“And yet,” Hasslein said, “your Dr. Milo, genius that he was, was able to deduce what Taylor’s ship was for and how it worked, convince himself that it would still work, and persuade you to risk your lives on it. All this on the basis of one ship and no crewmen. Tell me, Mister Cornelius, does this sound reasonable to you? If I told you that one of your friends had done something like that, would you believe it?”
“I would,” Zira snapped. “My husband has told you that he was an historian. He knew that humans had flying machines. He had told Dr. Milo about them. And once Milo had examined the ship, he said it was obvious what it was for.”
“Obvious,” Hasslein said. He shifted papers and pointed to several passages.
“Interesting,” Dr. Hartley muttered. He looked up. “Tell me, sir, were you actually startled by the light in the refrigerator?”
“What?” Cornelius half stood at his seat in indignation. “I suppose you were spying on us?” He looked at Stephanie and Lewis.
“We only reported what we saw,” Stevie said. “You knew we would—”
Cornelius’s lips were tightly drawn against his teeth. “I had not known you would report such trivia. Yes, sir, I was startled by the light in the re-frig-er-a-tor.” He pronounced the new word carefully.
“And why was that? Because you had no electricity at all?” Hartley said.
Cornelius shook his head. “We were not that primitive, sir. We were familiar with the concept of electricity. It was not widely used, and most generators were hand or animal driven. Certainly we did not use it for the little light in the refrigerator. We did not have energy to waste on such things.”
“And why not?” Cardinal MacPherson asked. “Not why didn’t you waste energy on refrigerator lights; I tend to agree with your assessment of that. I mean why was there so little energy?”
Cornelius shrugged. “Our histories are not that complete, Your Eminence. All I can say is that there were very few sources of energy, and very little technology; and things had, we thought, been that way for a long time. At least a thousand years.”
“Would you say that men had destroyed their great civilizations with war, then?” the Cardinal asked.
“I don’t know, sir,” Cornelius replied. “It is possible.”
“Is it possible you destroyed the human civilizations?” The questioner was a new man. Lewis thought for a moment before he realized who he was—Dr. Raymond Wilson, a naturalist specializing in great apes.
“Well, I suppose so,” Cornelius said. “Except—” He looked to Zira.
“Our records showed only that humans had civilization,” Zira told them. “Such things weren’t even legends to most apes. I doubt if one ape in a hundred would have believed my husband if he told them that humans once built cities and had flying machines.”
“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.”