Planet of the Apes Omnibus 1

by Michael Angelo Avallone

  “I suppose. Only, Henry…”

  “Yeah?”

  “You really shouldn’t speak of them as Gooks and Chinks. It isn’t nice.”

  “Yeah.” They both laughed, and Amalfi went back into the interrogation room.

  “This will have about the same effect as ‘Grape Juice Plus’,” Lewis told her. “You’ll get sleepy…”

  “And drunk,” she said.

  “More or less. OK, count backwards from ten, please,” Lewis said.

  “Sure. Ten—nine—eight—seven—seven—six…”

  “That’s fine. Just keep it up.”

  “Five—four—four…”

  “What’s after four?”

  “I don’t know—two? I’m very tired.”

  Lewis looked up to Hasslein. “We’re ready.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Dixon. You may go now.”

  “No, sir,” Dixon said. “This chimpanzee is my patient, and I’m staying here.”

  Hasslein said nothing. Lewis met his steady gaze. “Dr. Hasslein, I am both a member of the Presidential Commission, and the attending physician. If you have me put out of here I’ll make so much noise you’ll be hearing about it for the next ten years.” Lewis spoke very quietly so that he wouldn’t disturb Zira, but his voice was hard and determined. Hasslein nodded. “Very well. Mr. Amalfi, you may begin.”

  “Zira,” Amalfi said. “You remember me? I’m your friend.”

  “Friend…”

  “Have you ever worked in a room like this one?” he asked.

  “Yes. Mine was larger. But not so—pretty.”

  “Pretty? I wouldn’t call this room pretty,” Amalfi said.

  “The equipment is lovely,” she muttered. “Really beautiful equipment. We never had such good equipment.”

  “I see. And you had assistants?”

  “Three. Three assistants, all chimpanzees. And one orangutan worked with us, sometimes…”

  “And what did you do in your laboratory?”

  “Comparative studies.”

  “Comparative studies of what?” Amalfi asked.

  “Comparative ana—ana…”

  “Comparative anatomy?”

  “Yes,” the sleepy voice answered.

  Hasslein looked at Lewis with both triumph and sadness in his eyes. “You knew?” he asked softly.

  Lewis didn’t answer.

  “Traitor,” Hasslein said coldly. “Continue, Amalfi.”

  “What anatomies did you compare?”

  The chimpanzee rocked gently on the table. There was no answer. Finally Amalfi said, “Human and ape anatomy? Is that it?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Do you mean yes? Say yes if you mean yes. Did you compare human and ape anatomies?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you dissected other apes? All species of apes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where did you get them?”

  “Dead apes. From hospitals, and morgues.”

  “But to do comparative studies, you had to dissect humans as well, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. As they were—as they were made available.”

  “I see. How were they made available, Zira?”

  “The gorillas hunted them. For sport. They used nets, and guns, and traps. Sometimes they caught them alive, and kept them in cages…”

  “And what did they do with the humans they kept in cages, Zira?” Amalfi asked. His voice was carefully controlled, calm and friendly, but he looked away with hatred and disgust.

  “The army used them for target practice, some of them. We had our pick of the others, for scientific experiments. Some were very good specimens.”

  “I see.” Amalfi’s voice came alive, matching Zira’s enthusiasm. “And you could make so many scientific discoveries that way. You dissected and removed and compared—”

  “Bones, muscles, tendons, veins, arteries, kidneys, livers, hearts, stomachs, reproductive organs. Everything. We did very careful work. We mapped the nervous systems, and reflexes—”

  “Reflexes,” Hasslein hissed. He looked at Dixon, then at Amalfi. “What does she mean, reflexes?”

  “Reflexes?” Amalfi said. “But dead humans don’t have reflexes.”

  “Of course not,” Zira protested. “I told you we did good work. We used living specimens. You can’t make a dead man’s knee jump, or test a corpse’s reactions to a prefrontal lobotomy.”

