Escape From The Planet Of The Apes

by Jerry Pournelle

  “Did you have legends of apes once having great civilizations?” Wilson asked. “I am asking you directly—is it not possible that wars among apes destroyed the cities and power plants and everything?”

  “Apes don’t have wars,” Zira protested. “Apes don’t kill apes.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Wilson said.

  “Yeah, you had an army, you said so,” Senator Yancey pointed out. “If there wasn’t anybody to fight, why’d you have an army?”

  “All right,” Cornelius said. “There were other ape settlements. Sometimes the gorillas would go fight them. But they didn’t have any weapons except rifles, that sort of thing. Nothing like the bombs we had legends about—all human weapons. Atom bomb. Does that word mean anything to you? It was a word we used to frighten children, but we weren’t sure it meant anything.”

  “It means something,” Yancey said.

  “Who did your army fight?” Wilson asked. “Another tribe of apes?”

  “Sometimes,” Cornelius said. “But chimpanzees are pacifists. We never had any part in that.”

  “You’re convinced all chimpanzees are pacifists,” Wilson said. “And that you’re total vegetarians too?”

  “Well—”

  “What are you trying to pull?” Wilson demanded. “Would you like to see the films? I have plenty. Chimpanzees hunting down baboons and eating them. Young baboons play with baby chimpanzees, and sometimes, for no reason, the big chimps will beat the little baboons to death, and the little chimps will eat their playmates—”

  “No!” Zira screamed. She looked faint.

  “Stop that!” Stevie said. She stood in anger, her fists hard against her hips. “Dr. Wilson, your remote ancestors used the thighbone of an antelope to beat other men to death so they could eat their brains! Not five hundred years ago, humans ate meat so rotten they had to put pepper on it to disguise the taste! And a thousand years ago your British ancestors were running around wearing nothing but blue paint. Now—”

  “Atta-girl!” Lewis shouted.

  “Young lady!” Chairman Hartley pounded his gavel. “Young lady! You will restrain yourself. Dr. Wilson, you will grant she has a point—”

  “Maybe,” Wilson said. “And maybe not. I’ve seen enough damn-fool articles trying to prove that apes ought to inherit the earth and we ought to get out of their way—”

  “I have never said that,” Cornelius pointed out. “Dr. Wilson, ladies and gentlemen of the Commission, we must get along with you. We are trapped here, permanently, hopelessly. There is no way we can ever return to our own time. We must live in a human-dominated society, and we must learn to like it. We have no choice in the matter. And we must do whatever we can to help you. It isn’t our fault if we don’t know enough.”

  “Absolutely correct,” Victor Hasslein said. “Professor Cornelius, some of my colleagues are, ah, perhaps overzealous. It is difficult for them to accept the simple fact that they are speaking to another intelligent being, not merely to an animal who talks. It was difficult for me, at first, and so I understand their problem. Perhaps, perhaps it would be better if we adjourn this session while my colleagues think about their position and examine their consciences. Give them and you some time to adjust. I so move.”

  “Second,” Cardinal MacPherson said. “Splendid thought, Victor.”

  “All in favor,” Hartley said. “I see we have a majority. Very well, this Commission stands adjourned.”

  TWELVE

  “That could have been sticky,” Lewis said. He sipped his coffee and relaxed in the apes’ hotel suite. “You can be certain they aren’t through, either.”

  “It was nice of Dr. Hasslein to adjourn the meeting,” Zira said. “I didn’t like him at first, but he seems to be a nice man.”

  “Maybe,” Lewis said. “Nice or not, he’s important. Nobody seems to know him well. I don’t think he has any personal life at all.”

  “Certainly he does,” Stevie said. “I’ve met his wife and children. He’s no monster, Lewis. A little cold, perhaps, but he’s very pleasant when he wants to be.”

  “When did you meet his family?” Lewis asked.

  “At school. It must have been, oh, a year or two ago. There was an advisory group coming through to review grant applications, and Dr. Hasslein was one of the reviewers. He brought his wife, and the dean asked me to entertain her. Turned out he’d brought two kids, too. He has three, but only the older two came.”

