When Zira came back she handed me a large sheet of paper fixed to a drawing board. I thought for a second or two and made up my mind to deliver a decisive blow. In one corner of the sheet I sketched the system of Betelgeuse, as we had discovered it on our arrival, with the giant central body, and its four planets. I marked Soror down in its exact position together with its own little satellite; I indicated it to Zira, then pointed my forefinger at her repeatedly. She signaled to me that she had understood completely.
Then in another corner of the sheet I drew our dear old solar system with its principal planets. I indicated the Earth and pointed my finger at my own chest.
This time Zira was slower to understand. She, too, indicated the Earth, then pointed her finger upward. I gave an affirmative nod. She was flabbergasted and her mental turmoil was plain to see. I did my best to help her by drawing another dotted line between Earth and Soror and marking in our vessel, on a different scale, on the trajectory. This made her see the light. I was now certain that my true nature and origin were known to her. She was about to draw closer to me but at that moment Zaius appeared at the end of the corridor for his periodical inspection.
A look of terror came into the she-ape’s eyes. She quickly crumpled up the paper, put her notebook back in her pocket, and, before the orangutan had reached us, placed her forefinger on her mouth with an air of entreaty. She was counseling me not to show myself in my true colors to Zaius. I obeyed her without understanding the reason for these mysteries and, convinced that I had an ally in her, promptly resumed my intelligent animal attitude.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
From then on, thanks to Zira, my knowledge of the simian world and language increased rapidly. She contrived to see me alone almost every day on the pretext of some test and undertook my education, instructing me in the language and at the same time learning mine with a rapidity that amazed me. In less than two months we were capable of holding a conversation on a variety of subjects. Little by little I came to understand the planet Soror, and it is the characteristics of this strange civilization that I am now going to try to describe.
As soon as we could converse together, Zira and I, I directed the conversation toward the principal object of my curiosity: Were the apes the only rational beings, the kings of creation on the planet?
“What do you think?” she said. “Ape is of course the only rational creature, the only one possessing a mind as well as a body. The most materialistic of our scientists recognize the supernatural essence of the simian mind.”
Phrases like this always gave me a start in spite of myself.
“Well then, Zira, what are men?”
We were then speaking French, for, as I have said, she was quicker to learn my language than I hers. At the outset there were some difficulties of interpretation, the words “man” and “ape” not evoking the same creatures for us; but this snag was quickly smoothed out. Each time she said “ape,” I mentally translated “superior being, the height of evolution.” When she spoke about men, I knew she meant bestial creatures endowed with a certain sense of imitation and presenting a few anatomical similarities to apes but of an embryonic psyche and devoid of the power of thought.
“It was only a century ago,” she said dogmatically, “that we made some remarkable progress in the science of origins. It used to be thought that species were immutable, created with their present characteristics by an all-powerful God. But a line of great thinkers, all of them chimpanzees, have modified our ideas on this subject completely. Today we know that all species are mutable and probably have a common source.”
“So that apes probably descend from men?”
“Some of us thought so; but it is not exactly that. Apes and men are two separate branches that have evolved from a point in common but in different directions, the former gradually developing to the stage of rational thought, the others stagnating in their animal state. Many orangutans, however, still insist on denying this obvious fact.”
“You were saying, Zira ... a line of great thinkers, all of them chimpanzees?”
I am reporting these conversations as they occurred, in nonconsecutive snatches, my eagerness to learn leading Zira into countless lengthy digressions.
“Almost all the great discoveries,” she stated vehemently, . “have been made by chimpanzees.”
“Are there different classes among the apes?”
“There are three distinct families, as you have noticed, each of which has its own characteristics: chimpanzees, gorillas, and orangutans. The racial barriers that used to exist have been abolished and the disputes arising from them have been settled, thanks mainly to the campaigns launched by the chimpanzees. Today, in principle, there is no difference at all between us.”
“But most of the great discoveries,” I persisted, “were made by the chimpanzees.”
“That is true.”
“What about the gorillas?”
“They are meat eaters,” she said scornfully. “They were overlords and many of them have preserved a lust for power. They enjoy organizing and directing. They love hunting and life in the open air. The poorest of them are engaged on work that requires physical strength.”
“And the orangutans?”
Zira looked at me for a moment, then burst out laughing.
“They are Official Science,” she said. “You must have noticed this already and you’ll have plenty of opportunities to confirm it. They learn an enormous amount from books. They are all decorated. Some of them are looked upon as leading lights in a narrow specialized field that requires a good memory. Apart from that . . .”