  “Then you were very advanced,” Amalfi said. “So much so that you were able to do experimental brain surgery on living humans?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many survived?”

  “Quite a few. Of course we lost a lot of them, too, but that was only to be expected,” Zira said. “But my main project is to stimulate the atrophied speech centers of the humans.”

  “Have you had any success?”

  “Not yet,” Zira said. “I mean, not now—not anymore? Where am I?”

  “She’s coming around,” Hasslein said. “Another injection, Dr. Dixon.”

  “I think not,” Lewis said. When Hasslein started to protest, Lewis said, “If you kill this intelligent, speaking chimpanzee, you’ll answer for it to the president. I won’t take the responsibility, and I doubt you’ll find another doctor who will.”

  “What about Colonel Taylor?” Amalfi asked. “Did you stimulate his speech centers?”

  “Of course not,” Zira snapped. “He could talk already.” There was a sharp sound from Hasslein as he drew in a deep breath. He nodded to Amalfi, then looked at Lewis again, the same look of sadness and triumph mingled.

  “There were three men in Colonel Taylor’s ship,” Amalfi said.

  “Yes,” Zira answered. “There was one who—somehow—died.”

  “Died?”

  “Yes. Before we found that he could talk. The gorillas killed him. He had a unique skin, something we’d never seen before, until we came here. We had him stuffed and put in the museum—like the gorilla I saw in your museum.”

  “What do you mean, this human had a unique skin?”

  “It was black,” Zira said. “Coal black. He dominated the room in the Museum of Natural History.”

  “Lieutenant Dodge,” Hasslein whispered. “What happened to Taylor?”

  “Did you dissect Colonel Taylor?” Amalfi asked.

  “No! We loved Colonel Taylor.”

  “All of you? All apes?”

  “Many of us,” she said. “We did everything we could to help him. Cornelius and I—”

  She struggled against the restraining straps on the table. Dixon quickly stepped over and looked at her. “That’s all,” he said. “And no, Dr. Hasslein, I won’t give her another injection.”

  “Cornelius!” Zira called. She opened her eyes and looked wildly around, but she could see only Lewis Dixon.

  “It’s all right,” Lewis said. “Go to sleep now.” He turned to Hasslein. “She’ll need a nap.”

  “Very well.” Hasslein opened the door to admit a white-coated young Marine. “Orderly, take this chimpanzee to its quarters, and see that Dr. Dixon gets anything he needs for treating it.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tommy Billings, age nineteen, went over to the operating table. “Hey, she’s really out, isn’t she? Come on, girl, it’s all right now. Let’s get you back to your room.” He looked up at Hasslein and Dixon. “You didn’t hurt her, did you? You got no cause to hurt her. She never did anything—”

  “Just return that chimpanzee to its room, Orderly,” said Hasslein.

  “Yes, sir.” As he wheeled the rolling table out, he spoke gently to the sleeping form. “Come on, nobody’s going to hurt you now. Tommy’ll take care of you. I like monkeys. We had three pet monkeys and a chimp in the little zoo next to my high school. I took care of ’em sometimes. You just come on…” They left the room.

  “I think we have heard enough,” Hasslein said.

  “Heard enough for what?” Lewis Dixon demanded.

  “Come now, Dr. Dixon. Even you see the danger from these
apes. But if you don’t, yet, I’m sure you will when I’ve finished my presentation to the Commission. You’ll understand then.”

  17

  Victor Hasslein’s voice was low and urgent as he spoke to the commissioners. “I think,” he said, “that I have adequately demonstrated my points; allow me to sum up.” He looked across at the dozen men and women seated at the big mahogany table in the Federal Building. He had them all, he was sure; all, that is, except Dixon. And possibly Cardinal MacPherson. The rest would agree.

  “First,” Hasslein said, “I have demonstrated that these apes can interbreed with primitive apes, and produce a talking species; and without that admixture, it is unlikely that apes will learn to talk within the next thousand years at least.”

