The Dinosaur Feather

Chapter 20

It was Monday October 15, the first weekday morning of the autumn intersession, and Anna was woken up by Lily balancing a plate of fruit. Anna tried to appear awake. The previous night she had told Karen about Troels, Karen had cried and cried, and it had been past four in the morning by the time they went to bed.

“Rabbit food,” Lily said. “Auntie Karen says it’s called rabbit food.” Anna could hear Karen light a fire in the stove in the living room, and she lifted her daughter up into the bed and made her comfortable.

“Yum,” she said, stroking Lily’s hair. “I love rabbit food.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“All rabbits know about rabbit food,” Anna declared.

“But you’re not a rabbit!” Lily squealed with delight. Karen appeared in the door. She looked tired, smiled and said good morning.

“My mom says she’s a rabbit,” Lily informed her.

Karen smiled.

“Your mom is a biologist, so if she says she’s a rabbit, then she must be.”

Lily started eating Anna’s carrot sticks, dropping only a few pieces on the bed sheets.

“Er,” Karen said, looking at Anna, “are you free today?”

“Not entirely,” Anna replied, checking her watch. “I’ve got two things to do. One is at the Natural History Museum. You want to come along? There’s an exhibition about feathers and a real glacier you can touch and lots of animals and short films. Lily loves that kind of thing.”

“What are you doing there?”

“I’m meeting someone. In the Vertebrate Collection at eleven o’clock. I would like you to come. I’ll be an hour, max. You can have a hot dog in the meantime. Then I need to stop off at Bellahøj police station and… well, we’ll see.” She smiled and Karen sat down on her bed.

Anna felt a pang of guilty conscience.

“Are you okay?” She scrutinized Karen.

“I still don’t understand it,” she said and the tears welled up in her eyes.

“Come on, lie down here,” Anna said gently. Karen snuggled up and Anna held her close.

“I hope they sentence him to treatment of some kind,” Karen said. “That they help him.”

Anna nodded.

“Where do you think he is now?”

“Bellahøj police station,” Anna said. “I’m being interviewed at 1 p.m., then he goes before a judge and he’ll probably be remanded in custody.”

“I would like to visit him, if I’m allowed to. Would you come with me?”

“No,” Anna said, stroking Karen’s hair.

“Okay,” Karen said into Anna’s arm.

At 10:30 a.m. they arrived at the Natural History Museum. They looked at all the colorful plastic animals, pencils, and posters in the museum shop by the entrance. Karen bought Lily a dinosaur eraser while Anna hung up their coats.

“I thought you were meeting someone?”

“I am, in half an hour.”

They strolled through the exhibition and lingered for a long time in front of the different displays.

“I didn’t know birds were dinosaurs!” Karen exclaimed as she studied a poster depicting the 200-million-year evolution of the feather. Anna smiled.

“So a sparrow is a dinosaur?” Karen wanted to know. Anna nodded.

“And when we eat chicken, we’re really eating dinosaurs?”

“Yep! And I like mine with roasted potatoes,” Anna said.

“Roasted potatoes! They must be extinct by now, surely?” Karen teased her. Anna elbowed her.

“Ahhhh, Mom, that’s so cute,” Lily burst out. She was standing in front of a low display case containing a model of a baby Tyrannosaurus. It was the size of a small dog, had giant feet and was covered by a soft, insulating layer of down. Anna leaned forward, gazing at the small body.

“What is it?” Karen asked her.

“A feathered baby Tyrannosaurus.”

“Right,” Karen said.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Anna remarked.

“What is?”

“That it has feathers.”

“I think it’s more fascinating that its arms are so short. Must have been a real nuisance.”

At that moment, Lily spotted a sign with an ice-cream cone on it at the far end of the lobby where the café was located.

“Ice cream,” she shrieked, taking off.

Karen chased after her.

“So sorry, I’ve ruined your daughter,” she called back over her shoulder.

“That’s quite all right,” Anna called back. “I’ll be off now. Back in an hour, all right? I’ll come and find you when I’ve finished.”

Karen waved without turning around.

Anna let herself into the university through a concealed door in the Whale Room, which had been painted two shades of blue to blend in. She caught a glimpse of the bench where she had sat with Troels, before the door slammed shut behind her and she was in the strange, but now familiar, system of corridors. She started walking and when she turned into the corridor leading to the Vertebrate Collection, Professor Freeman was already there. She knew he wouldn’t have been able to resist! Even so, a wave of triumph rippled through her. Freeman had taken off his jacket and was holding it under his arms, which were folded across his chest. Everything about him exuded rejection. Anna’s heart started pounding, and she concentrated on holding out a hand, which didn’t shake.