She made a gesture of contempt. I did not pursue this subject, but made a mental note to come back to it later. I led the conversation to more general ideas. At my request she drew the genealogical tree of the ape, insofar as the best specialists had determined it. This bore a close resemblance to the diagrams that with us represent the evolutionary process. From a single trunk, whose roots faded away at the base into the unknown, various limbs branched out in succession: vegetables, unicellular organisms, then coelen-terata and echinoderms; higher up one arrived at fish, reptiles, and finally mammals. The tree was extended to include a class analogous to our anthropoids, and at this point a new limb branched out: that of men. This branch stopped short, whereas the central stem went on rising, giving birth to different species of prehistoric apes with barbaric names, to culminate eventually in Simius sapiens, forming the three extreme points of evolution: the chimpanzee, the gorilla, and the orangutan. It was absolutely clear.
“Ape’s brain,” Zira concluded, “has developed, is complex and organized, whereas man’s has hardly undergone any transformation.”
“And why, Zira, has the simian brain developed in this way?”
Language had undoubtedly been an essential factor. But why did apes talk and not men? Scientific opinion differed on this point. There were some who saw in it a mysterious divine intervention. Others maintained that ape’s mind was primarily the result of the fact that he had four agile hands.
“With only two hands, each with short, clumsy fingers,” said Zira, “man is probably handicapped at birth, incapable of progressing and acquiring a precise knowledge of the universe. Because of this he has never been able to use a tool with any success. Oh, it’s possible that he once tried, clumsily. . . . Some curious vestiges have been found. There are a number of research projects going on at this moment into that particular subject. If you’re interested in these questions, I will introduce you someday to Cornelius. He is much more qualified than I am to discuss them.”
“Cornelius?”
“My fiancé said Zira, blushing. “A very great, a real scientist.”
“A chimpanzee?”
“Of course. . . . Anyway,” she concluded, “that’s what I think, too: our being equipped with four hands is one of the most important factors in our spiritual evolution. It helped us in the first place to climb trees, and thereby conceive the three dimensions of space, whe
reas man, pegged to the ground by a physical malformation, slumbered on the flat. A taste for tools came to us next because we had the potentiality of using them with dexterity. Achievement followed, and it is thus we have raised ourselves to the level of wisdom.”
On Earth I had frequently heard precisely the opposite argument used to explain the superiority of man. After thinking it over, however, Zira’s reasoning struck me as being neither more nor less convincing than ours.
I should have liked to pursue this conversation, and I still had a thousand questions to ask, when we were interrupted by Zoram and Zanam bringing the evening meal. Zira bade me a hasty good night and went off.
I remained in my cage with Nova as my only companion. We had finished eating. The gorillas had left, after putting out the lights, except the one over the entrance which gave a feeble gleam. I looked at Nova and thought about what I had learned during the day. It was obvious that she did not care for Zira and was vexed by these conversations. At first she had even protested in her usual manner and tried to come between Zira and me, leaping about the cage, tearing up handfuls of straw, and flinging them in the intruder’s face. I had had to resort to force to keep her quie After receiving a few thundering slaps across her beautiful face, she had eventually calmed down. I had allowed myself to indulge in this brutal behavior almost without thinking; afterward I felt sorry, but she appeared not to hold it against me.
The intellectual effort I had made to assimilate the simian theories of evolution left me worn out. I was happy when I saw Nova creep over to me in the dark and in her usual fashion beg for the half-human, half-animal caresses for which we had gradually worked out the code: a singular code, the details of which are of little importance, composed of compromise and reciprocal concessions to the manners of the civilized world and to the customs of this outlandish human race that populated the planet Soror.
CHAPTER TWENTY
It was a red-letter day for me. Yielding to my entreaties, Zira had agreed to take me out of the Institute for Advanced Biological Study—that was the name of the establishment—and show me around the town.
She had consented to this only after much hesitation. It had taken me some time to convince her finally of my origin. Until then, though admitting the evidence while in my company, she would later begin doubting again. I tried to put myself in her place. She could only be profoundly shocked by my description of the men and above all of the apes on our Earth. She subsequently told me that for a long time she had preferred to regard me as a sorcerer or a charlatan rather than accept my statements. Yet, confronted with the facts and the evidence I accumulated, she eventually had complete confidence in me and even began to work out a plan to enable me to recover my liberty, which was not easy, as she explained to me that day. Meanwhile she came to fetch me at the beginning of the afternoon to go on our outing.
