Inside the main building, in a scrub room just off the main surgical theater, Kira, the young female chimpanzee, was washing her hands beneath a running faucet. She was still dressed in her surgical gown. Behind her, other apes on the medical staff were washing up after surgery.
The door to the scrub room opened and a chimpanzee entered. This male chimpanzee was middle-aged, with an easy, confident, subtly arrogant manner. He was sure of his authority and the way he carried himself indicated that he felt there was no interpretation of the world other than his. Kira did not see him as he came in; she was preoccupied and somewhat depressed. The male chimpanzee called her by name. “Kira.”
She stopped washing and turned. She was briefly startled, but then she seemed obviously gratified to see the chimpanzee, despite her depression. “Director Leander,” she said. “How kind of you to come by.” Her voice was glad at his presence, but still worried about something else.
“I watched the operation,” said Leander. “You did a brilliant job. I have to congratulate you again on your technique. You are an inspiration to all of us.”
“It is an old joke, and a very bad one,” said Kira. “Unfortunately, the patient died.” She turned away to finish her washing.
Leander crossed the room, smiling indulgently, and put one arm around Kira’s shoulders. The female surgeon did not react to his intimate gesture, even though such a show of affection was quite out of place in the hospital. Leander was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice that Kira had not responded. “The patient may well have died, but the operation itself was a success,” he said. “Look at it this way. The surgical knowledge we learn from these failures will someday help other patients, and other surgeons.”
Kira finished washing and turned off the water. She dried her hands and arms on a stiff white towel. “That’s not a particularly satisfying philosophy,” she said. “Try to comfort the patient’s family with that. I’ll have to use the conventional apology, and, believe me, it is never easy. It may be a long time since you had to tell someone that their loved one has died on the operating table. Maybe it’s been too long.”
“Are you angling for my position already, Kira?” asked Leander with a smile. Kira only sighed. There was no way that she was going to get through to him.
“No, of course not,” she said. “I just think that you may have lost touch with the personal side of medicine. Everything is a cold and mechanical experiment with you.”
Leander smiled again. “Do you think I’m cruel? You can tell me the truth.”
“Tell the truth to my employer?” asked Kira with mock astonishment. “I could be fired for such recklessness.”
Leander removed his arm from Kira’s shoulders. “Only a fool would fire his best and most beautiful surgeon,” he said. There was a short pause. “I’ll see you at the conference tonight, won’t I?” he asked at last.
Kira looked at him, a little confused. “What conference?” she asked. There were always so many meetings to attend, and so much paper work to claim her attention, besides her regular rounds and surgical work, that she often had to be reminded by her secretary of appointments. But the secretary had said nothing about a departmental conference for that evening.
Leander tried to look serious as he answered her question. It was apparent to Kira that Leander was playing one of his transparent jokes. “It’s just a private lecture I’m giving,” he said. “On the therapeutic virtues of vegetable casserole and apricot wine. I’m holding it in my apartment, at eight.”
“Is attendance mandatory?” asked Kira.
Leander laughed softly. As far as he knew, she had not guessed the truth yet. “Only for you,” he said, and laughed again.
“Well,” said Kira, laughing to let Leander know that she finally understood, “in that case, I’ll be there.” Silently, she wondered how such a likable chimpanzee as Leander could still be as insufferable as he was at times. She touched his arm in a small gesture of affection, and left the scrub room. Leander watched her go with a look of even greater emotion, mingled with self-congratulation about what a witty and sophisticated fellow he was.
Kira headed down the corridor, past numerous bustling hospital personnel. There was the regular ape staff in white uniforms, and a human or two doing menial chores as sweepers and orderlies. Kira did not acknowledge the greetings that she received from them; her thoughts were on the patient she had just lost, and on her duty to the patient’s family. She reached a door at the end of the corridor, opened it, and stepped into her office.
When Kira entered the room, it was dark. She crossed to the windows, opened the curtains and let in the light. She stood gazing out of the windows thoughtfully, thinking about many things, thinking about her position, her responsibilities, the honor her success brought her, the pain her failures represented. She thought about Leander, and about others in her life, and about the normal home life she had forsaken for her career. She glanced around her office, at the symbols of that lifestyle she had chosen: desk, table, chairs, cabinets, shelves of primitive medical instruments, books. Kira took off her surgical gown and turned toward the small cupboard. She jumped and uttered a shocked cry when she saw Galen standing in a dimly lit corner.
“Hello, Kira,” he said. He did not move. His voice was soft. Kira did not know whether that was because of his emotions or his fear of discovery.
Kira was still too stunned by Galen’s sudden presence to speak. She stared at him for several seconds, holding her gown, one hand still reaching for the door to the cupboard. “Galen!” she said at last. “What are you doing here?”
Galen, too, was overcome by his feelings. He did not know what to do, now that he had accomplished the difficult part of his journey, getting into the hospital compound unrecognized. “I thought that it might be time for my annual checkup,” he said in a poor attempt to make light conversation.
“Are you insane?” asked Kira. “You’re a criminal—a traitor!”