  “What’s Mrs. Hasslein like?” Lewis asked curiously. The chimps listened with interest.

  “Well, she’s not very big, really, but she gives the impression that she is,” Stevie said. “You know, she acts like an old mother hen. It seems a little out of place in such a small girl. But she keeps the children in line very nicely. Especially the—you know.”

  Lewis frowned. “I know what?”

  “Oh—you didn’t know,” Stevie said. “Well, one of the children is mongoloid. He’s about fourteen years old, with the intelligence of a six- or seven-year-old child.”

  “Poor Mrs. Hasslein,” Zira said.

  “She doesn’t let it bother her,” Stevie told them. “And they’ve done wonders with the boy. You wouldn’t think he could have learned so much. Dr. Hasslein is very patient with him. I watched them together.”

  “He’s showing me around the Museum of Natural History tomorrow,” Zira said. “I understand they have some marvelous specimens there. In our time there were so many species known only through records, thousands of extinct species. It should be interesting to see them displayed in their natural habitats.”

  “I suppose so, my dear,” Cornelius said. “I think, though, I should go with you.”

  “Nonsense,” Zira said. “You have an appointment with that British historian chap tomorrow and it’s the only chance you’ll have to see him. I’d be bored stiff sitting through that. It was nice of Dr. Hasslein to offer to show me around.”

  “Watch what you say to him,” Lewis warned. “I don’t know what his game is, but I don’t trust him.”

  “That’s silly,” Zira said. “If we’re going to be suspicious, then he’ll have a right to be suspicious of us. Pretty soon, nobody will trust anybody, and then where’ll we be?”

  “You can’t trust him now,” Cornelius reminded her. “You weren’t thinking of telling him the entire story, were you, my dear?”

  “No. I won’t without your permission. But I don’t like this deceit, I really don’t. It’s not natural.”

  Cornelius laughed. After a few moments the others did also. “Interspecies trust,” Cornelius said. “A new first.”

  “And I hope it lasts,” Stephanie added.

  A highly colorful display of the life cycle of the Monarch butterfly; a collection of birds, stuffed or skinned; rhino models; models of the Indian civilizations of the southwest, including a large model of the Aztec City of the Sun; all these and more. Zira rushed from one display to another, laughing joyfully, and driving her escorts half crazy as they tried to keep up with her.

  There was a large mockup of a hurricane, baleful eye of the storm calm in the midst of whirling winds. The artist had drawn it perfectly, and it was framed by satellite pictures of real hurricanes. Next to it was a display of photographs: the destruction of Bangladesh by the great typhoon of 1970.

  “How many were killed?” Zira asked.

  Hasslein looked pained. “Hundreds of thousands. No one knows for sure. Possibly as many as half a million people.”

  “I don’t think there were that many apes, or humans, on earth in my time,” Zira said. They went on through the meteorology section to a display of dinosaur bones and models.

  “Do you know what happened to all those people?’ Hasslein asked. “There are nearly three billion on earth now. Perhaps more.”

  Zira pointed to the dinosaurs. “What happened to them?”

  “We are not sure,” Hasslein said. “It was apparently time for them to go. They went. Perhaps small mammals developed and ate the
eggs of the big lizards. Perhaps the climate changed and they could no longer get enough to eat. No one is certain. But do you think it is time for the human race to leave the earth?”

  “It hadn’t in my time,” Zira said.

  “But apes were dominant,” Hasslein prompted. “Humans did not talk and had no civilization . . .”

  “Not in my part of the world,” Zira said. “I suppose I’m getting tired. Perhaps we should go now. It’s been a very nice day.”

  “And it can still be,” Hasslein said smoothly. “I will not press you again. You do understand, it’s a question that is very important to me. To all of us. What can have happened to the human race? Perhaps we are about to make some mistake—a mistake we can do something about.”

  “But—” Zira stopped and looked at him. Her eyes widened. “Do you think you can change the future? We came from the future! What we saw had already happened!”

