Текст книги "Escape from the Planet of the Apes"

Автор книги: Jerry Pournelle

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“Did you never wonder where your language came from?” the Cardinal asked. “I, for one, am very curious as to how a single language, English, became universal among your species.”

“Not merely our species, sir,” Cornelius said. “Gorillas and orangutans also speak our language. In fact, the gorillas and orangutans in my community believe—believed—that God created apes in His own image, and that our language was given us by Him.”

The Cardinal is a bit shook by that, Lewis thought. Cagey old bird. Doesn’t show much. But that ought to have got to him. Hasslein’s still making notes. He seemed awfully interested in that hesitation of Cornelius’s. It won’t take him long to figure out where/when they’re from, I suspect.

“Of course, that’s all nonsense, dear,” Zira said firmly.

“I’d expect the Cardinal to second that thought,” Congressman Boyd said. He looked puzzled as he examined the apes.

“I expect you to leave the theology of the Church to the Church’s theologians,” MacPherson snapped. He turned to the apes. “I would keep that opinion on a tight rein, were I you, Cornelius. There are some Fundamentalists who will find it far more upsetting than I will—”

Zira wasn’t finished. “Chimpanzees are intellectuals,” she said loudly. “And as an intellectual, Cornelius, you know damned well that the gorillas are a bunch of militaristic nincompoops and the orangutans a gaggle of blinkered, pseudoscientific idea-infatuated geese. As to humans, I’ve dissec . . .” she caught herself abruptly. “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.”

“I expect He does,” Cardinal MacPherson said. “Who were the two humans you knew who could talk? And precisely where is this place, where apes speak, gorillas make war, orangutans dream ineffectually, chimpanzees are intellectuals, and humans cannot speak at all?”

“That is a very good question, Your Eminence,” Victor Hasslein seconded. “I should like very much to hear the answer.”

“We aren’t sure,” Cornelius said.

“But at that place, it is as His Eminence put it in his excellent summation? Apes speak and humans do not?” Hasslein insisted.

“Yes,” Zira said.

“But you do not know where this place is,” Hasslein continued. The room was very quiet now. Lewis watched, fascinated, reminded of a serpent stalking a small bird.

“I’m not sure,” Cornelius said.

“Dr. Milo was sure,” Zira said. A large tear formed in each eye and she wiped them, furtively.

“Dr. Milo was a genius far in advance of his time,” Cornelius said. He stood and went to place an arm across Zira’s shoulder, then faced the Commission. “We did not enjoy a mechanically dominated civilization such as yours,” he said. “We did not have the energy sources, for one difference. Certainly there was nothing resembling space flight. Yet, when that spacecraft first landed intact on our seacoast, Dr. Milo was able to salvage it, and through study, repair it. In the end he half understood it.”

“Half,” one of the commissioners said. “Was ‘half enough?”

“It was.” Cornelius looked up in anger. His voice hardened. “Enough for us to escape when war became inevitable. Enough to repair the spacecraft and adapt the survival equipment. Enough for us to survive to land here, where he was murdered in your zoo, and enough for us to be standing here where we can be insulted by you. Quite enough, I think.”

“Please accept our apologies,” Cardinal MacPherson said quickly. “We did not intend to insult you. I wonder if you can understand our surprise, though?”

“I think so,” Cornelius said. “I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

“I add my apologies,” Hasslein said softly. “But please, Cornelius, where did you come from? Did none of you know? Not even Dr. Milo?”

“He knew,” Cornelius said. “He believed we came from—from your future.”

There was silence. The commissioners stared at each other. Then the audience became restive. There were murmurs and comments, and the chairman pounded for order. Eventually there was quiet again. Dr. Hartley looked at Cornelius and said, “That does not make sense, sir.”

“It is the only thing that does!” Hasslein smacked the arm of his chair with his open palm. “The only thing!” He looked up, realized the others were staring at him. “Please excuse me.”

“You spoke of war,” a new voice said.

