“I suppose.” Cornelius came over to the group—two chimpanzees on one couch, facing two humans on another. All four wore white laboratory coats now. Lewis had thought it a good joke on the zoo procedure. Haskins would be scandalized.
“But—why not with the Commission?” Stevie asked again.
“Because,” Zira said, “truth can often harm the innocent. And I have a very special reason for wanting to survive. At least for a little while. This does have to be secret, Doctors.”
“Go ahead,” Lewis said.
“No. You tell them, Cornelius.”
“We did know Colonel Taylor,” Cornelius began. "It is true that the first time we saw the ship, it was empty, but we had seen the crew before that. We came to love Colonel Taylor very much.”
“But,” Stevie protested, “what possible harm could come from telling the Commission that? Why—”
“Shh,” Lewis said. He gently put a finger over her lips. "Please go on, Professor Cornelius.”
“Our feelings, our regard for Colonel Taylor was unusual,” Cornelius said. “In our time, apes do not—did not—love human beings. They hunted them for sport, as you might hunt animals. They did not always kill them quickly, either.”
“Good Lord!” Lewis exclaimed. “Chimpanzees too?”
Zira nodded. “We don’t hunt, but we used humans, alive and dead, for experimental animals. Anatomical studies. Medical reactions, drug tests, anything of that sort. Dissection to train medical students.”
“Ugh.” Stevie swallowed hard. “That’s—that’s horrible.”
“Yes,” Lewis nodded. “But we do the same with animals right now. As a scientist I can understand, if humans in their time are only dumb animals, unable to speak or reason . . .”
“We thought they were all that way,” Zira said, “until we met Colonel Taylor. He was the first talking human we’d ever known.”
“I think,” Lewis said slowly, “I think perhaps you were right not to tell them you’d known him. What happened to Taylor, anyway?”
“That was the other reason we didn’t tell about him,” Cornelius said.”
“Yes,” Zira added. “They would have asked what happened to him, whether he’s still alive.”
“And he’s dead,” Lewis said with finality. He paused a moment and took in a deep breath. “I knew him, you know. Not well, but I worked with him once—you know he’s dead, then? Know for sure?”
“Yes,” Cornelius answered. “After we achieved orbit, we could see Earth below. From the ship. And we looked down and saw the earth destroyed.”
Stevie gasped. Then she looked up at Zira. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? Just what do you mean, the earth destroyed?”
“Just that,” Zira replied. “There was a glare and an explosion.”
“And Colonel Taylor was down there?” asked Lewis.
“Yes,” Cornelius replied. “He—he wasn’t able to come with us in the rocket.”
“But what did you mean, the world destroyed?” Stephanie insisted.
Cornelius sighed. “Just that. The gorillas wanted possession of a weapon. Something left from the old days. Milo thought that it would destroy the earth if it were used. Evidently someone used it.”
“The whole earth,” Lewis said. He didn’t even hear himself speaking.
“Yes,” Cornelius answered. “The whole earth. And now, I think you understand why we were less than frank with your commissioners.”
“I still don’t like it,” Zira said. “I don’t like lies and deceit. But what can we do?”
Lewis shrugged. “It’s time for Dr. Hasslein.” He went over to turn on the television.
“And now the Big News presents Dr. Victor Hasslein,” the announcer said. “Dr. Hasslein is the chief science advisor to the president, and insiders know him to be perhaps the most influential scientist in the nation.
“As our Big News viewers know by now, the whole nation is excited about talking chimpanzees. These two apes impressed this reporter, as I am sure they impressed everyone in the room. They answered questions, made jokes, and quite literally spoke and thought as well as any human. Dr. Hasslein, was that your impression?”
The camera panned from pictures of Zira and Cornelius over to Hasslein’s thin features and steel-rimmed glasses. The contrast was startling. “Yes. Although certain members of the Commission seem to harbor residual doubts, I think there is absolutely no question here. These chimpanzees are intelligent by any definition we could rationally put forward.”
“And what do you think about that, Dr. Hasslein?” The interviewer leaned forward and gave his famous look of intelligent concern, a look familiar to millions of six o’clock news viewers. “What does this make you feel?”
“Frightened,” Hasslein said firmly.
“Why is that?”
Hasslein shrugged. “Anything that completely upsets what we thought were known scientific facts is a bit frightening,” Hasslein said smoothly. He smiled as if to show it really wasn’t important.
“Would you say that this shows a potential for intelligence in other apes?”
Hasslein shrugged again. “I would think no,” he said. “We have, after all, rather thoroughly studied apes, and I think we have established the limits of their intelligence. Apes have been raised in human households, as children might be raised. In one experiment, you may recall, a chimpanzee and a human child of similar ages were raised by the child’s parents together as sisters, with absolutely no differences in treatment. Yet, after a few years, the chimpanzee could not speak and had fallen very far behind her human counterpart. No, I think these apes are from a genetically different strain. Quite different.”
“I see.” The interviewer smiled again to show the audience who was the star of the show. “Now, Dr. Hasslein, when you asked the male ape, uh, Cornelius, where he came from, he replied ‘From your future.’ Do you believe that?”
“Absolutely. It’s the only possible explanation,” Hasslein answered. He leaned forward to peer intently into the camera, and to the apes watching him on the screen he seemed almost to come into the room.
“He—frightens me,” Zira said.
“Well he might,” Lewis told her. “But you’ve got to get along with him. Oh, the entire Commission could probably overrule him, if we wanted to badly enough; but the president listens to Hasslein. Don’t blame the president, you understand. Hasslein’s brilliant, and he has a talent for explaining complicated subjects to educated laymen. Just remember, you’ve got to get along with him.”
“Shh,” Stevie said. She put her hand on his lips and grinned. She had been waiting to do that for a while—since Lewis had shushed her.
“I’m afraid, Dr. Hasslein,” the interviewer was saying, “that I don’t find it at all obvious what the ape meant. How could they be from our future? Is time travel actually possible?”
Hasslein smiled thinly. “Walter, there will be nothing simple about this explanation. I do not myself actually understand time, although I have written papers about its nature, mathematical papers. Men will probably never understand time. Only God can do that. But perhaps I can give an illustration, of something I call infinite regression—”
The interviewer winced, but Hasslein smiled. “It is not that difficult, Walter,” he said. “Remember the Morton’s Salt Box? On it there is a little girl carrying a box of Morton’s salt. On her box there is a little girl, also carrying a box of Morton’s salt. And so forth, until, of course, the engraver became tired and did not bother to make the actual detailed picture within a picture within a picture . . .”
“I suppose,” the interviewer said. He looked sharply at Hasslein, and the look said quite a lot. It said, “Whoever told me this guy knew what he was talking about?”