Genus Homo

by L. Sprague De Camp

  As they entered the museum, T'kluggl apologized for its smallness. "We are but a small settlement of a few hundred individuals. In time perhaps we shall have as fine a museum as any town in the land."

  "Do all your towns have museums?" Ruth inquired.

  "Of course; did not all yours? How is it possible to teach the young properly without museums?"

  T'kluggl pointed out the various exhibits. There were geological specimens, models of machines, wall charts whose meaning the people could only speculate on, and a number of mounted animals including some of the larger mammals. Some of these Bridger recognized.

  "Over here," continued the gorilla, "are relics that we have found of former civilizations, and from which we have drawn our inferences about your species."

  Bridger saw a case with a neat array of Indian arrowheads. Next to it were the relics of the America he had known. They consisted, all told, of a piece of plate-glass the size of a man's hand; a battered gold watch-case with a few links of gold chain attached; a platinum wedding ring; a silver dollar on which, although it was worn quite smooth, Bridger made out the date 1887; a gold coin without a date which he guessed to be of colonial times; a piece of porcelain from an automobile spark-plug; a cameo with the head of a pretty girl in profile; and the greater part of a massive coffee-cup of 20th century roadside-diner type.

  Bridger felt a wave of melancholy sweep over him as he reflected on the mutability of the products of his civilization. How come none of the corrosion-proof alloys we were so proud of have survived? he wondered; I suppose in a few million years even they have oxidized. All our splendid achievements—all our scientific discoveries—gone with hardly a trace. His eyes smarted curiously.

  In his thoughts, the names of the great of science passed—Lavoisier—Darwin—Lobatchevski. Had all their work gone for nothing? Must it all be started over again, with these apes? Not quite—there were still three fair-to-middling scientists alive: Emil Scherer, Abner Barnes, and Henley Bridger. He regretted little Pilly's death more keenly than ever. Then the thought struck him of the appalling responsibility that rested on these three—to pass on to the gorillas, and to their own kind if they should have children, all they could remember of the science of their day. His knees felt weak.

  A detail of the program of the Triple-A S meeting they were to have attended came back to him. Mather, the Harvard geologist, was to have spoken—something about "the future of man as an inhabitant of the Earth." Scherer had remarked on the title, in the bus, before they crashed. The future hadn't looked so good back there in the closing weeks of 1939: war in Europe, brought to the threshold of America by the scuttling of the Graf Spee of Montevideo—Russia and Germany allied against the world, while the American people howled with glee at the premier of Gone With the Wind. What had happened, he wondered? Had Roosevelt allowed the United States to be drawn in? Or was he actually inviting war, as the anti-New-Dealers claimed? And what was behind that off-hand note in the article about the Carnegie Institute, in the issue of Time he had had in his coat pocket—confirmation of a German discovery that the uranium atom could be split, releasing nearly a quarter of a billion electron-volts of energy? His mind went back to certain hints he had picked up in conversation with men in physics—Bohr in the country since January, conferring with Fermi at Columbia, with Einstein at Princeton. It wasn't his field; he hadn't paid much attention; but something was stirring under the surface—something big! Had it been that something—atomic energy—unleashed and in the hands of uncontrollable men, which brought mankind smashing down in self-destruction and gave the world to these apes?

  He turned away from the pitiful little cluster of relics, feeling cold.

  Bridger and Ruth explained the things to T'kluggl, who was in a rapture of glee.

  "Being persons of learning, you can appreciate the great importance of your arrival here to us," he told them. "As soon as possible, all of you must write down everything that you can remember of your former lives and of the world in which you lived. That includes not only the history and technics of your species, but your own histories, even to the most trivial matters. As soon as you learn our system of writing—no, it will be better if you write in your own language; we can translate it later."

  "I'm sure we'll be willing enough," Ruth said, "but remember that you promised to give us some information about your own people. We are curious about you as you are about us, you know." The girl had reached the point where the colloquial idioms of the gorilla language held no terrors for her.

  Back in T'kluggl's house, they were soon settled comfortably among the cushions. "What customs would interest you?" inquired their hairy host.

  "Oh, how you are governed, how you regulate the relations between the sexes, and how you rear your young, for instance."

  "As for government,"—T'kluggl paused and polished his monocle thoughtfully—"the topmost administrative body, if that is what you mean, consists of twenty-eight individuals at Mm Uth. They are elected from a group of 144, who are selected every six years by competitive examination. Our scientists have found that, in these latitudes and with the volume of work required of such a group, twenty-eight is the best number."

  "What does latitude have to do with it?" asked Bridger.

  "The best number varies slightly with the mean annual temperature and humidity," the gorilla explained gravely. "In a tropical country the best number would be larger. If we have too many, they spend too much time arguing, and if two few they cannot handle the work that devolves upon them.

  "The council of twenty-eight elects its own administrative officers, and replaces them if they are not efficient. Each town like this has a group of officers selected by the council at Mm Uth, from a number nominated by those who live in the town, and these in turn are chosen from a larger number selected by examination. The size of these groups is determined from the population of the town by a mathematical formula.