“Senator Yancey,” Lewis said. “Armed Forces Committee. Senator, Cornelius and Zira.”

“Yes. You spoke of war. War between whom?” Yancey insisted.

Cornelius sighed. “Between our army—all gorillas—between the gorillas and whoever lives—uh, lived—will live? I have trouble with the tenses. Between the army and the inhabitants of the tunnels and caves of the territory next to our.”

“And you don’t know who they were?” Yancey insisted.

“No, sir.”

“Who won that war?” Yancey asked.

Zira interrupted before Cornelius could answer. “How the devil would we know? Chimpanzees are pacifists. We stayed at home. May I ask you something? Would you care to be here, chained, thirsty, under these very hot lights, watching us drink water while you had none?”

“Good heavens!” Dr. Hartley exclaimed. He gestured, and two attendants took a pitcher of water and glasses to the chimpanzees. They drank thirstily. Lewis and Stephanie were not offered water, and Lewis winked at Stevie. She winked back.

“So you don’t know who won the war,” Yancey insisted. “Surely you must have heard reports—”

“No, sir,” Cornelius said. “We assisted Dr. Milo in his work to repair the spacecraft. Then we left. Somehow we ended here. Now.”

“Can you explain that?” Hasslein asked eagerly.

“No, sir. Dr. Milo had a theory, perhaps, but he never explained it to us. I know that before he died that night he was scribbling complex mathematics on the floor of our cage—”

“Where are those equations?” Hasslein demanded. “Dr. Dixon, were they preserved?”

“No sir.”

Hasslein sank into his seat, dejected. Then, angrily, he said “Why not?”

“Because,” Zira answered, “we were never given writing materials. Dr. Milo was using his finger and water to write on the cement floor. Naturally the writing wouldn’t last—”

“Oh,” Hasslein said. He brooded.

“About the spacecraft,” Senator Yancey said. “It landed in your country. By the sea, you said. What happened to the crew? To Colonel Taylor and his men?”

Zira and Cornelius looked at each other, then back to Yancey. “I don’t know,” Cornelius said. “The spacecraft was empty when we first saw it.”

“And did you know Colonel Taylor?” Yancey insisted. “Did you ever meet him?”

The apes exchanged glances again. “No,” Cornelius said evenly. “Is he a soldier?”

“He was an officer of the United States Air Force, an astronaut, and a hero,” Yancey said. “And one of the purposes of this Commission is to find out what happened to him.”

“We don’t know,” Zira said. She looked up helplessly. “We are peaceful creatures. I am a psychiatrist, and my husband an archeological historian. We are very tired, and we have been cooperative, but can’t you now take these chains off and let us rest? Please?”

There was an instant of silence; then the hall burst into applause. Even Hartley’s gavel couldn’t silence it until Lewis and Stevie, smiling, had unlocked the collars and thrown the chains to the floor.

NINE

“You were marvelous!” Stevie said. She threw her arms around Zira. Both laughed as they danced around the hospital wing of the zoo. Stevie halted suddenly and looked around. “I’m sorry you’re still here . . .”

“It’s as good a place as any,” Cornelius said. “Thank you for the furniture.” He indicated the chairs and tables which had been placed in the cage. There was even a small stove in one corner. The door to the next cage, where the gorilla had been, was now open, and bedroom furniture had been placed inside. Cornelius strolled to the corner and turned on the television. “Is this the right way to work this?” he asked.

“Yes.” Lewis watched, frowning, as the news programs came on. A local announcer was saying, “Doctor Victor Hasslein had no immediate comment for this reporter, but we understand he will be a special guest on the Big News, in just half an hour. Stay tuned for the Big News. Now—late-breaking sports. The Los Angeles Rams have—”

“That’s how to turn it off, too,” Cornelius said. “But I do want to watch this Doctor Hasslein.”

“We all do,” Lewis said. He stood at the cage door. “Well. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Eh?” Cornelius said.

