by Will Self
As for the humans, they were as zombie-like and uninspiring as the first time Simon had seen them. “‘H’huuu” you’ve seen our human group before, I believe, Mr Dykes?’ Mick Carchimp gestured as they came up to the glass which fronted the enclosure.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Simon countersigned. ‘I remember that one in particular “euch-euch”. ’ It was the human Simon had dubbed the Wanker who had caught his attention. The Wanker was making good his moniker, standing in a daze, his slack hand yanking his great wiener of a member; his vacant, white-pigmented eyes rolled back in his head. A silvery thread of drool was strung from his mouth to his chest, and this twirled in synchrony with his pleasureless onanism.
‘That’s our alpha male,’ Carchimp signed. ‘He’s been with us the longest of any of our humans.’
‘Was he born here “huu”?’ Busner asked.
‘No, he was born at Twycross – they have a very big human group there. But some of our other humans were captured in the wild – that one, for example. ’ Carchimp was pointing at the other sorry specimen Simon had denoted the Commuter. The Commuter was also living up to his title, standing motionless, one truncated arm hooked loosely around a shoulder-height handhold, the other dangling by his side, a slice of white bread clutched between his grey fingers.
‘That human actually came originally from Tanzania, but we got him from a pharmaceutical company’s laboratory, after they’d finished with him –’
‘What do they do with the humans “huuu”?’ Simon flagged Carchimp down.
“‘Hooo” all sorts of things, Mr Dykes – none of them, I’m afraid, particularly nice. I believe this specimen was kept in a large compound – you know how humans hate being unconfined – and together with other adult males was shot at with hypodermic darts full of cocaine.’
‘Cocaine “huuu”? What’s the point of that then?’
‘Good question, something to do with studying drug dependency, I suppose. It’s the human species’ great misfortune to be our closest living relative, so all sorts of research gets done on the beasts. Even here at the zoo we do some experiments – although as chimpmanely as possible.’
‘What sort of experiments “huuu”?’
Simon’s muzzle was a picture of anxiety. He hadn’t exactly expected to see Simon junior in the humans’ enclosure, but nonetheless an insistent image of his missing human infant kept coming to him. He peered through the thick glass into the dim recesses of the humans’ room. It would be demonic, evilly bad to see the familiar muzzle, the undershot jaw and slightly goofy teeth in amongst these naked brutes. All of Simon’s pictures were of a clothed infant, an infant in school uniform. If these humans were to be clothed, they’d look altogether subversive, like humans got up for a travesty of a tea party, or a P.G. Tips commercial.
Even more unsettling was the image of Simon junior naked, strapped down, electrodes wired to his shaven head, or hypodermic syringes shot into his furless flesh. Simon junior infected with CIV, or poisoned with anthrax, or with his eyelids pinned back so that perfumed fursprays could be tested on his exposed eyeballs.
‘ “Hooo” well, we don’t do anything that involves harming our humans. We’re more interested in attempting to get genetic profiles of human sub-species. One of our biggest problems with captive humans is that all the subspecies have interbred in captivity, so most of these humans are hybrids. You see, it wasn’t known that there were human sub-species until recently –’
‘ “H’huuu” what, may I ask, distinguishes them?’ Busner flicked in.
‘It’s difficult for laychimps to spot the difference without training, I think because the sight of humans is so unsettling to begin with – but, put simply, they have different “euch-euch” skin colourings, and also different casts to their muzzles. Once you’re trained in identifying them, it’s quite easy to tell them apart. Not that that would help you much with our group – apart from that one,’ he stabbed at the Commuter, ‘they’re all hybrids.’
The chimps squatted in silence for some minutes observing the lack of activity in the human enclosure. Most of the animals were gathered on the sleeping platform, but unlike chimpanzees they had no interest in touching one another. Instead they sat side-by-side in a long row, their dumb rigid feet sticking up like bony bookends, their bald muzzles devoid of expression or intelligence. The only movement came from a group of infants who were playing in the area underneath the platform. These mites were far more chimp-like. They rolled in the straw, they dangled from the handholds, they tickled and sported with one another.