“Hello,” he said.

“Thank you for coming,” Anna said, feigning composure.

She unlocked the door to the collection and switched on the light, which scrambled and rattled into action. Anna heard a chair scrape across the floor far away and knew she had to get Professor Freeman to say something, so Dr. Tybjerg would know that she wasn’t alone.

“Do you have a vertebrate collection at UBC?” she asked. She said UBC so loudly that it was a miracle Freeman didn’t comment on it.

“Yes, obviously,” he said. “Our collection is far bigger than yours. The biggest in North America… but the atmosphere in here,” he added, sounding almost amiable, “is really quite special. The cabinets, the systematics, it’s all very old-worldly.”

There was silence at the far end of the collection where Tybjerg must have heard Anna arrive with a guest and presumably figured out who it was. Anna had planned the scenario the night before, and she deliberately led Professor Freeman to the place where she had found Dr. Tybjerg last Wednesday. She lit a desk lamp, pulled out a chair, and asked Freeman to sit down. Then she opened her bag and took out her dissertation and the draft of the lecture she would give in a week.

“You said you had something for me,” Freeman said.

“I lied,” Anna said, looking straight at Freeman. “I want you to listen to what I have to say.”

Freeman reached for his jacket, which had slipped to the floor. He looked as if he was about to leave.

“You’re a coward if you leave,” Anna declared. Professor Freeman blinked and let his jacket fall.

“You have fifteen minutes. Not a second more,” he said through clenched teeth.

Anna gulped. Her lecture lasted an hour, and the subsequent defense, forty-five minutes. Now she had fifteen.

“I wrote my dissertation on the controversy surrounding the origin of birds,” she began, “and you play a key part in this controversy.”

Professor Freeman looked at her as if he couldn’t be less interested in what she had to say.

“I’ve read everything you have written, papers and books. Gone through them with a fine-tooth comb.” She studied him. “And I’ve read everything your opponents have written and examined that just as closely.”

Professor Freeman still looked utterly bored.

“Your most prominent opponents are,” Anna continued, “Walter Darren from New York University, Chang and Laam from the University of China, T. K. Gordon from the University of Sydney, Belinda Clark from the University of South Africa, and, of course, Lars Helland and Erik Tybjerg from the University of Copenhagen.” She flicked through her papers.

“What your opponents have in common is that they all criticize your fossil analyses and, on that basis, reject your conclusions regarding the origin of birds; criticism that you don’t accept, am I right?” She didn’t wait for his consent, but carried on.

“For more than fifteen years you have engaged in fossil trench warfare, even though experts agree there’s no longer anything to debate. Let me give an example of your critics’ view on the origin of birds: Belinda Clark is quoted in the September 2006 issue of Nature as saying…” Anna picked up a sheet and read out loud:

“We basically try to ignore him. For dinosaur specialists it’s a done deal. Birds are living dinosaurs.” She lowered the sheet.

“Your opponents say they’re ignoring you, but that’s not entirely true, is it? The debate is still ongoing. Why?”

“Well, why do you think?” Freeman said, giving Anna a neutral look. “Because we can’t agree, and why is that? Because they’re wrong. Clark and Laam and Chang; Helland and Tybjerg. They’re wrong.”

Anna ignored him.

“No one can catch you out in terms of anatomical and fossil arguments. I’ve been through all the material, and the order of battle is the same: you interpret the bones differently, so you draw different conclusions. It’s a vicious circle. You’ll never agree.

“I was about to give up.” She gave Professor Freeman a dark look. “I was desperate. You have maintained your position for so many years, so how could I—”

Freeman glanced at his watch. Anna took a step forward and looked straight at him.

“So instead, I reviewed your premise. And it stinks!”

“Allegations,” Professor Freeman yawned. “Unscientific allegations. From a postgraduate.” Again he reached for his jacket. Anna handed him a piece of paper, which he automatically accepted.

“Please would you read it and tell me if you agree?”

He looked baffled for a moment, then he scanned the page.

“Basic rules that should be adhered to if work is to be deemed scientific,” he read out loud. “What’s this?”

“Just read it and tell me if you agree.”

Professor Freeman read it. He shrugged.

“It’s elementary,” he said. “It’s the requirements for internal consistency and convincing argumentation for selection and refutation of scientific positions. Is this what they teach postgraduates here at the University of Copenhagen?”

Anna was aware she was starting to sweat.

He was walking right into her trap.

“Do you agree with them?”

“Completely.” Professor Freeman let the paper rest against his thigh and looked at Anna.

