’t perceive themselves as independent individuals, distinct from other members of their species.’
    Anawak went on to explain how Gallup had used a coloured dye to mark the foreheads of the apes before he exposed them to the mirror. The chimpanzees were quick to realise who they were looking at. They inspected the dye, raised their hands to touch it, then sniffed at their fingers. Gallup carried out the same experiment with parrots, elephants and other primates. The only animals consistently to pass the test were chimpanzees and orang-utans, leading him to the conclusion that they were capable of self-recognition and were