Naturally it was these infants who were attracting the attention of what few visitors there were to the zoo. The chimps were, as ever, entranced by the human infants, and kept on fingering how like chimpanzee infants they were. Simon grasped Busner’s thick thigh and inparted, ‘If I see another chimp sign that they’re cute, I think I’m going to scream.’
‘Calm down “gru-unn”,’ Busner inparted in turn. ‘It’s only civil to allow Carchimp to hold forth for a bit before we get down to business.’
There were two adult humans who were attracting the chimps’ attention. A pair at the very back of the enclosure almost completely concealed behind a bale of straw. All that could be seen of them was the buttocks of one individual rising up and down, up and down; and clutched around the obscenely smooth bulges the feet of another. The chimps were pointing at this and fluttering about it, but none of them seemed to have any idea of what was going on. ‘Most unusual,’ Mick Carchimp gestured, seeing that Simon was fixated, ‘to see them mating during the day.’
‘ “H’huuu” mating?’
‘That’s right, you know, of course, that humans normally seek privacy for mating. I imagine that’s why this pair have attempted to conceal themselves behind the bale. The male will be the one on top, and those are the female’s feet grasped around his rump. It’s not exactly a pretty sight –’
‘They’ve been at it for ages!’ Busner chopped the air.
‘That’s right. As you may be aware, humans can take anything up to half an hour to achieve a full mating – there are even some reports of them taking far longer in the wild, although no one is quite sure why.’
Simon thought he might be sure why. He watched the buttocks rise and fall, rise and fall, and the jerking animals pulled back a vision of Sarah from the deep recesses of his mind. A vision of Sarah as a beautiful human moaning beneath him, her feet clutched around his plunging buttocks. ‘Please “huu”, I hate to be precipitate, Mr Carchimp –’
‘Please, denote me Mick,’ the primate keeper countersigned.
‘Mick, I don’t know whether Dr Hamble signed anything to you about the reason for our visit “huu”?’
‘He delineated that it was something to do with an individual human that you had an interest in.’
Simon lit a Bactrian and inhaled deeply, before continuing, ‘ “Hooo” that’s right. You see, I believe you have a programme where chimps can “euch-euch” adopt an animal, sort of sponsor its upkeep “huu”?’
‘That’s right, it’s part of the Lifewatch 2000 scheme. Is the human you’re interested in one of the adoptions “huu”?’
‘We believe so,’ Busner signed. ‘My ally Mr Dykes sponsored the animal on behalf of his infants. A male infant of about seven – it might be one of that group there. ’ He indicated the sporting human offspring.
‘We don’t have any infants of that precise age at the moment, but why not come to my office “huuu”? I have the stud book there and the Lifewatch register; between the two we should be able to find out what’s happened to your adoptive human.’
* * *
Carchimp’s office was at the back of the main administration building, but while removed from the immediate vicinity of the enclosures, there were still strong animal odours fugging it up. The office had little in the way of furniture, only a couple of battered filing cabinets and a small kneehole desk. Posters of phyletic trees were tacked on to the walls, togethe
r with flyers advertising veterinary drugs.
Knight’s crew crammed into the small room, along with Carchimp, Busner and Simon. The Director had scuttled off somewhere, signing about another television crew coming to film him.
They all indulged in a grooming session for five minutes, solidifying as chimps must the provisional hierarchy. Then Carchimp broke from the hispid huddle and swaggered over to a bookcase. He footed out a large ring binder from the bottom shelf and pulled a much thinner, glossier binder from the top shelf. These he brought back to the group on the floor. ‘This,’ he signed, ‘is the Lifewatch register. Can you recall, Mr Dykes, what the serial number of your adoptive human was “huu”?’
Simon looked nonplussed. ‘Serial number “huu”? No, you see, I adopted the human for my oldest male infant Magnus, and he denoted it … he denoted it Simon.’
‘Simon “huu”? We don’t really give our humans names for recording purposes, it’s veering rather too far in the direction of primatomorphising them, although naturally the keepers denote them for reasons of day-to-day convenience. And some of our Lifewatch literature certainly “euch-euch” primatomorphises. ’ He held up a leaflet which invited readers to consider ‘Groomin’ a Human’.
