Apeshit

  But however breathtaking these falls and the village’s other treats might be, they were not why Tarquini had come to Urumbatti, unlike the other tourists who had got off the bus along with him. His fellow passengers walked off in different directions, and behind him the bus disappeared in a cloud of black exhaust. Tarquini put on his cap, a welcome protection against the merciless sun, and started his exploration of the village, a collection of wooden houses and huts, with only a few brick buildings added, set against a stunning backdrop of lush foliage and a bright blue sky. The scene could have been taken from a postcard.

  His sight-seeing tour was quickly completed, and he quickened his pace, despite the scorching heat, as he noticed a handful of shops at the outskirts of the village, his reason for venturing out there. They fit the description he remembered reading in the reports he had seen. He entered the biggest of the stores, greeted the man behind the counter, and bought a bottle of water, some fruit and a dog-eared copy of a map of the area.

  As there were no other customers and the shopkeeper did not appear unwilling to engage in conversation, he said: “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  The man shot him a quizzical look, but the smile did not leave his face and he nodded.

  “Allow me to present myself. I’m Dr. Rutger Tarquini. I’d like to find out more about something unusual that happened here…”

  “Oh,” the shopkeeper interrupted him. “No doubt you’re talking about my special customers. I’m afraid you’ve come too late. They no longer drop by here. I’m sorry.”

  “I know, but I’m investigating this matter for professional reasons. It won’t take too much of your precious time…”

  “Okay,” the man said, clearly resigned. “You must have heard the stories. Well, they’re not just stories. They’re facts. It’s all true. I sold stuff to apes. They had money to pay me, so I sold to them, as I do to any customer who has money. But I admit I had some doubts at the beginning.”

  “Wait. The beginning, maybe that’s where we ought to start. Could you tell me how these apes discovered money and its use in shops in a village inhabited by human beings? I’m willing to believe all that truly happened, but I’d like to hear a detailed account from someone who was directly involved in it all. So please, tell me the story from its very beginning.”

  “I had noticed some older male apes keeping a watchful eye on my shop and everything that happened here. Now apes are notoriously curious, and they often leave the forest to take a look at us and our strange activities, so there was nothing that aroused my suspicion. But it became clear afterwards that they observed how I ran my business. When dogs or other animals entered my shop, attracted by the food, they were chased away. When beggars or other people without money entered, they were also told to leave empty-handed. But people with money could get whatever they wanted. So one day the apes tried it out for themselves. One of them, an older male, entered my shop, when no other customers were around, pointed at a wooden bowl and put a banknote on the counter. At first I thought it was a joke, that someone had perhaps trained the ape to do this and had given him money, but the creature insisted. It was for real.”

  “Do you have any idea where the ape got the money from?”

  “I found out soon afterwards. The apes had noticed that musicians and jugglers did their thing wherever tourists were around, and collected money after each act, and so they imitated them. I heard stories of groups of apes performing crazy antics and all sorts of hilarious stunts for tourists, and then a cute young ape would go and ask for a little money from the small crowd of spectators, extending his hand just like his human counterparts. Apparently it worked. The apes had found a way to earn money. They didn’t steal it, as some folks claim. They were honest. There’s no law against apes performing an act in return for payment.”

  “So you sold to the apes?”

  “Yes, as soon as I knew they were serious and had worked for their money, so to speak. I also found out the apes were aware of the difference between banknotes of various sizes, and that they were entitled to change. They actually waited for some coins before they left with their purchase. You couldn’t fool them. Well, not much.”

  “And what did they buy?”

  “Mostly books and newspapers,” he said, chuckling. “No, seriously, they bought things they could use as tools in their everyday life. I sold them a lot of wooden spoons and forks, bowls, mugs and bags, stuff they couldn’t make themselves or find in the forest. They never bought fruit or water. They clearly knew the value and usefulness of everything I sell. They’re by no means dumb creatures. I wish I could say the same thing about all my human customers.” He chuckled again.

  “How did the villagers react to your selling stuff to apes?”

  “Very badly. People frowned upon it, openly criticised me for selling stuff to animals. My argument that I sold to anyone who had the money to pay was dismissed. Selling to animals was simply not done. Even if these animals had earned their money in an honest way. It just isn’t right, they said. Some poor guy who has no money comes in here, and he’s sent away, but an ape who was clever enough to snatch some banknotes from those tourist morons is served. It just isn’t right, they kept repeating.”

  “And do you see their point?”

  “Yes, I do. But I run a shop, and it hurts to send a customer away who has the money to buy what he wants, even if that customer happens to be an ape. Some people just couldn’t grasp that.”

  “What about the local authorities? Did they support you?”

  The man shook his head vehemently. The smile had left his face; this was obviously an issue that had caused him some bitterness.