“Come in, come in,” Zira insisted. “We don’t mean to be impolite—but after all, it’s your zoo. We don’t really think of this cage as our home, Lewis. I’m sorry . . .”

“Very natural, of course,” Lewis said. He took a seat without being asked; he was tired, and they’d probably never get around to that.

“Have a seat,” Cornelius said. Lewis grinned at him and they both laughed.

“They were just marvelous,” Stephanie said again. “Weren’t they, Lew?”

“Sure, darling.” Dixon’s voice took on a worried edge. “Fabulous. But there was a moment there when . . .”

“Yes,” Zira said.

“Now, let’s not think about our difficulties,” Cornelius said. “I’ve just learned about coffee, and I want some. I watched Stevie make it, and I think I know how.” He went to the stove and began rattling the percolator.

“He knows,” Zira said. “You’re not helping, Cornelius. He knows.”

“My dear,” Cornelius said. “Are you sure we should go into this now?”

“Quite sure,” Zira said. “But only to these humans. To—to our physicians. In confidence. This is in confidence, Dr. Dixon?”

“Yes,” Lewis said. He was fairly positive of it; no one would bug the hospital section of the zoo, certainly not without Haskins being aware of it, and Haskins had said nothing. “In confidence.”

“Why can’t you be honest with everyone?” Stevie asked. “With the Commission?”

Cornelius sighed deeply. “I wish we could. I truly do. But—I’m afraid to talk even to you.”

“But we will,” Zira said. “Sit down, Stevie. Cornelius, stop messing with that pot and come join us. We have to talk to them while we’ve got the chance.”

“I suppose.” Cornelius came over to the group—two chimpanzees on one couch, facing two humans on another. All four wore white laboratory coats now. Lewis had thought it a good joke on the zoo procedure. Haskins would be scandalized.

“But—why not with the Commission?” Stevie asked again.

“Because,” Zira said, “truth can often harm the innocent. And I have a very special reason for wanting to survive. At least for a little while. This does have to be secret, Doctors.”

“Go ahead,” Lewis said.

“No. You tell them, Cornelius.”

“We did know Colonel Taylor,” Cornelius began. "It is true that the first time we saw the ship, it was empty, but we had seen the crew before that. We came to love Colonel Taylor very much.”

“But,” Stevie protested, “what possible harm could come from telling the Commission that? Why—”

“Shh,” Lewis said. He gently put a finger over her lips. "Please go on, Professor Cornelius.”

“Our feelings, our regard for Colonel Taylor was unusual,” Cornelius said. “In our time, apes do not—did not—love human beings. They hunted them for sport, as you might hunt animals. They did not always kill them quickly, either.”

“Good Lord!” Lewis exclaimed. “Chimpanzees too?”

Zira nodded. “We don’t hunt, but we used humans, alive and dead, for experimental animals. Anatomical studies. Medical reactions, drug tests, anything of that sort. Dissection to train medical students.”

“Ugh.” Stevie swallowed hard. “That’s—that’s horrible.”

“Yes,” Lewis nodded. “But we do the same with animals right now. As a scientist I can understand, if humans in their time are only dumb animals, unable to speak or reason . . .”

“We thought they were all that way,” Zira said, “until we met Colonel Taylor. He was the first talking human we’d ever known.”

“I think,” Lewis said slowly, “I think perhaps you were right not to tell them you’d known him. What happened to Taylor, anyway?”

“That was the other reason we didn’t tell about him,” Cornelius said.”

“Yes,” Zira added. “They would have asked what happened to him, whether he’s still alive.”

“And he’s dead,” Lewis said with finality. He paused a moment and took in a deep breath. “I knew him, you know. Not well, but I worked with him once—you know he’s dead, then? Know for sure?”

“Yes,” Cornelius answered. “After we achieved orbit, we could see Earth below. From the ship. And we looked down and saw the earth destroyed.”

Stevie gasped. Then she looked up at Zira. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? Just what do you mean, the earth destroyed?”

