by Titan Books
When the two astronauts, accompanied by a third man named Jones, had gotten into trouble on their interstellar flight, they had set an automatic recall which made the spacecraft find its way back to Earth. This it had done, killing Jones and stranding Burke and Virdon over two thousand years in their own future. But Virdon had saved the small recording disk that had kept a record of their flight, and he believed that it alone could help them return to their own time. But to do so, they had to find a computer resourceful and sophisticated enough to interpret the disk. Only in a city like this could they have any chance of success; the apes hated and feared almost anything that had to do with science. The apes knew what had happened to the humans. At least, the apes in charge of the others did.
The disappointment showed clearly on the faces of Burke, Virdon, and even Galen, as they began to realize they had little chance that the city would offer the kind of aid they sought. The streets were eerily deserted. Their footsteps were loud and echoed from the sheer walls of the buildings around them. The smell was old, stale, and foul. There was no active remnant of the human scientific community here, as Virdon had half-hoped.
They pushed over boulder-sized blocks of brick and mortar, skirted twisted, sharp chunks of steel girders that blocked their path. Virdon called for a rest stop, and the others halted. No one said anything for a while. Then Burke spoke up. “This is downtown nowhere,” he said.
They continued along the street, their eyes glancing from left to right. They felt an odd elation; the city was so different from everything they had seen since their journeys began. But they carried with them the same nagging doubts. The city was a constant, ugly reminder that human beings had let the worst in their nature free to ruin the world. It was a kind of vindication of everything the apes had said about humans. There it was, for Burke, Virdon, and Galen to see. The human failure.
“Well,” said Galen, trying to cheer his friends up, “it certainly must have been wonderful, living in times that could create such a city as this.”
“It wasn’t wonderful living in times that could knock it back down,” said Burke, sourly. Galen did not reply.
They reached a cross street and stopped in the intersection. Neither Virdon nor Burke knew where they were going—they did not yet even know which city this might have been. Their plans, which on the road always sounded so hopeful and confident, now seemed empty. What could they do?
“Wait a minute,” said Galen softly. He touched Virdon’s arm and motioned that the astronauts be silent. Then he pointed to the left. There was an old human standing in the doorway there, hiding, afraid. He was about fifty years old, dressed in tatters and rags. His hair and beard were filthy and matted with dirt. The old man, made older by the harshness of his existence, tried to press himself deeper into the doorway, out of range of the three companions’ examination.
“Don’t do or say anything to spook him,” said Burke softly.
The man didn’t need that kind of stimulus. He watched them in frozen surprise for a moment, then ran out of the doorway and down the street in the opposite direction. He ran with a heavy limp.
“We could catch him,” said Galen.
Virdon just shook his head. “Hello,” he called. The old man made no response, but kept up his shuffling progress down the street. “What do you call this city?”
There was still no answer from the man. He was almost a block away.
“We’re friends,” called Virdon. “We just want to talk to you.”
“Are there any apes here?” shouted Burke. Neither man got even the slightest response from the human. Instead, he turned suddenly and darted into the doorway of another building.
“Well,” said Burke, “there goes the welcoming committee. It looks to me like—” He was interrupted by Galen, who raised a hand for him to be quiet. Galen’s hearing was much more acute than the humans’, and they had learned to trust his hunches. Slowly, Burke and Virdon, too, became aware of the sound. They listened hard. In the distance came the pounding of approaching hoofbeats. Generally speaking, horses meant apes; more importantly, horses meant members of Urko’s gorilla army. The three fugitives looked around for hiding places. Twisted steel, broken glass, chunks of concrete…
Virdon pointed to a building that had once been an impressive and imposing edifice, and which still stood only barely damaged by time and catastrophe. They all ran quickly toward it. Galen was genuinely worried; he alone knew just how close the gorillas were. He shook his head. “No time!” he muttered.
Galen, Burke, and Virdon realized that they didn’t have enough warning to hunt out a secure place of concealment. They would have to take their chances with what fate provided. They ducked behind a badly deteriorated wall that more closely resembled a pile of rubble without a building attached.
Just as they dropped their heads out of sight, a squad of mounted, armed gorillas rode around a corner and into the street. They were patrol gorillas, not looking for anything out of the ordinary, and their leisurely pace indicated that they hoped that they wouldn’t find anything, either.
“I don’t care if these gorillas grew up in Serbia-Croatia,” said Burke, in a hoarse whisper. “They’re part of Urko’s force, and they all have descriptions of us.”
“They have orders, too,” said Galen with some amusement. “They’re ordered to shoot to kill.”
“We’ll just stay here for a while, then,” said Virdon. “The shade is restful.”
The apes continued their patrol up the street. They drew abreast of the fugitives’ hiding place. Burke and Virdon squeezed themselves closer to the mound of debris; Galen watched them curiously, then did the same thing. Occasionally it was difficult for the young chimpanzee to realize the horrifying consequences that his natural curiosity might bring. The patrol gorillas noticed nothing unusual and rode by, their view of the two men and the chimpanzee hidden by the rubble.
