Escape From The Planet Of The Apes (13 page)

“They turned the tables on their owners,” Zira said. Her voice held satisfaction and pride. “They learned they were slaves, and they did something about it!”

Cornelius gently laid his hand on Zira’s. “First, of course, they had to develop personalities of their own. While they were
animals,
unaware of anything, they did not feel exploited; but after two hundred years of this, they became aware of their identity. Then they learned to be alert to the concept of slavery—and to slavery’s antidote, which is unity and brotherhood. They learned to act together. They learned to
refuse
.”

“I see,” Hasslein said. “Do go on, Professor Cornelius.” His pale eyes were alert and interested, and he leaned slightly forward across the table.

“At first, they only barked their refusal,” Cornelius said. “But then, one historic day, there came an ape named Aldo who didn’t bark. He spoke. He spoke a word which had been spoken to him, time without number, by humans. He said, ‘No’.”

“You seem proud of Aldo,” Hasslein said.

“Of course,” Zira told them. “His is the most honored name among apes. We are all proud of him.”

“And that’s how it all started,” Hasslein said to himself. “But—what happened to the humans?”

“We don’t know, exactly,” Cornelius said.

“Slaughtered by the apes, maybe?” Bates sneered.

“More likely, by each other,” Zira snapped.

“Roll that film clip. B-3,” Bates ordered.

The screen lit again, to show Cornelius and Zira during the first session with the Presidential Commission of Inquiry. “Where we come from, apes talk and humans are dumb animals,” Cornelius’s image said.

“Those were your words, were they not?” Bates asked.

“Certainly,” Cornelius answered.

“So in your culture, humans are dumb,” Bates continued. “Are they happy?” Cornelius looked away from the interrogator’s cold staring eyes. “I asked you, are they happy?”

There was no answer. “Just what happened to the human culture, Professor Cornelius?” Hasslein asked gently. “Was there a slaughter of humans by apes? Surely you would have records of a triumph like that! You would be proud of it.”

“No, we wouldn’t,” Cornelius said.

“After the revolt, the apes enslaved the humans, didn’t they?” Bates insisted. “For revenge. And eventually exterminated every human with intelligence. Destroyed civilization.”

“No,” Zira protested. “It wasn’t that way at all.”

“How are humans treated in your time/place?” Amalfi demanded. “What would happen to me, for instance, if I went there?”

“I don’t know,” Zira answered.

“Ah,” Bates said. “Sure about that? Real sure? Run that next tape, uh, tape B-5.”

The screen lit again, to show Zira speaking to the Commission. “As to humans,” her image said, “I’ve dissec— Excuse me. I have examined thousands of humans and until now I have discovered only two who could talk in my whole life. God knows who taught them.”

“Now,” Bates said, “we presume that you meant you had known two humans who could speak prior to your arrival in our time. Otherwise, your words make no sense at all.” His voice hardened into a whiplash. “Who were the two? Colonel Taylor and who else?”

“I never met Colonel Taylor,” Zira protested.

“You came here in his ship,” Hasslein reminded them.

“Give me that special setup, sound only,” Bates told the intercom.

Zira’s voice came through. “As to humans, I’ve dissec— excuse me. I have examined thousands of humans . . .”

“Now what was that word you didn’t finish?” Bates asked. “Just what were you afraid to tell the Commission?”

“I don’t remember,” Zira said nervously. “I—we weren’t afraid of anything!”

“Hah. You don’t remember,” Bates said. “We’ll refresh your memory. Run the loop.”

“Dissec—dissec—dissec—dissec . . .” Zira’s voice said endlessly.

“Finish the word, monkey,” Bates snarled.

“I have told you not to use that word!” Cornelius snapped. He stood and advanced toward the table.

“If you don’t sit down we’ll put the chains back oh you,” Bates said.

“Dissec—dissec—dissec . . .”

“Complete the word, Madame Zira!”

She sniffed. “It sounds as if I had hiccups!”

“Good girl!” Cornelius encouraged.

“I see,” Hasslein said. “I take it, then, you refuse to tell us of your relationship with Colonel Taylor?”

“We never knew . . .”

“Oh, don’t lie,” Amalfi said. “That won’t do you any good. Come on, tell us about it. You’ll feel better, and we can leave you alone then.”

“Those monkeys aren’t going to tell us anything,” Bates snapped.

“You shouldn’t call them monkeys, Larry,” Amalfi said. “Professor Cornelius said he didn’t like that. Won’t you just tell us about it? Please? We have to find out, you know. And we will, too. Make it easier on yourselves.”