  There were murmurs of agreement from the commissioners. “Second,” Hasslein continued, “I have demonstrated that the development of talking apes would be an unprecedented and unparalleled catastrophe. In the future to which these apes belong, not only did the apes revolt against man, but after that revolt, it seems clear to me, the apes hunted down all the men who could speak or act rationally; they systematically destroyed every last trace of human culture. This was the reward they meted out to us for having given them the power of speech!”

  “Surely, Dr. Hasslein, that has not been established beyond doubt,” Cardinal MacPherson said.

  “Perhaps not, Your Eminence,” Hasslein replied. “But we do know, that the apes revolted against men; and within a few centuries, men could no longer speak. It is a reasonable supposition.”

  “I see,” the Cardinal said. He nodded slowly.

  “Thirdly, I submit to you that this female chimpanzee has been guilty of the most unspeakable tortures of humans; and that although she personally did not kill Colonel Taylor, her people did, along with Lieutenant Dodge—whom they exhibited, stuffed, in a museum.” Hasslein looked straight into Congressman Boyd’s eyes as he said this; and was rewarded with a look of pure hatred. Boyd was ready to vote for anything.

  “The president is waiting for your recommendation, ladies and gentlemen,” Hasslein said. “We are faced with a danger, not to the United States alone, but to the entire human race. I say we must act.”

  “But surely,” Chairman Hartley said, “surely, Dr. Hasslein, there could be no danger from these chimpanzees if they remain confined and under our control?”

  Hasslein shrugged. “Gentlemen. Ladies. I haven’t time to explain my notion of the meaning of time itself—no joke intended. But I can say this: the future is not unalterable, but the very fact that, to these apes, that bleak and horrifying world in which our descendants live as dumb brutes has happened makes it very likely that it will happen. So long as those apes are alive, their genes may, somehow, enter the breeding pool for all apes. So long as they are alive, they are a danger to every man who will ever live! To the descendants of every one of us.”

  “Very dramatic,” the cardinal said. “As I have no descendants and no likelihood of any, I can speak with a certain detachment, and I say that neither of these chimpanzees is guilty of anything worthy of the death penalty. We would not execute dogs on that evidence. Why should we kill intelligent, speaking, aware beings?”

  “Come now, Your Eminence, you are hardly suggesting that these apes have souls?” Chairman Hartley demanded. “Surely—”

  “I make no suggestion of the sort,” the cardinal said. “I don’t have to. On the other hand, I don’t really feel comfortable about the world Dr. Hasslein describes. It is grim, and should be prevented. I do not think, however, that evil can be prevented by greater evil. The slaughter of the innocents did Herod little good. It was not successful for Pharaoh. Why would not the very attempt bring about the evil we seek to prevent? It always has.”

  Hasslein snorted. “Admirable sentiment, but faulty reasoning. If we do nothing, then the future these apes come from is likely. We must prevent that. We must!”

  Chairman Hartley rapped for order. “Gentlemen! Ladies! Please! Dr. Hasslein, I realize that the president wants a decision as quickly as possible. I suggest we have a half hour recess to regain our composure, and that we then meet here to make a definitive decision as to what must be done with these apes. Do I hear any objections? It is so ordered.” The gavel fell.

  * * *

  It took three days, not three hours. Even then there was no unanimity to the decision. It was late in the evening when the Commission met for the last time. Lewis Dixon sat impassively, but there was a bitter taste in his mouth, and his throat was dry.

  Dr. Hartley read to the commissioners. “It is my duty to announce that the president has accepted and approved the following final findings and recommendations made by this special Commission.

  “First, we find no evidence whatever that either of these apes bears any hostility toward the human race as presently constituted, or that either ape represents, by himself or herself, a clear and present danger to the human race. This finding was unanimous.”

  There were murmurs of assent around the table. That one had been easy enough.