“Just that,” Zira replied. “There was a glare and an explosion.”

“And Colonel Taylor was down there?” asked Lewis.

“Yes,” Cornelius replied. “He—he wasn’t able to come with us in the rocket.”

“But what did you mean, the world destroyed?” Stephanie insisted.

Cornelius sighed. “Just that. The gorillas wanted possession of a weapon. Something left from the old days. Milo thought that it would destroy the earth if it were used. Evidently someone used it.”

“The whole earth,” Lewis said. He didn’t even hear himself speaking.

“Yes,” Cornelius answered. “The whole earth. And now, I think you understand why we were less than frank with your commissioners.”

“I still don’t like it,” Zira said. “I don’t like lies and deceit. But what can we do?”

Lewis shrugged. “It’s time for Dr. Hasslein.” He went over to turn on the television.

“And now the Big News presents Dr. Victor Hasslein,” the announcer said. “Dr. Hasslein is the chief science advisor to the president, and insiders know him to be perhaps the most influential scientist in the nation.

“As our Big News viewers know by now, the whole nation is excited about talking chimpanzees. These two apes impressed this reporter, as I am sure they impressed everyone in the room. They answered questions, made jokes, and quite literally spoke and thought as well as any human. Dr. Hasslein, was that your impression?”

The camera panned from pictures of Zira and Cornelius over to Hasslein’s thin features and steel-rimmed glasses. The contrast was startling. “Yes. Although certain members of the Commission seem to harbor residual doubts, I think there is absolutely no question here. These chimpanzees are intelligent by any definition we could rationally put forward.”

“And what do you think about that, Dr. Hasslein?” The interviewer leaned forward and gave his famous look of intelligent concern, a look familiar to millions of six o’clock news viewers. “What does this make you feel?”

“Frightened,” Hasslein said firmly.

“Why is that?”

Hasslein shrugged. “Anything that completely upsets what we thought were known scientific facts is a bit frightening,” Hasslein said smoothly. He smiled as if to show it really wasn’t important.

“Would you say that this shows a potential for intelligence in other apes?”

Hasslein shrugged again. “I would think no,” he said. “We have, after all, rather thoroughly studied apes, and I think we have established the limits of their intelligence. Apes have been raised in human households, as children might be raised. In one experiment, you may recall, a chimpanzee and a human child of similar ages were raised by the child’s parents together as sisters, with absolutely no differences in treatment. Yet, after a few years, the chimpanzee could not speak and had fallen very far behind her human counterpart. No, I think these apes are from a genetically different strain. Quite different.”

“I see.” The interviewer smiled again to show the audience who was the star of the show. “Now, Dr. Hasslein, when you asked the male ape, uh, Cornelius, where he came from, he replied ‘From your future.’ Do you believe that?”

“Absolutely. It’s the only possible explanation,” Hasslein answered. He leaned forward to peer intently into the camera, and to the apes watching him on the screen he seemed almost to come into the room.

“He—frightens me,” Zira said.

“Well he might,” Lewis told her. “But you’ve got to get along with him. Oh, the entire Commission could probably overrule him, if we wanted to badly enough; but the president listens to Hasslein. Don’t blame the president, you understand. Hasslein’s brilliant, and he has a talent for explaining complicated subjects to educated laymen. Just remember, you’ve got to get along with him.”

“Shh,” Stevie said. She put her hand on his lips and grinned. She had been waiting to do that for a while—since Lewis had shushed her.

“I’m afraid, Dr. Hasslein,” the interviewer was saying, “that I don’t find it at all obvious what the ape meant. How could they be from our future? Is time travel actually possible?”

Hasslein smiled thinly. “Walter, there will be nothing simple about this explanation. I do not myself actually understand time, although I have written papers about its nature, mathematical papers. Men will probably never understand time. Only God can do that. But perhaps I can give an illustration, of something I call infinite regression—”

The interviewer winced, but Hasslein smiled. “It is not that difficult, Walter,” he said. “Remember the Morton’s Salt Box? On it there is a little girl carrying a box of Morton’s salt. On her box there is a little girl, also carrying a box of Morton’s salt. And so forth, until, of course, the engraver became tired and did not bother to make the actual detailed picture within a picture within a picture . . .”