  "You will be interested to know that there is now a proposal before the council to replace the formula that we have been using by another which the experts tell us will give a better distribution of responsibility and authority. You know, we have a class of scientists whose principal duty is to study the machinery of our government and devise ways of improving it. It is they who prepare the tests given to those who seem fitted to assist in the government of the town."

  "That sounds sensible," Ruth commented. "We could have used men like that back on earth—in our time, I mean."

  "With us it is a necessity," T'kluggl assured her. "We learned after many cycles that, left to ourselves, we would never make any change in the system of our society until the reason for it had become pressing, and then a change would be made hastily and without proper thought. The delay, followed by sudden changes which often were of the nature of revolutions, caused many disastrous lapses in our social order. So, when our government was last reorganized, about four cycles ago, provision was made for a special group to insure that changes are introduced when they are needed."

  Four cycles in the gorilla time scheme, Bridger learned later, meant 576 calendar years. The cycle of 144 years seemed to correspond to the number from whom the central officials were elected. He wondered what significance it had. Were there traces of religious beliefs among these apes, as among the most primitive men, or had some gorilla mathematician worked out a duodecimal system of notation?

  "It is probable that the new formula I spoke of will be given a trial of thirty-six years or thereabouts," T'kluggl continued. Three twelves—there it is again, Bridger thought. "Our chief officer in Dlldah is LI Fthung-ee. He visited your enclosure several times during the early days of your—but here he is now."

  A stout gorilla whose grizzled fur indicated advanced years had entered the room. When introductions had been made, he sat down beside Bridger and lighted a foul-smelling black pipe.

  "I heard your last remark, T'kluggl," he said grinning. "The reason I have not given these people more attention is that the papers which
I must keep in order were piled mountain-high on my desk. There have been many inquiries about you and your companions, which I hope to answer more intelligently now that I have time to see more of you. Go ahead with your instruction and pay no attention to me."

  T'kluggl continued his explanation of the gorilla government, the mayor interrupting frequently to pour out masses of detail about elections, examinations, spheres of authority, and points of simian law which left Bridger's head in a whirl. Finally their host switched the conversation to other planes of gorilla culture. Ruth and Bridger suspected that he did it in the hope of shutting off the gabby old gentleman.

  When they got onto the inevitable subject of sex, T'kluggl tried diligently to pump them about human marriage relations, and Bridger felt his ears glowing red at the frankness of some of Ruth Pierne's replies. These school teachers certainly get to know about the facts of life, he thought. I suppose some of the kids they teach must be brought up under pretty seamy circumstances. He managed, by diligent verbal dodging, to get the gorilla back on the subject of his own people.

  As P'plookhl appeared in the doorway, he broke off. "Suppose we adjourn the lecture; it is time to eat again. This terrible habit of yours of eating in the middle of the day will make me fat. Our normal routine, you know, is one meal on rising, one in the middle of the afternoon, and one before retiring."

  "Don't you do any cooking at home?" Ruth asked.

  "My dear, cooking in the home is all very well under primitive conditions, but I hope that this is a civilized community!" P'plookhl retorted.

  12

  THE GORILLAS' WORLD

  After lunch Bridger suggested some gorilla history. "First," he said, "I think it would be clearer if you had a—I don't know how you would say it—a picture of the world, with the boundaries of the different lands marked."

  "Oh, I understand you; that is easy enough." T'kluggl opened a cabinet which stood against the wall and got out some large maps.

  The two people studied them in puzzlement. "Perhaps you could indicate where we are now," Bridger suggested. "The shapes of the lands seem to have changed since our time. I do not recognize them."

  T'kluggl spread one of the maps on the floor and indicated a spot with a blunt forefinger. "I see," mused Bridger. "The eastern coast of the continent has sunk somewhat, and the western coast seems to have risen. I suppose that continent over there on the other map is Fonmlith? Its outline has changed also. We called it Africa. Is that where your civilization arose?"

  The gorilla adjusted his monocle for another session of exposition, and settled himself comfortably among his cushions. "Yes," he said, "that is where our species lived until 176 years ago, at the time of our great migration. But first I must tell you—" and T'kluggl launched into the history of his people, which in many respects paralleled the rise of any human civilization. He told of their emergence from savagery, their discovery of tools and fire, and their periods of being split up into small states. As far back as their written records went, they had been peaceful agriculturalists, without much urge toward either exploration or conquest.

  "We had one period of trouble with the G'thong-smith. They are a species somewhat like us, but smaller, and with very large ears."

  "He must mean chimpanzees," Bridger said to Ruth.

  "These G'thong-smith inhabited southern Fonmlith," T'kluggl continued. "They are a very clever lot, but nervous and quite irresponsible. Their history is full of strange stories of civil war, conspiracy, and murder. But they built some magnificent cities, with huge stone buildings. They look down on us because they say that we cannot make pictures and music, and cannot recite long pieces of writing as beautiful as theirs. Of course we have pointed out that a camera makes a more accurate picture than anyone can draw, so that there is no need to draw except for special scientific purposes. Somehow this argument merely makes them more conceited than ever!

