When You Call Nature, Does Nature Answer?
A diverse crowd of people were gathering in the herat of the city's central park. Sleek, solar-powered drones buzzed softly overhead as their cameras zoomed in on the small elevated stage.
Dr. Donald Finch was a local legend in the metropolis for his wild hair and equally wild theories. He had called for people to gather here in order to unveil his latest invention. The crowd watched him in the way one watches a clown give a performance.
"My esteemed citizens," he began, his voice amplified through a microphone shaped like a mushroom. "For centuries we have pondered the thoughts and feelings of our animal companions. Today, we stand on the precipice of a new era in human-animal understanding!"
The crowd grew closer. They were curious yet skeptical.
Dr. Finch, with a flourish, gestured towards a contraption that resembled a satellite dish crossed with a birdhouse.
"Behond, the Animal Linguistic Processor! This marvel of bio-acoustic engineering analyzes animal vocalizations, interprets their complex patterns using state-of-the-art AI, and translates them into human-intelligible language!"
He tapped the side of the decoder, where a series of LEDs blinked rhythmically. "Through a combination of innovation and technology, we can finally decipher the secrets of nature!"
He paused, allowing his words to sink in.
"Imagine understanding the songs of birds, the chatter of squirrels, or the barks of dogs! This device will unlock a world of knowledge, allowing us to communicate with our fellow creatures on a level never possible before."
With a dramatic wave, he turned on the machine. It whirred and hummed as its antennae rotated like a curious insect. He aimed the antennae towards a flock of pigeons perched on a nearby solar-powered streetlamp.
A hush fell over the crowd as the Processor beeped and blinked, processing the birds' cooing. Then, in a synthesized voice, the machine began to speak.
"Ugh, look at that worm! It looks so juicy. But it's right by the human. Should I risk it? Should I risk it?"
The crowd murmured with intrigue. Dr. Finch frowned. This wasn't the profound interspecies communication he imagined.
"Too risky," came a second synthesized voice from his machine. "Hey did you see Dawn's new nest? Prime real estate, right under that fruit stand. Talk about convenient!"
A few people chuckled, which only made Finch frown deeper. He adjusted the Processor's sensitivity, hoping that it could detect something more insightful.
"What's that shiny thing?" a third bird said as it landed nearby. "Wait, isn't that the human that keeps leaving those stale bread crumbs? What a cheapskate!"
A wave of laughter rippled through the crowd. Finch felt his face grow flush.
"But interspecies communication... a breakthrough...," he stammered.
He frantically adjusted the settings again.
"There must be some interference," he mumbled, trying to justify this embarrassment to himself. "Or perhaps something was hacked."
Desperately trying to salvage his collapsing reputation, he swiveled the device towards a squirrel perched on a nearby oak tree. The creature stared back at the scientist with undisguised contempt with its beady dark eyes.
"Oh look, it's the human who thinks he's so smart! What's that ridiculous thing you're holding? Another pathetic attempt to understand us?"
The crowd gasped as Finch winced. This somehow was even worse than the pigeons.
"You think you can just waltz in here with your fancy technology and think you deserve to talk to us?" the squirrel continued, its words laced with venom. "You humans are all the same -- arrogant, self-important, and utterly clueless!"
The crowd, initially amused, was now silent. Dr. Finch felt his heart pounding in his chest. He tried to speak, but the words were caught in his throat.
"You think you're superior to the rest of us, don't you," the squirrel sneered. "Well, let me tell you something, human. You're nothing more than a hairless ape with delusions of grandeur!"
The rodent's words felt like daggers piercing Finch's back. His confidence was shattered. His dreams of scientific glory vanished.
"Next time stick to your own kind," the squirrel hissed. "You're not welcome in our world."
With a final flick of its tail, the squirrel scampered up the tree. Dr. Finch stood there on the stage, facing the scorn of the crowd below. Their faces had twisted and contorted into pity and disdain. His grand invention was now his greatest humiliation.
His face turned flush red, full of anger and embarrassment. He turned and fled in a desperate retreat. He could hear their hushed whispers.
"What a failure," one voice muttered. "He thought he could understand us?"
Each word was a sharp, painful sting.
He found solace in a quiet corner of the park, by a quiet pond with no wildlife. There, he sat on a bench and buried his head in his hands. Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision. He had dedicated his whole life to this project, only to be met by ridicule and scorn.