‘However, we can find your name in the register and get the animal’s serial number. Let me see …’ He began to leaf through the Lifewatch binder, ‘Dykes, Dykes, yes – here we are. Simon Dykes. You sponsored this individual, serial number 9234, to the tune of some five hundred pounds – a very generous donation.
‘Now, if I look in the stud book I can find out what’s happened to 9234. He could have been transferred to another zoo, or even somewhere else –’
‘He wouldn’t “hooo”’ – Simon chopped the air – ‘have been given over to some awful research project, would he “huu”?’
‘I can reassure you on that score Mr Dykes,’ signed Carchimp, and he came over to Simon and laid on soothing fingers, inparting, ‘We don’t like to do that with any of our humans, and this one having been sponsored it would look rather “euch-euch” bad if he ended up in a laboratory. Picture what the animal rights activists could do if they got hold of such information.’
Carchimp finished this massage of meaning with an iterative tweak and went back to the stud book. ‘Now, here we go, 9234. Simple when you see how, yes, he’s no longer with us, I’m afraid, he has been transferred –’
‘Where “hooo”, where to “huu”?’ Simon’s fingers scratched, his anxiety visible as well as palpable.
‘In a manner of signing, Mr Dykes, 9234 appears to have gone home.’
‘Home “huu”?’
‘That’s right, he’s one of the few humans to return from the developed world to Africa. 9234 has been included in a rather controversial programme to reintroduce humans to the wild. If you want to see him again, you’ll have to track him down.’
Simon squatted, stunned by this information. It was left to Busner to continue. ‘Show me, Mr Carchimp,’ he signed, ‘when you sign that 9234 has gone home, do you mean that he was actually born in Africa “huu”? That he’s a wild human?’
‘That would be extremely unlikely, Dr Busner. There are now so many humans in captivity in the West that there’s seldom any need for new specimens. Why, we have more than enough humans here and in common with many other zoos now have to castrate males when they reach puberty.’
Simon, who was watching this exchange of signs, shivered when he heard this. His sallow muzzle grew paler and he clutched his own genitals with an anguished, signless hand.
Busner pressed, ‘And why, may I ask, Mr Carchimp –’
‘Please, Your Ischial Refulgence, I would betoken it an honour if you too would ascript me Mick.’
‘ “Gru-nnn” Mick, then – why is it that you sign this programme is controversial “huu”?’
‘Well, as you may know’ – Carchimp adopted a relaxed posture – clearly he was going to conduct for a while – ‘the original programme to observe humans in the wild was set up by Dr Louis Leakey. He sent “gru-nn” Jane Goodall to the Gombe Stream Reservation in Tanzania to study humans; Dian Fossey to Rwanda to study the mountain gorilla; and Birute Galdikas to Sumatra to study the orangutan. While there has been controversy surrounding the work of all three females, they have also made undoubted and lasting contributions to anthropology.
‘Goodall has herself been involved in reintroduction programmes, but this particular one is “hooo” rather different. One of the field researchers she employed was a German female, Ludmilla Rauhschutz. Rauhschutz is extremely wealthy, and has distinctly eccentric notions about the relationship between humans and chimpanzees. Having split from Goodall, she has managed to bribe the Tanzanian government to allow her her own research station in the Gombe region. Here she both introduces chimpanzee tourists to wild humans, and attempts to reintroduce captive humans to the wild –’
‘Mick. ’ Simon roused himself and flagged the head keeper down. ‘ “H’hooo” can you show me why it should be that Leakey chose only females to study the humans “huu”?’
‘A good question, Simon. Leakey thought that human males in particular would find female chimps less disturbing. Humans, as you know, have no appreciable sexual swelling, so a male chimpanzee might attract unnecessary mating interest.’
‘I see.’
‘We don’t, as a rule, send humans to Rauhschutz, but occasionally, as in the case of this pubescent male, it seems worth a try. After all – it’s either that or castration. ’ And with this final remark Carchimp fell signless.