  “The local authorities supported the majority who wanted to see my practice of selling to apes brought to an end. I kept saying that I broke no law and didn’t harm anyone, but they remained deaf for my arguments. And when one day a dozen or so of the poorer guys chased away an ape customer of mine and threatened to burn down my place if I didn’t mend my ways, the authorities didn’t intervene. They let it happen. It was clear what side they were on. So I had no choice. I had to turn away my ‘special’ customers. I didn’t see any of them back, as they were chased off whenever they ventured out of the forest. I’m sure they’ll never return here. Who knows what they’re doing with their money now. Maybe they’ve gone elsewhere to perform their act, collect their payment and go shopping, who knows. But Urumbatti doesn’t do monkey business anymore, that’s for sure.”

  A few other customers entered the shop, so Tarquini thanked the man for his time and left. He strolled around the village and had a cup of coffee until he could catch a bus back to Jalafreen, the town where he stayed in a hotel.

  Later that night Tarquini had a beer in the hotel bar, and let his thoughts roam freely on what he had discovered. At one point another guest took a seat on the barstool next to him, ordered a beer, and placed a strange object in front of him. It was a sort of wooden sculpture, very crude, like a child’s awkward attempt to cut a vaguely human figure from a piece of wood. The man studied it, turned it around and placed it carefully back. He noticed Tarquini’s interested gaze and said:

  “Do you know where I got this? You won’t believe me, pal.”

  “Tell me anyway,” he replied.

  “This afternoon I did a boat trip on the river, and afterwards when our boat docked there was a bunch of apes on the jetty, selling these pieces of art. Honestly, they make these things themselves. They showed us a few apes who were busy hacking away at wood with makeshift tools. I don’t know where they got the idea, or the idea to sell their productions. And, you won’t believe this, but these apes had money. They had different currencies, even US dollars and euros. They refused a small banknote I offered them, and gave me change when I handed them a greater note. They clearly knew what they were doing. And these apes went after every tourist they spotted. Isn’t that incredible? You don’t believe me, right? Well, go and take a look for yourself, pal. And buy one of
these pieces of ape art now that they’re still cheap. This thing here may be a formidable investment, my friend.” The man burst into laughter, and then shifted his attention to the game of pool some people were playing at his left.

  “Incredible indeed,” Tarquini whispered, staring at the crude work of “art.” The apes must have seen the woodcutters at the villages here, he thought. And they must have concluded this was a money-making opportunity for them. They’ve discovered the notion of trade and quickly developed a working system. And maybe this is but the first step in an evolution that will take ape society in a new and unsuspected direction. Who knows where this will end? Will their concept of a trade-based economy and a monetary system take them along the same paths as it did human beings? Will there one day soon be rich and poor apes, will there be social classes, based on the amount of money they’ll have amassed and the power they wield because of it? Will some apes steal money from others, will some go as far as to kill for money, will there be greedy apes and big spenders? Will money and everything it entails radically transform ape society and finally rip it apart, much as had happened with human society? Are we witnessing the onset of a stunning evolution here, or the harbinger of a vast tragedy?

  Tarquini shook his head. The man next to him ordered another beer and handed the bartender a few banknotes, thereby inadvertently knocking down the wooden sculpture. Tarquini caught it before it could fall to the ground, and studied it. It was very crude indeed, and not beautiful in any sense of the word. It probably had been made without any artistic ambitions, merely as an object that could be offered for sale. But as the man had said, it might well be a formidable investment. Maybe I should buy it from him, he thought. See? He had been right. Its value was already rising…

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  Frank Roger (Monkey Business) was born in 1957 in Ghent, Belgium. His first story appeared in 1975, and since then he’s added hundreds of story credits in more than 35 languages in all sorts of magazines and anthologies, including several collections of his fiction. Frank also produces collages and graphic work in a surrealist and satirical tradition, which have appeared in various magazines and books. His work is a blend of genres and styles that can best be described as “frankrogerism”, an approach of which he is the main representative. In 2012, a story collection in English, The Burning Woman and Other Stories, was published by Evertype (www.evertype.com ). Find out more at www.frankroger.be.

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  EVOLUTION HAPPENS

  by Rebecca McFarland Kyle

  Evolution happens. Even the most devout creationists faced with an illness will choose antibiotics that fight evolved germs over out-of-date remedies. People make evolution happen. When the Victorian-era dog shows made canines popular pets, over 200 different breeds emerged through selective breeding.

  Same with GMO foods, but the results weren’t a lovable pup which fits in your purse. Few people heard when the third generation of animals fed GMO grains went sterile. When the news finally got out genetically-altered food was sterilizing humans, it was too late for everyone but two groups: the nature nerds like my partner and me and the ultra-rich.

  Not to worry. The same folks who brought you corn crossed with frogs developed a way to live forever. And why shouldn’t the general population trust them? There were plenty of reasons, but the general population isn’t that bright, particularly when many of them were on one or more anti-cholinergic drugs. You know, statins, antihistamines, antidepressants, all of which caused serious mental impairment. Add to that, erectile dysfunction drugs were allowing men with mental and physical defects who probably shouldn’t breed to add to the population for two generations. Viagra turns out to effect hormone levels in the next generation, too. If only they’d had a baculum like chimpanzees, they wouldn’t have needed the drugs. Yes, there are many times I think that chimps are better than their human ancestors. Men often agree when they learn chimpanzees have a penis-bone.