After the apes passed, Virdon, Burke, and Galen breathed a slight bit easier. Still, they waited for a moment to make sure that the patrol had passed out of hearing range. This was what their lives had become, and it wasn’t something they enjoyed or had chosen; still, without their watchfulness, they might have been killed on many, many previous occasions. They waited.
After a time, Burke murmured, “Okay to get my heart started again?”
Galen snorted. He raised himself up so that just his eyes peered over the edge of the mound. The apes were nowhere to be seen.
“It seems to be all clear,” said the chimpanzee.
“But we know it isn’t,” said Burke. “It never is.”
“We’d better hole up for a while,” said Virdon. “That’s the wisest choice. This city has been here for a while. It’ll keep another few hours.”
Burke looked imploringly up at the sky. “Well,” he said dryly, “another day, another hole.”
Virdon surveyed the nearby buildings, looking for one that might offer them a good chance of combining safety with comfort. These buildings had been erected after the astronauts’ departure from Earth; some gave Virdon trouble, merely identifying them. At last he chose the large, central building that had first caught his attention. “Let’s try this one,” he said. He scrambled over the rubble, hoping that the ape guard had not circled back within earshot. Behind him came Burke and Galen. Bending low to avoid being seen, the three ran for the entrance.
“Are we really going in there?” asked Galen, who, despite his good ape education, was still a little afraid of the forbidden areas.
“Unless you want to try out Urko’s hospitality, you’re coming in with us,” said Burke. Galen shrugged.
“I wonder what this place was,” said Virdon, looking up at its towering, almost unspoiled face.
Galen glanced around at the shabby, decayed buildings in the neighborhood. “I would guess that it was something important,” he said. “It was built well.” Virdon walked slowly up to the entrance.
“So was the Colosseum,” said Burke, behind them.
/> Galen stopped and turned. He wrinkled his face in the quizzical look that so often initiated long question and answer sessions. “The Colosseum?” he asked.
“An arena,” said Virdon. “Humans were forced to fight animals. It was a long time ago. Someone was trying to combine sporting events with social reform, of a strange type.”
“The smart money was on the animals,” said Burke.
Galen stared. The ideas were so chilling, and the astronauts’ discussion so… unconcerned… that Galen could not decide whether this was another of their jokes or a cruel facet of human life he had never before encountered. He could think of nothing to say.
Meanwhile, Virdon had spotted something near the door, and had begun to brush away the dust and rubble. Burke and Galen went to help him; after a moment they uncovered what Virdon had seen—a barely readable bronze plaque bolted to the building’s front. Even though the sign had been damaged and corroded through the millenia, the three companions were able to read it. It said, OAKLAND SCIENCE INSTITUTE.
“Well, how about that?” asked Burke.
“‘Oakland Science Institute,’” said Virdon. “If I remember right, that was one of those government think tanks. I wonder if this building is holding what those people thought up.”
“So you think this is Oakland?” asked Burke.
“Why not?” asked Virdon. “It has to be someplace.”
Burke looked around him with more interest. Before, the city had been nameless, without personality. Now the human tragedy of the place hit him. “Even George Blanda has gone to dust by now,” he said.
“Who?” asked Galen. “Did he fight animals in the Colosseum?”
“He fought Lions, and Bears, and sometimes Saints,” said Burke. The astronaut shook his head. Galen was completely confused by Burke’s football references, but it wasn’t a new feeling. The chimpanzee just shook his head, too, and looked at Virdon.
“Let’s have a look inside,” said the blond astronaut.
With him in the lead, the trio moved slowly through the empty doorway of the building. Piles of rubble and sections of walls inside littered the floor. The high, vaulted ceiling of the entranceway had collapsed a long time before, and the fugitives had to climb laboriously over the debris. The air inside was stifling and bad. There were no sounds, not even the faint rustling of vermin. It was as silent as an empty grave.
“Interesting decor,” said Burke, looking around the main hall. “What would you call the style? Early American Disaster?”
“Close enough,” said Virdon. He moved away from the other two in order to examine a section of broken wall. The part he was looking at seemed to jut out from the main hall’s perimeter, destroying the rectangular spaciousness of the area. “I’ll bet the original designer didn’t put this here,” said Virdon. “There could be something behind it.”
Burke and Galen watched him curiously. Virdon was never one to let the unknown possibilities of a situation remain that way for long. He started to tug at something embedded in a section of the crumbling wall. The entire part of the wall immediately began to fall down upon them. “Be—” shouted Burke, but he was interrupted by the crash of stone, brick, and mortar all around them. The three desperately dived for cover.
“—careful,” finished the dark-haired astronaut. They were out of the pile of debris that had toppled over, standing now in the protection of an archway. They watched the rest of the wall slip, tumble, and crash to the floor. The air was filled with dust. They choked while the dust settled once again to the floor.
