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“Precisely,” Cornelius said. “They lived in houses with people. They shared the same foods, and they copied—‘aped,’ if you prefer—their owners’ habits. And after two centuries of living like this, the apes became more than pets. They became servants. They did far more than tricks, they worked for humans.”

“Like sheep dogs?” Amalfi asked.

“Humpf,” Zira said. “Could sheep dogs make beds?”

“Or cook?” Cornelius asked. “Clean house? Go marketing for groceries with lists from their mistresses? Apes worked in factories, and waited on tables in restaurants. They performed all the menial tasks humans insist on having done for them but won’t do themselves.”

“Fascinating,” Hasslein said. “But then what happened?”

“They turned the tables on their owners,” Zira said. Her voice held satisfaction and pride. “They learned they were slaves, and they did something about it!”

Cornelius gently laid his hand on Zira’s. “First, of course, they had to develop personalities of their own. While they were animals, unaware of anything, they did not feel exploited; but after two hundred years of this, they became aware of their identity. Then they learned to be alert to the concept of slavery—and to slavery’s antidote, which is unity and brotherhood. They learned to act together. They learned to refuse.”

“I see,” Hasslein said. “Do go on, Professor Cornelius.” His pale eyes were alert and interested, and he leaned slightly forward across the table.

“At first, they only barked their refusal,” Cornelius said. “But then, one historic day, there came an ape named Aldo who didn’t bark. He spoke. He spoke a word which had been spoken to him, time without number, by humans. He said, ‘No’.”

“You seem proud of Aldo,” Hasslein said.

“Of course,” Zira told them. “His is the most honored name among apes. We are all proud of him.”

“And that’s how it all started,” Hasslein said to himself. “But—what happened to the humans?”

“We don’t know, exactly,” Cornelius said.

“Slaughtered by the apes, maybe?” Bates sneered.

“More likely, by each other,” Zira snapped.

“Roll that film clip. B-3,” Bates ordered.

The screen lit again, to show Cornelius and Zira during the first session with the Presidential Commission of Inquiry. “Where we come from, apes talk and humans are dumb animals,” Cornelius’s image said.

“Those were your words, were they not?” Bates asked.

“Certainly,” Cornelius answered.

“So in your culture, humans are dumb,” Bates continued. “Are they happy?” Cornelius looked away from the interrogator’s cold staring eyes. “I asked you, are they happy?”

There was no answer. “Just what happened to the human culture, Professor Cornelius?” Hasslein asked gently. “Was there a slaughter of humans by apes? Surely you would have records of a triumph like that! You would be proud of it.”

“No, we wouldn’t,” Cornelius said.

“After the revolt, the apes enslaved the humans, didn’t they?” Bates insisted. “For revenge. And eventually exterminated every human with intelligence. Destroyed civilization.”

“No,” Zira protested. “It wasn’t that way at all.”

“How are humans treated in your time/place?” Amalfi demanded. “What would happen to me, for instance, if I went there?”

“I don’t know,” Zira answered.

“Ah,” Bates said. “Sure about that? Real sure? Run that next tape, uh, tape B-5.”

The screen lit again, to show Zira speaking to the Commission. “As to humans,” her image said, “I’ve dissec— Excuse me. I have examined thousands of humans and until now I have discovered only two who could talk in my whole life. God knows who taught them.”

“Now,” Bates said, “we presume that you meant you had known two humans who could speak prior to your arrival in our time. Otherwise, your words make no sense at all.” His voice hardened into a whiplash. “Who were the two? Colonel Taylor and who else?”

“I never met Colonel Taylor,” Zira protested.

“You came here in his ship,” Hasslein reminded them.

“Give me that special setup, sound only,” Bates told the intercom.

Zira’s voice came through. “As to humans, I’ve dissec— excuse me. I have examined thousands of humans . . .”

“Now what was that word you didn’t finish?” Bates asked. “Just what were you afraid to tell the Commission?”

“I don’t remember,” Zira said nervously. “I—we weren’t afraid of anything!”

“Hah. You don’t remember,” Bates said. “We’ll refresh your memory. Run the loop.”

“Dissec—dissec—dissec—dissec . . .” Zira’s voice said endlessly.

“Finish the word, monkey,” Bates snarled.

“I have told you not to use that word!” Cornelius snapped. He stood and advanced toward the table.

“If you don’t sit down we’ll put the chains back oh you,” Bates said.

“Dissec—dissec—dissec . . .”

“Complete the word, Madame Zira!”

She sniffed. “It sounds as if I had hiccups!”

“Good girl!” Cornelius encouraged.

“I see,” Hasslein said. “I take it, then, you refuse to tell us of your relationship with Colonel Taylor?”

“We never knew . . .”

“Oh, don’t lie,” Amalfi said. “That won’t do you any good. Come on, tell us about it. You’ll feel better, and we can leave you alone then.”

“Those monkeys aren’t going to tell us anything,” Bates snapped.

“You shouldn’t call them monkeys, Larry,” Amalfi said. “Professor Cornelius said he didn’t like that. Won’t you just tell us about it? Please? We have to find out, you know. And we will, too. Make it easier on yourselves.”

“Good advice,” Hasslein told them.

“There is nothing to tell,” Cornelius said.

Hasslein sighed. “You leave us no choice. Send for Dr. Dixon, please.”

There was a long pause. Then Lewis Dixon came into the small clinic. “You wanted me?”

“Yes,” Hasslein said. “I want you to administer sodium pentothal to these apes. You may begin with the female.”

“I don’t think that’s wise,” Lewis said.

“I don’t care what you think, Dr. Dixon,” Hasslein said. “I have not invited your comments, and I will not listen to your arguments. You may do as I have asked you, or you may refuse. If you refuse, I will have an NSA physician administer the dosage. I only invited you because these apes are under your care, and I thought you might prefer to participate.”

“I see.” Lewis was silent for a moment. “I’ll get my bag.”

“That will not be necessary,” Hasslein said. “You will find everything you need in that cabinet there. I trust you already know the body weight.”

“Yes,” Lewis said. “But I don’t necessarily know the dosage. Or the effect on a chimpanzee.”

“It should be the same as with humans,” Hasslein said. “Anyway, we’ll try it.”

“You haven’t the right,” Lewis protested.

“Dr. Dixon,” Hasslein said, “that is the last argument I will hear from you. Either you do as I ask, or someone else will. Now is that clearly understood? Are you serious, for that matter? These are animals. They have no legal rights. Perhaps their owners have rights—”

“No one owns us!” Zira shouted.

“You see?” Hasslein said. “And of course they appeared in a U.S. spacecraft. Trespassers. A prima facie case of skyjacking. Administer the hypo, Dr. Dixon, or we’ll get someone in who will.”

“All right.” Lewis took the tray from the cabinet. What can I do?” he thought. If they get someone else in, he may not even care if he harms them. At least I’ll be here to protect my—patients. He filled a hypodermic with sodium pentothal and turned toward Zira.