  "As for their music, while no doubt it sounds beautiful to them, it is very similar to the noise of a lot of wildcats fighting. It is made on an odd sort of instrument with a cloth or leather bag. This is inflated by blowing through a hollow stick, while one twiddles one's fingers over many little holes in another stick, and this weird noise comes out of a series of other sticks. Most confusing, although I am a lover of good music." Bridger remembered the campfire serenade their captors had put on, and wondered what a chimpanzee would have to say about gorilla harmony.

  "But we were discussing history. For a time the G'thong-smith sent agents among us to stir up dissension, and to try to gain power over us. They never succeeded, except for a few short intervals, because when any dispute arose the gorillas on whom the G'thong-smith were counting always sided with the rest of us. Finally we became tired of these troublesome fellows, and many of them were killed. For half a cycle we had a law that any G'thong-smith who entered our territory should be slain on sight.

  "They sent an army against us once, but it lost its way—a very easy thing in the great forests of central Fonmlith. Many of them became sick, and when we learned of their approach we hunted them back to the borders of their own land. They never tried that again! That was 2793 years ago, and our relations with the G'thong-smith have been amicable since, although we do not greatly like them, nor they us.

  "But the part of our history which will interest you most is the story of our relations with the Pfenmll. I think I have a picture of one somewhere—" T'kluggl rummaged in the cabinet and presently produced a thin book with limp leather covers, apparently a children's primer. "Let me see—yes, here we are. This is a picture of an individual of the most numerous species of the Pfenmll."

  "It looks like a baboon to me," said Ruth.

  "Sure enough," agreed Bridger. "How big are these things, T'kluggl?"

  "An adult male would weigh about as much as a gorilla, or a little less. Of course, I have never seen one in the flesh, as I was born in this country. There are several species of these beasts, and at one time small groups of them appear to have been scattered all over Fonmlith. As far back as our written history goes, which is about 26,000 years, there are records of raids by small bands of Pfenmll, sometimes coming from the west but usually from the north and east. They would pass through our country at great speed, killing and robbing as they went, and disappearing before any effective resistance could be organized.

  "In time our governmental organization became sufficiently developed so that we had a standing army. After that the raids were less frequent, but the Pfenmll came in larger numbers when they did come. About 12,000 years ago there was a terrible invasion and more of our land was laid waste, but we recovered in time.

  "Meanwhile these Pfenmll were either copying some of the practices of civilization from us, or developing them independently. They had a speech of their own, and they learned the use of fire and tools. They became particularly skillful in metal-working, although as I have told you, metals are not as common as they seem to have been in your day. The Pfenmll used what they had almost entirely for weapons.

  "About 600 years ago we learned that they, too, were experimenting with large governmental units. They have a fantastic system of government. When one of them, by use of force and fraud, has attained the supreme power, he rules until he dies, when his eldest male offspring becomes his successor automatically. That is, if he is not murdered before he can succeed. This strange way of selecting their rulers is one reason why we question that the Pfenmll will ever become really civilized. We gorillas have done many unwise things in the course of our history, but we have never left the choice of our officers to the caprices of heredity!"

  "The Pfenmll were not entirely original in their idea," Bridger continued drily. "It was the custom among some groups of our own people, but I can say that it was being abandoned when we—ah—left our world."

  "I beg pardon—I had no intention of offending you," T'kluggl assured him hastily. "But such a system of government has never occurred to us, and we find it difficult to understand. Perhaps the
difference is biological—our system seems natural to us, and that of the Pfenmll to them. Possibly human beings are between the two.

  "Anyway, all the Pfenmll of the species having red and black faces, who are the fiercest of all, became united under one individual. As time passed we heard that this individual was extending his power over the other races. We ought perhaps to have sent expeditions against the Pfenmll and tried to exterminate them, before they grew too powerful—but we did nothing, and hoped for the best. When they came, at last, their numbers were far greater than ours. We had one or two respites when the Pfenmll fought among themselves, but step by step we were driven to the western shores of Fonmlith.

  "We should probably have been wiped out, except that there is another species of primates—"

  "What?" exclaimed Bridger and Ruth. "How many more are there?"

  "No more with well-developed cultures. These of which I speak come from the southern part of the eastern continent, and early in their history they learned to build great ships. They have a tradition that they originally lived on islands which slowly sank, so that they became seafaring to save themselves. Now they have small settlements in widely separated parts of the world, and travel the oceans in their ships. They are about our size, but have little body hair, and what they have is bright red."

  "Holy Moses!" Bridger whispered. "Orangutans!"

  "These Toof K'thll, as we call them, agreed to carry the remnants of our people over the sea to this continent, which they had found to be without intelligent life. We had to pay them most of our commodities for this service—but here we are.

  "I forgot to say that we tried to get help from the G'thong-smith, but they had built themselves a great wall across the southern part of the continent, and sat safely behind it, declining to have anything to do with us. Shortly before our great migration they offered to set aside a restricted area in their country for our use, but we preferred to take our chances here, and, as our history has shown, we were probably right."