“Then please could you tell me why you, in your argumentation on feathers, to name one example, are guilty of a severe case of inconsistency, which you’ve just agreed mustn’t happen if a position is to be deemed scientific?”

Silence.

Then Freeman said, “What sort of nonsense is this?”

“Your nonsense, Professor Freeman.” Anna flicked through her papers. “In 2000, Chang and Laam described Sinosauropteryx as having well-preserved, feather-like skin structures. Since then dinosaurs with more or less distinct, feather-like structure have literally poured out of the ground, such as Tyrannosaurus Rex found in 2005. Your opponents argue convincingly for the structure being homologous with feathers, and that consequently a feather isn’t a diagnostic feature reserved for birds but characteristic of a wider group of predatory dinosaurs, including birds. One of the most important conclusions drawn from this is that feathers evolved before flight.” Anna looked briefly at Freeman.

“You obviously disagree profoundly with this statement and in 1985, in 1992, in 1995, three times in 1997, again in 1999, and six times between 2001 and 2004, you write, in a range of scientific journals, that the evolution of feathers is inextricably linked with the evolution of flight and it wasn’t until later that it served to insulate the animal. Is that correct?”

Freeman nodded in an off-hand manner.

“You also write several times that, in terms of evolution, it would be wasteful to develop complex contour feathers, which would only be used for insulation. Ergo, the structures might look like feathers, but they aren’t real feathers. Rather than Archaeopteryx, you and your supporters point to the archosaur, Longisquama, as the likely candidate for the ancestor of birds, is that correct?”

“That’s right.” Professor Freeman had regained his footing, but Anna could tell that he wasn’t enjoying it.

“So now we turn to theoretical science issues, still on the premise that you agree with the rules for scientific integrity, as stated on the sheet of paper. Do we still agree with those rules?”

“Yes,” Freeman croaked.

“Then how do you explain that you, in two papers, one from 1995 and the other from 2002, are critical of the feather-like structures found on Longisquama, and argue these structures bear a striking resemblance to plant material, when you, in a paper from 2000 claim, in great detail, these very structures seal a homologous relationship between modern birds and Longisquama? Plant material, Professor Freeman?”

Freeman made to say something, but Anna continued regardless.

“It’s unbelievable that you dare to assume Longisquama is an archosaur which, according to many experts is by no means certain, and simultaneously you reveal a naive understanding of falsification. It’s not enough to claim Longisquama is bird-like, that’s quite simply not a convincing reason to let Longisquama push Archaeopteryx off the throne.” Anna glanced at Freeman before she went on, knowing full well Freeman was on the verge of exploding.

“I have two further theoretical science disparities associated with your argumentation concerning feathers, then I’ll let you go. In an article in Nature in 2001, you state it’s impossible to establish whether predatory dinosaur feathers are homologous with those of modern birds, because the claim cannot be tested biochemically. But elsewhere…” Anna leafed through her notes. “More specifically in your 2001 book The Birds, on page 114, you claim that it ‘is not scientifically correct to use biochemical analyses to determine if Longisquama’s appendage was animal or vegetable,’ which, for me, is a striking example of the inconsistency which characterizes most of your general argumentation. You let the validity of an argument depend on the actual situation, and that isn’t in accordance with prevailing rules for good science.”

Professor Freeman was white as a sheet.

“Last, but not least, you write in 2000 and in 2002, in Science and Scientific Today respectively, it’s impossible to imagine that a structure as complex as a feather might have evolved independently in different situations, which is likely to be correct. However, the inconsistency arises the moment you, on several occasions in 1996, 1999, and 2000, argue brazenly that other, equally complex structures found in both birds and dinosaurs, such as the half-moon-shaped carpal, might well be the result of convergent evolution. Isn’t it absurd that the feather, according to you, could not have evolved independently, while the half-moon-shaped carpal could?” Anna raised her eyebrows and looked at Professor Freeman.

“Have you finished?” he groaned.

“Yes,” Anna said. “I’ve proven the same kind of sweeping inconsistency and absence of methodology with respect to your arguments about stratigraphic disjunction, the carpus, the furcula, the ascending process of the talus bone, the fingers of the bird hand, and the orientation of the pubic bone. However, I think my time’s up.”

Nothing happened for several seconds. The air stood still and Anna’s heart raced. Then Professor Freeman pushed back his chair and walked out.

Anna let herself fall into Freeman’s empty chair. She heard his footsteps fade away; she heard the doors close, and she sensed how his defeat was absorbed by the stillness of the room. Her heartbeat slowly returned to normal.