Kira’s words, and the tone of her voice, made Galen uncomfortable. This was certainly not the welcome he had hoped for and he was visibly shaken. “I didn’t expect to hear that from you,” he said sadly.
Kara shook her head. It was plain to her that Galen hadn’t changed much in the long time since their earlier relationship. He hadn’t yet learned to accept the consequences of his actions. “What did you expect?” she asked, her voice hard and uncompromising.
Galen took a deep breath. He realized that he wouldn’t be able to appeal to her as a former friend. He would have to approach her in her capacity as one of the best and most renowned doctors in the ape world. “I need help,” he said. There was an uncomfortable pause. “One of my friends is hurt.”
Kira looked even more startled than before. She closed the cupboard door after hanging up the surgical gown. She looked steadily at Galen. “Your friends!” she said. “Don’t you think that I know who your friends are? The only friends you have are renegade humans!”
“They’re as good as we are, Kira,” said Galen quietly.
Kira was even more shocked. “Is that what you’ve come to?” she asked, outraged. “Putting us on the same level as animals? I shouldn’t even be listening to you. I should be calling the police.”
Galen pointed to the door, at the gorilla police that lurked beyond it, everywhere in the ape world, under the orders of General Urko, to punish the slightest misstep by citizen or human slave. “They’d kill me,” said Galen simply.
Kira moved her mouth, but no words came. She was in the grip of a terrible conflict. She had once been extremely fond of Galen, but she understood that there was a point at which loyalty ended and duty began. Still, she couldn’t quite bring herself to summon the gorilla guards. She knew how brutal they were, and how unlucky were the apes and humans who fell into their charge, no matter what the offense. But long years of indoctrination controlled her mind. “They’d be doing justice,” she said.
There was a long silence; the hatred in her words hung hea
vy in the air. Kira had tried to mask that feeling, but it had shone throught nonetheless. Her previous affection had been conquered by her revulsion to Galen’s notorious behavior.
Galen thought for a few moments, and memories of the happiness he had shared with Kira were prominent in his mind. “I loved you once,” he said in a quiet voice. “To hear these words from you now . . . I’m sorry I came.”
Galen shrugged his broad shoulders and turned to leave through the window. Kira called to him, afraid to let him leave, afraid, too, to let him stay. “Galen,” she said.
Galen turned around again and waited. He said nothing. Kira continued, making nervous gestures, her mind in a turmoil of conflict. “You were a decent, law-abiding ape once,” she said somberly. “What happened to you?”
Galen remained silent again for several seconds. How could he outline for her all the things he had seen, all the things he had learned, since he had first begun his acquaintance with Virdon and Burke? Could he convince her that the astronauts were as educated—more importantly, as intelligent—as any ape in Central City? Could he hope to tell her of the wonders he had helped the two men perform, of the spirit of comradeship that had grown among them? Because only if he could, could he have the slightest hope of winning Kira’s aid. “I had a terrible accident,” he said at last. “I collided with the truth: that apes and humans are meant to be equals, not masters and slaves.”
Kira’s face formed an involuntary frown. She still considered human beings to be less than slaves, to be a form of trainable animal. To her mind Galen was not suggesting that apes raise humans to their level. She thought that he wanted to lower apes to their level. And this idea was entirely repugnant to her. She saw human beings every day, working servile jobs about the hospital. She had not the slightest feeling of fellowship with the creatures, and no desire to extend a benevolent hand to them. “You really believe that?” she asked incredulously.
“Yes,” said Galen.
“And to help you, I must help them?”
Galen nodded. “They are my brothers now.”
There was another long silence. Then, in a voice filled with anguish and despair, Kira said, “I thought I had forgotten you, that I had a chance to find new happiness. I should have known you’d come back to destroy me.”
Galen could only stare, the force of her bitter words still stinging his mind. How things had changed, to bring Kira to say such a thing. Galen had had no idea he was so hated by his people and that Kira would share that hatred. He could only stare.
It was growing dark in the wooded area by the stream where Burke and Virdon were camping, waiting for Galen’s return. The night was clear, and the stars began to come out; Burke noticed again that the familiar constellations of his former life had changed slightly but noticeably. It was only another reminder that a great deal of time had passed since the fateful day when he and Virdon embarked on their interstellar mission of discovery. He shrugged; he could make a new life in this strange world. It was Virdon who remembered the strong ties that bound him to the old days. Burke thought gratefully that he had no family and few friends to call to him across the vast chasm of millennia.
Burke tended the embers of their cooking fire. Virdon, meanwhile, was still awake, resting uncomfortably on a bed of leaves and pine needles. Suddenly, there was a noise. Burke whirled, grabbing for the thick tree limb that he had chosen for a weapon. While thoughts of accidental discovery chased through Burke’s mind, Galen stepped forward into the dim fight of the clearing, carrying a sack over his shoulder. Burke relaxed. “What took so long?” he asked.
“I had to pick up a medical degree,” said Galen lightly. He took a medical uniform from the sack. “This is for the renowned specialist, Dr. Adrian.” From the sack he took out a human’s orderly uniform. Both suits were marked with the ape’s head and three red circles. “And this is for his faithful servant. Under the circumstances, it was the best position available.”
