The Bear Who Saved the World
L. Sprague de Camp
Johnny Black pulled Volume 5 of the Britannica off the library shelf and opened it to the article on "Chemistry." Adjusting the elastic that held his spectacles in place, he worried his way through a few paragraphs before he decided, sadly, that he could go no farther until his man, Professor Mettin, explained things to him. And he wanted so much to learn all about chemistry and the chemicals that had made it possible for him to read at all!
Johnny Black was not human, and he knew it. He was, instead, a fine specimen of the American black bear, Euarctos americanus, upon whose brain Professor Mettin, chief of staff at the North American Biological Research Station, had performed a remarkable experiment. Mettin had injected a chemical compound that lowered the resistance of the synapses between the cells of his small bear's brain so that the complicated electrical process called thought became as easy for Johnny as for a man.
The bear continued to turn the pages of the encyclopedia carefully with his paw. He had once tried using his tongue, but the sharp edges of the paper had cut it. Besides, his master had scolded him for dampening the pages of a valuable book. After Johnny had read the article on "Chess," he stowed his spectacles in the case attached to his collar and ambled outdoors.
The island of St. Croix sweltered under a Caribbean sun. The blue of the sky and the green of the hills were lost on Johnny, who, like all bears, was color-blind. He regretted that his bear's eyesight was not keen enough to make out the boats in Frederiksted harbor. His poor eyesight together with a lack of fingers to manipulate things and lack of vocal organs adapted to speech were Johnny's chief grievances. He sometimes wished that if he had to be an animal with a human brain, he were an ape like McGinty, the chimpanzee.
Johnny began to wonder about McGinty. He hadn't heard a peep out of him all morning, whereas the old ape usually shrieked and threw things at everybody who went by. Curious, Johnny shuffled over to the cages. The monkeys chattered at him as usual, but the ape sat with his back to the wall, staring blankly. When Johnny growled a little, McGinty's eyes swung at the sound, his limbs stirred, but he did not get up. He must be pretty sick, thought Johnny, then comforted himself with the fact that within the hour Pablo would be around to feed the animals and would report McGinty's strange behavior to Professor Mettin.
Thinking about food reminded Johnny that it was high time for Honoria, the cook, to ring the Station bell that summoned the scientists to lunch. But no bell rang. In fact, the place seemed unnaturally quiet. Besides the chirping of the birds and the chattering of the monkeys, the only sound he heard was the put-put-put of a stationary engine at Bemis' place, beyond the grounds of the Biological Research Station.
Bemis was a botanist who had recently received a U. S. Government grant to set up a laboratory on St. Croix. He had settled in on a property next to the Research Station. Johnny knew that the scientists at the Research Station did not like Bemis. They called him "eccentric" and wondered about the little plump man who swaggered around in riding boots when there wasn't a horse in the area. Johnny wanted to investigate the stationary engine, but he remembered the fuss Bemis had made the last time he had wandered over.
He decided instead to investigate the delayed luncheon. Trotting over to the Station kitchen, he put his muzzle in the door. He did not go farther, remembering the cook's unreasonable attitude toward bears in her kitchen. He smelled burning food and saw Honoria, mountainous as ever, sitting by the window looking at nothing.
Alarmed, Johnny set out to find Mettin. Although the professor was not in the social room, the rest of the staff were gathered there. Dr. Breuker, an authority on the psychology of speech, sat in an easy chair, a newspaper across his lap. He didn't move when Johnny sniffed his leg. He had dropped a lighted cigarette on the rug, where it had burned a large hole before going out. Doctors Markel and Ryerson and Ryerson's wife were there too, sitting like so many statues.
Eventually, Johnny found the lanky Mettin, clad in underwear, lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He did not look sick, but he didn't move unless prodded or nipped. An hour later, Johnny gave up trying to get a sensible reaction out of any of the people at the Station. He went outside to think. He would call a physician if only he could speak. He might go down to Frederiksted to try to get one, but he would likely get shot for his pains.
Happening to glance toward Bemis' laboratory, Johnny was surprised to see something round rise into the sky, slowly dwindle, and vanish. He guessed that this was a small balloon, for he had heard that Bemis was planning a botanical experiment involving the use of balloons. Another sphere followed the first, then another, until they formed a continuous procession dwindling into nothingness.
This was too much for the curious bear. He had to find out why anyone would want to fill the heavens with balloons a yard in diameter. Besides, he hoped that Bemis might come over to the Station and see about the entranced staff.
Approaching the Bemis house, he saw a truck, a lot of machinery, a pile of unfilled balloons, and two unfamiliar men. The men inflated the balloons, one by one, attached a small box to each, and released them into the air.
One man caught sight of Johnny, yelled, "Hey!" and reached for his holster. Although Johnny rose on his hind legs and gravely extended his right paw in greeting, the man shouted, "Get out of here, you!"
When Johnny, puzzled, hesitated, the man jerked out his pistol and fired. Johnny felt a stunning blow as the. 38 slug glanced off his thick skull. The next instant, gravel flying, he streaked for the Station.
Back home, he found a bathroom mirror and inspected the gash on his forehead. Since he could not apply a bandage, he ran cold water over the wound until the bleeding stopped. Weak with hunger, he made his way to the kitchen. There he used his claws as natural can openers and poured a can of peaches down his throat. A moment later, he heard a truck back up to the kitchen door. He slipped noiselessly into the dining room.
The kitchen door slammed. The raw voice of the man who had shot at him spoke to Honoria, "What's your name, huh?"
Toneless, the woman replied, "Honoria Velez."
"Okay, Honoria, you help us carry this food out to the truck." Johnny could hear the slapping of Honoria's slippers as she moved about, arms full of provisions, docilely piling cans into the truck. When the men said, "That's all," she sat down on the kitchen steps, dazed and unmoving. The truck drove off.
It had occurred to Johnny, as he watched through the crack of the dining room door, that these men, their balloons, and the trancelike state of the people at the Station were somehow related. More curious than ever, he hurried out and headed for a clump of trees standing on a rise at the end of the Station property.
From this hidden observation post, he watched as more and more balloons sailed off into the sky. Eventually, the two men at work were joined by two others from the bungalow. The stocky figure, Johnny decided, was Bemis. If that were so, the botanist must be the mastermind of the gang of swaggering ruffians. And he, Johnny, had at least four enemies to deal with. How, he didn't know.
First, he considered Honoria's actions. The cook, normally a strong-minded person of granite stubbornness, had carried out every order without a peep. Yet Honoria had remembered her name and understood orders well enough. Evidently, the disease—or whatever it was—seemed not to affect the victim mentally or physically except to deprive him of initiative and willpower. Johnny wondered why he had not been affected also. Then, remembering the chimpanzee and the monkeys, he concluded that the disease was specific to the higher anthropoids.