“Good advice,” Hasslein told them.

“There is nothing to tell,” Cornelius said.

Hasslein sighed. “You leave us no choice. Send for Dr. Dixon, please.”

There was a long pause. Then Lewis Dixon came into the small clinic. “You wanted me?”

“Yes,” Hasslein said. “I want you to administer sodium pentothal to these apes. You may begin with the female.”

“I don’t think that’s wise,” Lewis said.

“I don’t care what you think, Dr. Dixon,” Hasslein said. “I have not invited your comments, and I will not listen to your arguments. You may do as I have asked you, or you may refuse. If you refuse, I will have an NSA physician administer the dosage. I only invited you because these apes are under your care, and I thought you might prefer to participate.”

“I see.” Lewis was silent for a moment. “I’ll get my bag.”

“That will not be necessary,” Hasslein said. “You will find everything you need in that cabinet there. I trust you already know the body weight.”

“Yes,” Lewis said. “But I don’t necessarily know the dosage. Or the effect on a chimpanzee.”

“It should be the same as with humans,” Hasslein said. “Anyway, we’ll try it.”

“You haven’t the right,” Lewis protested.

“Dr. Dixon,” Hasslein said, “that is the last argument I will hear from you. Either you do as I ask, or someone else will. Now is that clearly understood? Are you serious, for that matter? These are
animals.
They have no legal rights. Perhaps their owners have rights—”

“No one owns us!” Zira shouted.

“You see?” Hasslein said. “And of course they appeared in a U.S. spacecraft. Trespassers. A
prima facie
case of skyjacking. Administer the hypo, Dr. Dixon, or we’ll get someone in who will.”

“All right.” Lewis took the tray from the cabinet. What can I do?” he thought. If they get someone else in, he may not even care if he harms them. At least I’ll be here to protect my—patients. He filled a hypodermic with sodium pentothal and turned toward Zira.

“No!” Cornelius shouted. He had seen the instrument for the first time. “When we use those things, it’s for killing! No!”

“Restrain him,” Hasslein ordered. Amalfi and Bates took Cornelius’s arms.

“Killing what?” Bates asked. “Thought you were pacifist vegetarians!”

“Yes, just whom have you killed with those needles, Professor Cornelius?” Hasslein asked. “Well, we shall know all shortly. Proceed, Dr. Dixon.”

“This won’t harm her,” Lewis assured Cornelius. “This isn’t for killing. It’s for—well, relaxing.”

“Will it harm my baby?” Zira asked.

“No. Please lie down on the table, Zira,” Lewis said. “And bare your left arm.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Zira said angrily. She climbed onto the operating table and lay quietly. Cornelius whimpered and tried to get closer to her.

“Take Professor Cornelius to his quarters, please,” Hasslein said. Bates nodded and led the chimpanzee away. As he left, Cornelius saw Zira wince as the needle was pushed home into her arm.

Henry Amalfi and Larry Bates stood outside the interrogation room. Bates pulled at a big calabash pipe, while Amalfi puffed on a black cigar. “You had better stay outside,” Amalfi said. “She’s not going to relax with you around.”

“Expect you’re right,” Bates said. “Can’t really say I’m sorry to be out of it. This is a weird one.”

“Maybe.” Amalfi stuffed the cigar into a sandfilled ash tray. “You weren’t on that interrogation of those cats from North Laos, were you?” When his partner shook his head, Amalfi continued, “Now that one was
really
weird. These monkeys speak English, anyway. That outfit spoke some brand of Gook that nobody else understood. Finally we found a Gook who could speak their gibber and could talk Chinese too, only then we had to get a Chink to translate
that.
Weird, I tell you. This is pretty straightforward.”

“I suppose. Only, Henry . . .”

“Yeah?”

“You really shouldn’t speak of them as Gooks and Chinks. It isn’t nice.”

“Yeah.” They both laughed, and Amalfi went back into the interrogation room.

“This will have about the same effect as ‘Grape Juice Plus’,” Lewis told her. “You’ll get sleepy . . .”

“And drunk,” she said.

“More or less. OK, count backwards from ten, please,” Lewis said.

“Sure. Ten—nine—eight—seven—seven—six . . .”

“That’s fine. Just keep it up.”

“Five—four—four . . .”

“What’s after four?”

“I don’t know—two? I’m very tired.”

Lewis looked up to Hasslein. “We’re ready.”

“Thank you, Dr. Dixon. You may go now.”