  “But it has not happened yet,” Hasslein said. He was very serious. “And thus need not happen.”

  “But—what of us?” Zira demanded. “If you do something to prevent our world from ever existing, won’t Cornelius and I just—vanish?”

  Hasslein shook his head. “I doubt it. You are here. You are part of the present, not the future, even though you came from the future.”

  Zira shrugged and turned away. She began to walk down the corridor again, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. “I don’t think I understand all this, and it gives me a headache.”

  Hasslein laughed. “It does me, too.” They turned the corner and entered the primate room.

  The display was dominated by the centerpiece: an 800 pound male gorilla, magnificently erect, with clenched fists. His dead, glassy eyes stared at the door and seemed to bore through Hasslein and Zira. Around him there were other displays, but he seemed to fill the room, to grow larger and larger, until Zira could see nothing else.

  The room seemed to swirl about, and Zira felt dizzy. Slowly she fell against Hasslein. The scientist held her for a moment, then gently lowered her to the floor. The attendants ran up.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Can we do anything?’’

  “Send for Dr. Dixon,” Hasslein said. “Are you all right, Zira?”

  “It must have been the shock of the gorilla,” a Marine bodyguard said.

  Zira opened her eyes. “Shock, my foot. I’m pregnant.”

  “Good Heavens,” Hasslein said. “And we’ve worn you out with all this walking and looking. Let’s get you home.”

  “Dr. Dixon will be here soon,” Victor Hasslein said. “Are you sure you are all right? The ride back home didn’t tire you too much?”

  “I’m fine. You can go now, Dr. Hasslein. Thank you.”

  “Oh, no, Zira,” Hasslein said. “I shan’t leave you until Cornelius or Dr. Dixon get here. No, no, I insist. Is there anything I can get you?”

  She leaned back on the couch and kicked off her shoes, sighing in relaxation. “Well, I have a strange craving—”

  “That’s only natural under the circumstances. What can I get you?”

  “Grape Juice Plus.”

  “What? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “It’s in the refrigerator,” Zira said. “Re-frig-er-a-tor. I said it right, didn’t I? We call it an icebox.”

  “Refrigerator. Certainly. I’ll get it.” Hasslein went to the suite kitchenette. There were three bottles of California champagne in the refrigerator, and he smiled softly to himself. He looked through the cupboards until he found a large wine goblet, then opened the champagne and filled the glass. He brought the bottle with him into the living room.

  “Here you go,” he said. “Grape Juice Plus.” Hasslein winked at Zira.

  She winked back. “But I shouldn’t drink this much . . .”

  “Oh, come now,” Hasslein said. “You’re not that far along, are you?”

  “Pretty far,” Zira said.

  “Well, a little champagne never hurt anyone. How long have you known you were—uh, going to have a child?”

  “Since well before the war.” She took a deep drink of the champagne and smacked her lips. “That’s very good. Anyway, I knew since before the war, and that was another reason we wanted to escape. We couldn’t know what would happen.”

  Hasslein took out his cigarette case and set it on the table. “Perhaps I shouldn’t smoke—”

  “Oh, it doesn’t bother me,” Zira said. “It seems a very silly habit, though.”

  “It is. One much easier to take up than to quit, it seems. Thank you.” He lit a cigarette, and left the case on the coffee table in front of the couch. “You say you don’t know against whom the war was fought?”

  “Not really,” Zira said. She took another gulp of champagne. Hasslein casually filled her glass again. “Just that there were some—uh, apes, living underground in the next district, and the army decided to fight them.“

  Hasslein nodded agreement. “Ordinary citizens often are not asked about such things. Who won your war?”

  “It wasn’t our war,” Zira protested, her speech slurring. She gulped more wine. “It was the gorillas’ war. They’re always fighting about something. Chimpanzees are pacifists. We never did see an enemy.”

  “Oh.” Hasslein filled her glass again, then took a seat and stretched his feet out in front of him. “Hard day today, wasn’t it?”