“I suppose,” the interviewer said. He looked sharply at Hasslein, and the look said quite a lot. It said, “Whoever told me this guy knew what he was talking about?”

“The same was true of the old Quaker Oats boxes,” Hasslein said. “On those boxes was a man holding a box of Quaker Oats, and so forth. Now, let us see this in a different direction. Let us imagine a landscape painting. In order for it to be realistic, the painter would have to place himself in the painting, would he not? Otherwise something would be missing?”

“Why—yes.”

Hasslein smiled. “Excellent. But of course, now, in order for it to be realistic, the painting within the painting would itself have to contain a picture of the artist painting a picture of the artist painting a picture of the landscape. And, in fact, I that is not quite realistic either, is it? One would have to regress again. And again, and again—”

“It would never be accurate,” the interviewer exclaimed.

“Perhaps not,” Hasslein said. “But in order to understand time, you would have to be like the artist who had done an infinite series of such paintings until he had actually succeeded in portraying the scene realistically.”

“That’s enough to drive you mad,” the interviewer said.

Hasslein shrugged. “Perhaps. But let us imagine, then, that we have this capability. That we have made the, ah, infinite regression, and we are both the observers and the observed. And now let us look at time.”

“What would we see?” Walter asked.

“We might well see it as an infinity of parallel events, but not always parallel. Science fiction writers once called this, ah, ‘fan-shaped’ time; from ‘now’ there stretches forward a large number of alternative pathways. Some come back to the same path. Others lead very far away indeed. And thus, the choices made here determine different futures. In one of these futures, you will leave this building at eight-fifteen, precisely in time to be killed by an automobile which left the parking garage at eight-twelve.”

“I think I do not care for that future,” Walter said nervously. He laughed.

“Yes, but in another, you may leave here at eight-sixteen, and be perfectly safe,” Hasslein said. “Or the automobile does not leave the parking garage until eight-twenty because the driver received a telephone call. Yet, and this is the important point, each of those futures may be as real as any other.”

“But we wouldn’t experience more than one of those futures, would we, Dr. Hasslein?” the interviewer asked. He was now thoroughly confused.

“Certainly not,” Hasslein said. “Yet, each one would be real to the mythical observer who has achieved infinite regression. Now, I do not find it at all hard to believe that these apes have arrived here from one of the possible futures of this planet. To them, that future was very real. But, and I want to stress this, it need not be real to us. We can, perhaps, change that future. And indeed, I think it important that we do.”

“Well come back to Dr. Victor Hasslein as the Big News continues following station identification,” Walter said. “Now an important message.”

“I wish Milo had been here to explain that,” Zira said. She looked sadly around the cage.

“I am Chiquita Banana, and I’ve come to say, Bananas must be ripened in—”

Cornelius flung himself at the set and turned off the sound.

“That’s all we needed,” Zira said.

“Inappropriate,” Lewis agreed. “I suppose I should have expected it.”

Cornelius took a bunch of grapes from the table and passed them around. “Have some, dear,” he said. He gave Zira most of them. They ate in silence until the commercials were over, and Cornelius turned the sound back on.

“The Big News continues. This reporter will confess that he was impressed by the Ape-onauts, and I certainly applaud the president’s decision to transfer them from the Los Angeles Zoo to a hotel. They are no danger to us, and from what I’ve seen, they will be our friends.

“In other late breaking stories, criminals struck at a Los Angeles Savings and Loan for the third . . .”

Lewis switched off the set. “Congratulations,” he told them.

Zira and Cornelius smiled happily. “We won’t be sorry to leave,” Cornelius said. He looked around the cage, and at the place where Milo died. “We won’t be sorry at all.”