Later that evening Simon was curled up in nest, in the Busners’ spare room, watching an episode of Sub-Adult Dominant Chef. A male Simon recognised as the television presenter Lloyd Grosschimp was gesticulating with his guest, the equally media-friendly chef, Anton Mosichimp. The little muzzles of the aspirant sub-adult dominant chefs were crinkled up with anxiety as they watched the two big males begin to tussle. ‘“Euch-euch” Anton,’ Grosschimp signed in his affected Bostonian tempo, ‘it doesn’t suprise me that you weren’t enamoured of this young female’s soufflé, I don’t “hooo” believe that you have much affection for young females – or their soufflés – at all.’
‘What on earth are you “euch-euch” implying “huu”?’ countersigned the French chimp.
‘Nothing “h’hoo” nothing at all – you have three female infants, I believe “huuu” – ?’
But Simon didn’t get to see Mosichimp’s reply, because the nestroom door swung open and the former psychiatrist knuckle-walked in. Seeing the chimps on screen he flicked, ‘Mosichimp “h’hooo”. Know someone who knows him slightly. It’s rumoured he abuses his daughters – doesn’t mate them enough – or at all!’
‘Really. ’ Simon’s signing was as without expression as the Queen waving from her carriage on a state occasion.
‘What’s the matter, Simon “huuu”? Were you disturbed by the trip to the zoo “huu”?’
‘Of course I was.’
‘You still think that this human infant, 9234 –’
‘Not bloody 9234 “wraaa”! He’s denoted Simon “wraaa”!’
Busner retaliated instantly to this insubordination. Springing on to the nest he delivered a number of hard blows to Simon’s muzzle, his long arms windmilling. It took seconds to subdue the former artist, who yowled for mercy, struggling round in the nest to present to his alpha. Busner smoothed Simon’s ruffled fur and inparted, ‘That’s all right, “gru-nnn” I understand you’re upset, Simonkins, but I still can’t allow such insolence, I’m sure you appreciate that –’
‘I do, I do, I’m “chup-chupp” sorry, your ischial pleat means more to me than I can sign.’
‘I know, but the point is, do you still believe this human to be your missing infant, your Simon “huuu”?’
‘I don’t know why – but I do.’
‘Well. ’ The eminent natural philosopher – as he still styled himself – settled back on his haunches. ‘In that case I have
some news that may “grnn” please you.’
‘What’s that “huuu”?’
‘I’ve gesticulated with Alex Knight on this matter, and he signs that his company is fascinated by your case and prepared to put up the money.’
‘The money for what “huu”?’
‘For us to go to track down this human, for us to go to Africa.’
‘To Africa “huu”? But when?’
‘As soon as it can chimply be arranged.’
Chapter Twenty-One
The battered Toyota Landcruiser bucketed over the uneven, churned-up surface of the track, sending flobs and globs of liquidised mud high in the air. This sludge rained down on the bodies of the six chimps who were huddling together in the vehicle, necessitating ongoing and exhaustive grooming activities. Simon Dykes, once an artist, then a mental patient and now a chimp with a most unusual quest, was wedged in between the sound recordist, Janet Higson, and Bob the gofer.
Since the night when Busner had knuckle-walked in on Sub-Adult Dominant Chef, Simon’s days had been a whirl of preparation for the journey back to Africa. Visas had to be arranged, vaccinations obtained, clothing and other equipment purchased. And everywhere that Busner and Simon went – Alex Knight’s camcorder followed them.
‘It’s a question of background,’ the documentary maker signed. ‘I want to have plenty of footage that leads the viewer in to Simon’s first encounter with humans in the wild, and hopefully his meeting with 9234, the infant male he believes to be his missing offspring.’
To begin with the constant presence of the television crew unsettled and irritated Simon. There were four or five quite bad confrontations between him and Knight, three of them ending in violent incidents, incidents which Simon came out of better. Better in his relationship with Knight and better and more confident in himself. It was, Busner imagined privately, only to be predicted that what would bring the former artist most forcefully back to his physical being would be those most chimpmane activities, sex and violence.