  “A little,” Zira agreed. They chatted about the museum for a while, as Hasslein continued to keep her glass full.

  “Surely you know which side won the war,” Hasslein said finally.

  “Neither side won,” Zira said. “The stupid fools. We told them . . .”

  Hasslein frowned. “Just what did happen, then?”

  “When we were in space . . . we saw the light. A blinding bright white light, it was horrible. The rim of the world seemed to melt! The whole earth must have been destroyed. Dr. Milo thought it had been. Then there was—I don’t know. Then we were here.” She lifted her glass again and drank more wine, spilling several drops on the table and drooling more down her chin.

  “I feel very sleepy,” she said. “Magnificently sleepy. I think I shouldn’t drink any more.”

  “Probably you’re right,” Hasslein agreed. “Tell me, Zira, what was the date in your time?”

  “Thirty-nine . . . fifty-five.”

  Hasslein whistled. “That’s a long time from now. Nearly two thousand years. How far back did you have records?”

  “I don’t know. Cornelius would have better information. We had some records, copies of human records, that go back into your past, Dr. Hasslein. But we didn’t have details of anything much over a thousand years old.”

  “I see. You are getting sleepy, and here comes Dr. Dixon. He’ll see you get to bed.” Hasslein retrieved his cigarette case as Lewis came in.

  “You’re all right?” Lewis demanded. “I was told she had a fainting spell.”

  “Nothing to be worried about,” Hasslein assured him. “But perhaps you don’t know. Madame Zira will be a mother shortly. I’ll leave you with your patient, Dr. Dixon. Good afternoon.”

  Lewis watched Hasslein put his cigarette case in his pocket and leave the suite. He watched until the scientist was gone, and then turned to Zira, noting the nearly empty champagne bottle, and Zira’s slack smile. Just what had Hasslein learned? And what would he do with the knowledge? Lewis Dixon was suddenly afraid.

  THIRTEEN

  It was warm in Washington, far too warm, and the president wished he were back in the Western White House in California. If it were left to him he’d move the whole government out there, except it couldn’t really be done. All those bureaus and bureaucrats—of course, he could do without a lot of them, but not without the embassies. He sighed again thinking about California, then buzzed his secretary.

  “Who’s next, Mary Lynn?”

  “Dr. Hasslein, Mister President.”

  “Oh.” He sighed again. What would Victor want this time? He seemed so
upset about the chimpanzees. “All right. Send him in.”

  Hasslein came, into the oval office and stood, straight and still, in front of the president’s desk. Except for the military people, Hasslein was the only man who stood quite that way, and the president often wondered if the scientist were a frustrated soldier.

  “What can I do for you, Victor?”

  “I made a tape last week, Mister President. While I interviewed the female chimpanzee. I’d like you to listen to it.”

  “All right.” The president got up from behind the big desk and came around to the couch on the other side. He motioned Hasslein to a chair. “Can I get you anything, Victor? A beer, perhaps? I’ll have one myself.”

  “No, thank you, sir.” He set the small tape recorder/player on the coffee table and waited until the president had opened the beer he took from the refrigerator under the end table.

  “Just how did you get that tape?”

  “With a clandestine recorder the CIA people gave me. A cigarette case.” Hasslein started the tape. It began with his own voice—“How long have you known you were—uh, going to have a child?” Zira answered. Eventually it ended.

  The president drank the last of his beer. “So?”

  “So?” Hasslein stood and paced angrily. “So Mister President, we have evidence that some day talking apes will dominate the earth. They will live in a civilization, if you can call it that, with very little science and no technology. Humans will be dumb animals, probably mistreated. And in less than two thousand years those apes will destroy the earth, killing themselves and all humans as well.”

  “I doubt we will be in office then,” the president said.

  “Really, sir, I am serious.”

  “So am I, Victor. I have an oath to uphold and defend the Constitution, and to preserve and protect the people and nation. I don’t see how these apes are much of a threat to that oath—or, for that matter, what I am supposed to do about a theoretical threat to the earth that doesn’t mature for almost two thousand years.”