“As long as the job offers me opportunities for advancement,” said Burke.
“We’ll be lucky to end up where we started from,” said Galen soberly.
Virdon watched Galen’s proud display with some misgivings. He felt completely helpless; this was one time when all their combined cleverness could not get them out of their difficulty. They needed help from a qualified doctor, and, he realized, all of those were apes. Virdon did not wait to hear Galen’s plan. He had learned from experience that the well-intentioned chimpanzee’s schemes were always a little extravagant and a bit unorthodox. “Look,” said Virdon, “even if this crazy masquerade works, the hospital is miles away, isn’t it? I can’t even stand, much less walk that far.”
Galen walked closer to the blond astronaut, shaking his shaggy head. “Oh, my dear Alan, a patient of your importance should not have to walk at all.” The ape turned to Burke, who stood nearby with a perplexed expression. “Right, Pete?” asked Galen.
Burke looked up, startled. “Huh? Oh, yeah, right. Sure,” he said.
Later that night, on a country road not far from their campsite, Burke, Virdon, and Galen waited. None of them spoke; this was a critical part of Galen’s plan. Virdon did not hold out a good deal of hope that it would work, but he had no alternative to offer. After a while they saw the blaze of a torch approaching along the road. Galen carried Virdon into the shrubbery along the edge of the road, and Burke stood silently where he was.
The torch was carried by a uniformed gorilla, who was carrying a rifle in his other hand. He rode alongside a human driver on a horse-drawn food cart. They both caught sight of Burke at the same moment. The human looked questioningly at the gorilla, but the ape made no sign for a few seconds. Then, having reached a decision in his slow mind, he signalled for the driver to stop the cart. The gorilla raised his rifle and shouted. “You,” he cried. “What are you doing out after curfew?”
“My cart broke down,” said Burke plaintively. “I was going on to the village to get some help.”
The gorilla considered Burke’s words for several seconds. His low intelligence made him suspicious of everyone, because he had been tricked often in his life. The gorilla came to the conclusion at last that there was no way of proving the matter by discussion. The gorilla’s human driver never made an attempt to say anything. “Let me see your identity card,” said the gorilla, still pointing the rifle squarely at Burke’s chest.
Burke nodded and began reaching into a pocket. As he did so, he looked past the gorilla, to the opposite side of the road. There was movement in the dense undergrowth, but there was no noise. The gorilla was unaware of anything but Burke and his slowness to comply.
“All right,” said the gorilla, “let’s have it.”
“Just a second,” said Burke, putting a fearful edge on his voice. “I just may have left my papers in the cart.”
The gorilla snorted. “That’s a stupid thing to do. Just like a human, eh?” he asked his driver. The silent human only shrugged.
Meanwhile, Burke watched as Galen sneaked out of the bushes behind the cart. Suddenly, Burke pointed away from Galen and shouted in sudden alarm. “That comet,” he cried, “it’s headed right for us!”
The gorilla turned to look; Burke knocked the rifle from the ape’s hand, then picked it up and clouted the gorilla with it. Galen jumped the human driver and knocked him from the cart, and pinned the man to the ground. Burke checked on the gorilla; the ape was unconscious. Burke emptied the gorilla’s rifle, then tossed the gun into the bushes. He walked up to the terrified driver. “You’re not a slave any longer,” he said. “Get going. You’ll discover that there are places where you can live a free life, unbothered by the apes and their gorilla stooges. But not around here.”
“They’ll hunt me down,” said the man in horror. “Do you know what they do to runaway slaves?”
“You do what you want,” said Burke, sighing. “Goodbye and good luck.”
Burke motioned to Galen, and the chimpanzee let the driver go. Burke and Galen watc
hed silently as the man ran off down the road, back in the direction he came from. “Well,” said Galen, “perhaps it is as our schoolbooks always said. That some creatures—humans—did not deserve freedom, because they did not know what to do with it and are not prepared to risk anything to gain it.”
“It does seem as though most humans have lost the desire to fight for their freedom,” said Burke slowly. “But that might not be their fault. And everyone deserves freedom. It’s an inalienable right.”
“What?” asked Galen.
“Something we wrote a long time ago, Galen,” said Burke. “In the Declaration of Independence. A piece of paper that seems to have gotten lost in the shuffle.” The chimpanzee did not answer. Burke roused himself from his thoughts and hurried with Galen to the bushes, behind which Virdon was still lying. Together, man and chimpanzee lifted the blond astronaut onto the cart, and pulled a tarpaulin over him. Virdon winced with pain, but he did not cry out. Galen took the gorilla’s seat, and Burke took the reins; the cart started to move off along the road.
The room was softly lit by candles. The drapes were tied open, and the lights in other chambers across the courtyard shone as bright yellow points of light. The stars burned steadily in the black sky. Leander and Kira, at opposite ends of a table, were having dinner in the director’s quarters. He looked at Kira, who seemed distracted and lost in thoughts of her own. “You don’t seem very excited about my vegetable casserole,” said Leander. “Did I put in too much honey?”’
Planet of the Apes 02 - Escape to Tomorrow Page 2