  Thanks to Bill Clinton’s “Chimp Act,” my partner Chantal and I run a chimp retirement home far from the midst of society. We have a mutual avoidance pact with our mostly redneck neighbors; and we live on what we can grow organically. Our payment is chump change; the Feds didn’t notice us in the austerity frenzy.

  Like a lot of scientific discoveries, our evolutionary experiment was accidental. We get chimps from labs, circuses, show business, and pet homes. Most are sterilized. When we got a load of pets from a hoarder late one night, we checked them in and set them in a cage with food and water.

  I woke next morning hearing my partner calling, “Jeanine!”

  I hurried outside to discover the new chimps were monkeying around. As soon as it was safe, we separated males from females and considered.

  “You know, we’ve never had a baby,” Chantal looked wistful. Considering our lifestyle and the growing sterility of the general population, we weren’t likely to be comadres.

  That settled it. We created a nursery for the expectant chimps and neutered the males. We had the mothers listening to Mozart, various language tapes, anything educational we could find.

  We already had smart chimps. The show biz chimps could sign, drive, and act as human as your average redneck. So, when they were not watching videos of their own shows, we set them up as teachers for the children.

  Those baby chimps learned quickly. Within months, they were doing everything the adults could and more. Chantal and I looked at each other one night after one glass of wine too many and agreed we’d try another generation. So, we matched up the smartest of the male and female children and bred them.

  This time, we added electronics. The chimps were not just signing, they were pointing to words we’d programmed on older-model iPads. Soon, they could ask for a banana by tapping a screen. The brighter ones were forming sentences. I think if we gave twelve of them keyboards, they might come up with something better than the current slate of literature.

  Chantal and I were hooked. We bred the smartest chimps again. The show-biz chimps could drive a car with a human commanding. The first litter could understand directions pre-programmed into the GPS well enough to drive the car. The second litter could program the GPS with the icons and get to their destinations with guidance. They formed complete sentences even earlier. The third generation became the leaders of the chimp colony, patiently teaching their elders new skills.

  Ironically, the chimp population was getting smarter as the human population’s abilities decreased. More than half the population was overweight and ill. Add to that, a whole pharmacopeia of “life-sustaining” chemicals which didn’t guarantee quality of life. Or perhaps the hypnogogic state most folks experienced was what was actually intended by the ruling classes. They created a manageable and undemanding workforce. At that point, we turned off the news. If we’d been watching, we’d have gotten more ammo.

  Throughout the breeding sessions, we’d taken pictures and videos. We were ready to publish a scientific paper or at least sell our films to National Geographic when we saw the line of people coming for the sanctuary. We’re not really on the public radar. Other chimp retirement centers have had their day on the sun, but we’ve deliberately remained private. Homophobic rednecks are just one part of the issue. Now, we were breaking our government contract by making babies.

  This was the most motley looking field trip I’d seen. The procession trudging toward us were shapeless with flesh the bluish white of a fish’s belly. None spoke, save for grunts or coughs. I counted six, but there was no telling how many more followed.

  “Get the shotgun,” I turned to say to Chantal, but she was already running toward the gun-cabinet.

  “What do you want?” I called out, once they were within hearing range. A fog of stench rolled in ahead of them. As a science major, I’d smelled decay. But this was different: rot and excreta mixed with malign neglect and some powerful chemistry.

  They shambled forward, staggering into the electric fenc
e. Sparks flew from their wires, but they pressed on, not feeling the pain even when their clothes caught on fire.

  “Fence could short out.”

  Chantal brought the shotgun to her shoulder, ratcheted it and shot the forerunner full in the face. That brought him down, but it didn’t stop his friends.

  “Shit!”

  We blew away all six. Once we were sure no more followed, we opened the gates and pulled the bodies as far down the road as we could from our land and burned them.

  That night, we turned on the television only to find static.

  Local radio was the same.

  Online was better. Isolates and shut-ins were still on their computers—as long as that lasted.

  Were they zombies?

  The general conclusion was, not quite as the films depicted, but close as bad hygiene, pollution, and modern chemistry could create. No one found a way to reach anything but the animal portions of their brains. Two things they had in common. They were hungry and they felt no pain. If you didn’t have something to feed them, your flesh was fine.

  The only encouraging news was you didn’t become one of them if they bit you. You just got an infection which wasn’t treatable by any of the current antibiotics. If the bite was on a limb, you should amputate. If your head or torso was afflicted, pray you died fast or eat a bullet.

  Shooting or beheading was method of choice for extermination. Even city dwellers were helpless. Visiting flesh-eaters were often EMTs or policeman.

  We gathered all the ammunition we could find, including all the jars of coins we’d saved and gravel from the road. While we were isolated, we figured if the first group found us, others would follow.

  One thing going for us was that our compound was off the grid save for the electric fence and freezers. We’d converted our home and the chimp houses to solar while there was grant money to do so. We still had food and seed enough to plant. Plus, we had a well and a rainwater system. Our generator would power the fence and freezers when the power quit, for awhile.