“No, sir,” Dixon said. “This chimpanzee is my patient, and I’m staying here.”

Hasslein said nothing. Lewis met his steady gaze. “Dr. Hasslein, I am both a member of the Presidential Commission, and the attending physician. If you have me put out of here I’ll make so much noise you’ll be hearing about it for the next ten years.” Lewis spoke very quietly so that he wouldn’t disturb Zira, but his voice was hard and determined.

Hasslein nodded. “Very well. Mr. Amalfi, you may begin.”

“Zira,” Amalfi said. “You remember me? I’m your friend.”

“Friend . . .”

“Have you ever worked in a room like this one?” he asked.

“Yes. Mine was larger. But not so—pretty.”

“Pretty? I wouldn’t call this room pretty,” Amalfi said.

“The equipment is lovely,” she muttered. “Really beautiful equipment. We never had such good equipment.”

“I see. And you had assistants?”

“Three. Three assistants, all chimpanzees. And one orangutan worked with us, sometimes . . .”

“And what did you do in your laboratory?”

“Comparative studies.”

“Comparative studies of what?” Amalfi asked.

“Comparative ana—ana . . .”

“Comparative anatomy?”

“Yes,” the sleepy voice answered.

Hasslein looked at Lewis with both triumph and sadness in his eyes. “You knew?” he asked softly.

Lewis didn’t answer.

“Traitor,” Hasslein said coldly. “Continue, Amalfi.”

“What anatomies did you compare?”

The chimpanzee rocked gently on the table. There was no answer. Finally Amalfi said, “Human and ape anatomy? Is that it?”

“Mmm.”

“Do you mean yes? Say yes if you mean yes. Did you compare human and ape anatomies?”

“Yes.”

“So you dissected other apes? All species of apes?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you get them?”

“Dead apes. From hospitals, and morgues.”

“But to do comparative studies, you had to dissect humans as well, didn’t you?”

“Yes. As they were—as they were made available.”

“I see. How were they made available, Zira?”

“The gorillas hunted them. For sport. They used nets, and guns, and traps. Sometimes they caught them alive, and kept them in cages . . .”

“And what did they do with the humans they kept in cages, Zira?” Amalfi asked. His voice was carefully controlled, calm and friendly, but he looked away with hatred and disgust.

“The army used them for target practice, some of them. We had our pick of the others, for scientific experiments. Some were very good specimens.”

“I see.” Amalfi’s voice came alive, matching Zira’s enthusiasm. “And you could make so many scientific discoveries that way. You dissected and removed and compared—”

“Bones, muscles, tendons, veins, arteries, kidneys, livers, hearts, stomachs, reproductive organs. Everything. We did very careful work. We mapped the nervous systems, and reflexes—”

“Reflexes,” Hasslein hissed. He looked at Dixon, then at Amalfi. “What does she mean, reflexes?”

“Reflexes?” Amalfi said. “But dead humans don’t have reflexes.”

“Of course not,” Zira protested. “I told you we did good work. We used
living
specimens. You can’t make a dead man’s knee jump, or test a corpse’s reactions to a prefrontal lobotomy.”

“Then you were very advanced,” Amalfi said. “So much so that you were able to do experimental brain surgery on living humans?”

“Yes.”

“How many survived?”

“Quite a few. Of course we lost a lot of them, too, but that was only to be expected,” Zira said. “But my main project is to stimulate the atrophied speech centers of the humans.”

“Have you had any success?”

“Not yet,” Zira said. “I mean, not now—not anymore? Where am I?”

“She’s coming around,” Hasslein said. “Another injection, Dr. Dixon.”

“I think not,” Lewis said. When Hasslein started to protest, Lewis said, “If you kill this intelligent, speaking chimpanzee, you’ll answer for it to the president. I won’t take the responsibility, and I doubt you’ll find another doctor who will.”

“What about Colonel Taylor?” Amalfi asked. “Did you stimulate his speech centers?”

“Of course not,” Zira snapped. “He could talk already.”

There was a sharp sound from Hasslein as he drew in a deep breath. He nodded to Amalfi, then looked at Lewis again, the same look of sadness and triumph mingled.

“There were three men in Colonel Taylor’s ship,” Amalfi said.

“Yes,” Zira answered. “There was one who—somehow—died.”

“Died?”

“Yes. Before we found that he could talk. The gorillas killed him. He had a unique skin, something we’d never seen before, until we came here. We had him stuffed and put in the museum—like the gorilla I saw in your museum.”