“You can come out now, Dr. Tybjerg,” she said.

She didn’t say it very loud; she knew he was close by.

Anna and Dr. Tybjerg put Karen and Lily on the number 18 bus. Tybjerg was less than thrilled, but Anna had insisted and helped him into his jacket as though he was a child.

“I’ll be there in an hour,” Anna promised. Karen looked dubious.

“Karen, I’ll be there in an hour,” she repeated, gravely. “If you make the batter, I’ll make pancakes when I get home.”

Lily shouted with glee and Karen relented.

When the bus had departed, Tybjerg said, “I’ve never met your daughter before.”

And Anna replied, “No.”

Then they caught a bus to Bellahøj police station. Tybjerg seemed drained and kept squinting in the light.

They introduced themselves at the reception but didn’t even have time to sit down before Søren Marhauge came racing out and looked from Anna to Dr. Tybjerg, dumbfounded.

“Er, hi,” he said. “Glad you’re here.”

They were put in separate interview rooms. Dr. Tybjerg gave her an anxious look before his interview began, but Anna shook her head gently. You’ll be fine, she signaled.

The interview lasted thirty minutes. Søren’s questions were precise and thorough, and she tried to reply likewise. When Søren told her that Asger Moritzen was dead, the tears started falling down her cheeks. Søren got up. He’s about to hand me a tissue, she thought, to wipe away my tears, tell me to pull myself together, be strong. But he didn’t. He squeezed her shoulders gently and told her she was free to go once she signed her statement.

Back at Anna’s they ate pancakes and, later, lasagna, salad, and ice cream.

“We’re having a party,” Lily said, again and again, and Karen and Anna laughed every time.

When Lily had been put to bed, they sat in separate chairs in front of the fire and shared a bottle of wine, while Anna told Karen the story from beginning to end, even though some of it was probably confidential. She didn’t care. When she had finished, Karen looked at her for a long time.

“You need to open the door to Thomas’s office.”

Anna closed her eyes and didn’t respond.

“Anna—”

“I’ll open it,” she cut in. “I’m not scared of opening it. There’s nothing behind it. The room’s empty.” She straightened up.

“But first I have to do something I really am scared of.” She glanced at Karen.

“Stay where you are,” she went on. “Don’t say anything, don’t do anything, please. Just be here, all right?”

Karen nodded.

Anna stood by the dark window, her hand on the telephone, looking down into the street, now slushy with melted snow. She could see Karen’s reflection in the glass; she was sitting in the chair to the left of the stove with her legs curled up, her chin resting on her knee. Anna breathed right down into her diaphragm, then she picked up the telephone and pressed Thomas’s number. It was past eleven, and it rang six times before he answered, drowsy with sleep.

“It’s Anna,” she said.

Thomas sighed.

“What do you want?” he said, as though she rang him constantly. “I was asleep. I’m working shifts.”

“I’m calling to tell you I forgive you.”

“What?”

“I’m saying,” Anna cut the letters out of a large, heavy sheet of metal, “that I f-o-r-g-i-v-e you. I forgive you for messing up my and Lily’s life.” Her voice gained strength. “I forgive you for being a fraud. I forgive you for never really loving me, and I forgive you for being cold. I forgive you for being a coward, I forgive you for all the stuff you haven’t got the guts to face, I forgive you for all your lies and your habit of blaming everyone but yourself. I forgive you for only seeing what you want to see, I forgive you for—”

“Do you know something, I don’t need to listen to your crap,” he said and slammed the telephone down.

Anna looked out across the street.

“No, I don’t suppose you have to. But I forgive you anyway, damn you,” she said and added into the telephone: “Except one thing. I’ll never forgive you for depriving Lily of her father.” Then she hung up.

She turned around and faced Karen, who was still sitting in front of the stove and said, “Why don’t we take a look at your new room?”

Karen smiled.

Johannes was cremated on Thursday October 18. The day before Anna called Mrs. Kampe to ask when and where, and she replied it was a small and private service but Anna was welcome. When Anna arrived at the chapel of Charlottenlund Church at 12:50 p.m. she encountered ninety-five goths in full costume. It was a glorious sight. Mrs. Kampe stood away from the crowd, looking lost.

Inside the church, she sat alone in the front pew, but just before the service was about to begin, she rose and asked in a meek voice, “Why don’t you all move closer to the coffin?”

People got up and filled the front pews, and when Mrs. Kampe began to sob, a woman with heavy black makeup and green hair gently took her hand. Anna sat in the fourth row letting her tears fall freely. The coffin was pure white. It should have been wearing a Hawaiian shirt.