  “Second,” Hartley droned. “We find that the male chimpanzee known as Cornelius has not, so far as we can determine, taken any part in atrocities against human beings or crimes against humanity; and we further find that he is and was always a deeply interested and well-disposed academician who has studied the coming downfall of the human race with the objectivity of a good historian. He is guilty of nothing worthy of punishment. This finding is also unanimous.

  “Third, we find that the female chimpanzee known as Zira has been guilty of actions which, considered objectively, constitute crimes against humanity, and if such actions were committed today, would warrant the most severe punishment. However, this Commission finds itself unable to agree upon whether such actions, undoubtedly atrocities in our present time, can be called crimes at all given the circumstances of the chimpanzee Zira’s culture. It is specifically noted that the actions, which we call atrocities, committed by Zira on the persons of humans in her time are commonly performed today on the bodies of beasts, and for the same motives; and that Zira apparently believed, until her encounter with Colonel Taylor, that humans were no more than dumb animals.”

  Congressman Boyd cleared his throat loudly.

  “Yes, Mister Boyd?” Chairman Hartley said.

  “Mister Chairman, I want that report to show that this finding was not unanimous. Given the history—history which her husband Cornelius undoubtedly knew—the apes had no right to consider humans in the same category as beasts, and furthermore, I submit, they did not so consider them. They saw them as former masters, and took revenge on them when and where possible—”

  “Excuse me, Congressman,” Hartley interrupted. “You will be allowed to present the minority report—”

  There were more murmurs around the table.

  “—your minority report, I should say, at a later time. All of you who wish to present minority reports will be given the opportunity. The majority report notes that this finding is not unanimous.”

  He continued reading. “The Commission does find, by majority vote, that either Zira has committed no crime which deserves prosecution; or that, being an ape, she cannot be tried by the standards imposed by the International Law of War Crime; or that this Commission has no jurisdiction over Zira, without regard to the truth or falsity of the first two propositions; and the Commission is therefore agreed that it does not recommend any prosecution of the chimpanzee Zira. Is this a fair statement, Commissioners?”

  There were more murmured assents. Someone said, “Get on with it. It’s nearly dinner time.”

  “I will attempt to do so,” Hartley said. He lifted his paper again and read, “This Commission finds that although these apes do not themselves represent a threat to the human race, their progeny, by interbreeding with common apes, may well do so; that unless these progeny interbreed with common apes, the future described by Cornelius and Zira is so improbable as to be to all purposes impossible; an
d that, therefore, without considerations, of justice, but purely in the interests of expediency and the physical salvation of the human race, this Commission recommends to the President of the United States that the birth of the female ape’s unborn child be prevented, and that the two adult apes be sterilized permanently by painless means; that after sterilization is performed, they may be considered wards of the United States and employed in such wise as their talents would best indicate, with due regard to their own stated desires.”

  “It’s still murder,” the Cardinal muttered. “Abortion is always murder. Why not let the little ape be born and sterilize it if they’re so anxious—it’s the Slaughter of the Innocents again, and no good can come from it.”

  “We have heard your views before,” Hasslein said. “I appreciate your concern, Your Eminence. It is not your responsibility. Let it be on my head.”

  “On your head and on your children, is that it, Dr. Hasslein? Fortunately, God won’t permit you to pass that guilt on to your children.”

  “If you are quite finished,” Chairman Hartley said. He read again. “These findings being adopted by this Commission and presented to the President of the United States, and having been accepted by the president, Dr. Victor Hasslein by Executive Order is given authority to carry out the recommendations of this Commission, and is hereby ordered to do so immediately.” Hartley looked at the assembled group. “I think there is nothing else, is there? No?” He raised his gavel. “I hereby declare this Commission dissolved.” The gavel fell again, and the sound was like the crack of doom to Lewis Dixon.

  * * *

  Lewis parked in the driveway outside Stephanie’s Glendale home. She came outside to meet him, and he pulled her to him, kissed her desperately.

  “Hey,” she said finally. “What’s wrong?”