“You’re very good at that,” said Burke, still coughing. “Have you ever considered taking it up as an occupation?”
The gray dust settled in Galen’s thick, hairy coat and on the astronauts’ heads and arms. They slapped as much of it off as they could. Virdon returned his attention to the wall, which had completely fallen down. He saw a wheeled vault lock and a steel door. He stepped carefully across the debris, making loud crunching sounds in the echoing chamber; he grasped the wheel and turned it. They were all startled by the loud whoosh of air. Virdon turned back to his friends. “Vacuum sealed,” he said. Galen did not understand, but he was too curious to ask for an explanation. He wanted to see what was inside.
Beyond the swinging vault door was a small alcove. The back wall was the original wall of the Institute’s lobby; this small place had been built afterward, to house the odd-looking machine that rested on a pedestal in the center, just behind the door. Virdon stepped in to look at the device. It was a rectangular box of clear plastic. There were no control knobs, buttons, or switches. “Pete,” called Virdon, “here, look at this.”
Galen and Burke joined Virdon in the alcove. The three looked over the machine, each as puzzled as the others. “It was made after our time,” said Burke. “That’s for sure.”
Galen looked from Virdon to Burke. “What do you think it is?” he asked. The apes had avoided the technology that produced anything but the most primitive and utilitarian objects.
Virdon had been looking at the pedestal that the device rested on. It was apparent that there was a kind of storage battery and electrical connections behind a smooth gray metallic panel. With close scrutiny, Virdon could make out a confusing arrangement of lenses. But there didn’t seem to be anything to focus, no film threader or slide feeder. “It could be some kind of projector,” he said, “but what kind I don’t know.”
“Projector?” said Galen. “I don’t understand. Not only do I not understand what you don’t understand, I don’t understand your explanations.”
“Try to put yourself in our position,” said Burke. “How do you think that makes us feel? We thought we’d done a good job of filling you in on the last two thousand years or so.”
“Burke,” said Galen coldly, “there are things about you which I will never understand. I can accept that. But there are things which I should understand, for the safety of all of us.”
“I’m sorry, Galen,” said Burke, truly apologetic. “I usually get that way when I don’t know what’s happening either.”
“Whatever it is,” said Virdon, “it was well protected and hidden.”
“Yeah,” said Burke. “It might even work.”
“What’s a projector?” asked Galen.
“It’s a machine to reproduce—” Virdon was cut off by Galen’s deepening look of puzzlement. Virdon sighed “Look,” he said, “it takes little pictures and makes them look big by putting an enlarged image on a flat surface.”
Galen still looked bewildered. “The basic thing that I don’t understand,” he said, “is how you take little pictures and make them look big. It’s very easy to do the opposite. You just walk away.”
“That’s a thought,” muttered Burke. He was glad that Galen could not hear him. Burke turned to Virdon. “This thing must have been important,” he said. “Somebody sure wanted it to last. Who knows? Maybe it will work.”
Virdon merely grunted in reply. He had removed part of the device’s front panel and had discovered what were apparently the controls. He looked these over and traced the connections of wires and printed circuits. His engineer’s training let him have some insight into the almost completely alien machine.
“Do you realize that I still don’t understand?” asked Galen petulantly.
Virdon put his thumb in a small depression among the controls.
“Look,” said Burke, “the thing is probably—”
“In the years to come…” The voice that spoke those words belonged neither to Burke nor Virdon. Both men jerked around. Galen looked up, his eyes wide, startled, frightened. The voice was deep and full of authority. The three companions each found his heart beating loud and fast. Each was afraid, but each for different reasons.
Besides the surprising suddenness of the voice, there were overtones to the situation that made it more dramatic than it might have been on another occasion. For Virdon, it was the first concrete clue to a way back to his wife and family, all of whom had
been dead for many, many centuries; for Burke, it was the defeat of emotion at the hands of intellect, once more, and he pitied Virdon for the hope that it would stir in him; for Galen, it was the first real connection between what the astronauts had been telling him for so many months, and the truth.
Before them was the image of a gray-haired scientist, dressed in a loose white robe. The man was evidently in his eighties, but that was only his evident age; his voice was much younger, his eyes seemed much older. Who could tell what human medical skill had been able to accomplish after Burke and Virdon left their home world? The projection moved against the wall opposite the projector; even though Virdon tried blocking the device with his body, the image did not waver or disappear.
“Whoever finds our Institute,” said the scientist, now long dead, as was his science, “we, the scientists, greet you. The destruction of our world, as we know it, is imminent…”
Galen stared, unblinking, at the projection. Here was truth and knowledge, the very things he had yearned for throughout his short life. Here were the answers that even Burke and Virdon did not know, answers that the ape leaders either did not know or kept suppressed.
“…but our civilization’s great advances must not vanish,” said the ancient scientist gravely. The man paused, as though waiting for his listeners of future generations to puzzle out the meaning of his words thus far.