I felt my heart thumping at the thought of being in the open air again. My enthusiasm was slightly curbed when I saw she was going to keep me on a lead. The gorillas took me out of the cage, banged the door shut in Nova’s face, and put around my neck a leather collar to which a strong chain was fixed. Zira took the other end and led me off, while a heart-rending whine from Nova stirred my compassion. But when I showed her a little pity and gave her a friendly wave, Zira looked angry and tugged me forward by the neck. Since she was now convinced I had an ape’s mind, my intimacy with the young girl vexed and shocked her.
Her bad temper evaporated when we were alone together in the dark, deserted corridor.
“I don’t suppose,” she laughed, “that men on Earth are used to being held on a lead like this by apes?”
I assured her they were not at all used to it. She apologized, explaining that even though there were a few tame men who could be taken out like this without causing a scene, it was more normal if I was tied up. Subsequently, if I proved harmless, she might possibly be able to relieve me of my fetters.
And partly forgetting my true condition, as she still often did, she began advising me about my behavior, which humiliated me deeply.
“Above all, do be careful not to turn on passers-by or bare your teeth or scratch a trustful child who might come up and pet you. I didn’t want to muzzle you, but . . .”
She stopped short and burst out laughing.
“Forgive me, forgive me!” she cried. “I keep forgetting you have a mind like an ape.”
She gave me a friendly tap on the shoulder by way of apology. Her high spirits dissolved my mounting resentment. I liked to hear her laugh. Nova’s inability to manifest her joy in this way sometimes made me sigh. I shared the she-ape’s gaiety. In the half-light of the corridor I could no longer see her face except for the tip of her white muzzle. She had put on a smart coat and skirt to go out and a scarf that concealed her ears. For a moment I forgot her simian condition and took her arm. She found my gesture quite natural and did not object. We walked along for a bit like this, side by side. At the end of the corridor, lit by a window in the side wall, she quickly withdrew her arm and pushed me away. Reverting to a more serious mood, she tugged on my chain.
“You mustn’t behave like this,” she said, looking slightly distressed. “In the first place, I’m engaged and—”
“You’re engaged!”
The incongruity of her remark about my gesture of familiarity struck her at the same time as it did me. She corrected herself, blushing at the muzzle. “I mean, no one must suspect your nature for the moment. It’s in your own interests, I assure you.”
I took her advice and allowed myself to be led along quietly. We left the building. The porter of the institute, a big gorilla clad in a uniform, let us out, observing me with curiosity after having saluted Zira. On the sidewalk I staggered slightly, giddy from the exercise and dazzled by the glare of Betelgeuse after more than three months’ captivity. I inhaled the warm air deeply; at the same time, I felt embarrassed to be walking around naked. I had grown used to this in my cage, but here I felt grotesque and indecent under the eyes of the apes passing by, who kept staring at me. Zira had categorically refused to let me wear clothes, maintaining that I would have looked even more ridiculous dressed up, like one of those tame men who are exhibited at fairs. She was no doubt right. In fact, if the passers-by turned around to stare at me, it was not because I was naked but simply because I was a man, a species that in the streets roused the same sort of curiosity as would a chimpanzee in a French city. The adults merely grinned and continued on their way, but some young apes began to gather around me in great glee. Zira quickly led me off toward her car, motioned me into the back seat, sat down herself behind the steering wheel, and drove me slowly along the streets.
The town—the capital of an important simian region—I had barely glimpsed on my arrival, and I now had to resign myself to seeing it peopled by ape pedestrians, ape motorists, ape shopkeepers, ape businessmen, and apes in uniform whose job was to maintain law and order. Apart from this, it did not make a great impression on me. The houses were similar to ours; the roads, which were fairly dirty, looked like our roads. The traffic was less heavy than at home. What struck me most of all was the way the pedestrians crossed the street. There were no marked crossings, only overhead passages consisting of a metal frame to which they clung with all four hands. They all wore fine leather gloves that did not interfere with their prehension.
When she had driven around sufficiently to give me a general picture of the town, Zira stopped her car in front of a tall gate through which I could see .banks of flowers.
“The park,” she said. “We can go for a little stroll. I should have liked to show you some other things—our museums, for instance, which are outstanding—but that’s not possible yet.”
I assured her that I should be delighted to stretch my legs.
“And besides,” she went on, “we’ll be left in peace here. There are not many people about and it’s time for us to have a serious conversation.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“I don’t
think you realize, do you, the danger you are in here on Soror?”
“I’ve already had some experience of it; but I feel that if I showed myself in my true colors—and I can do so now by providing proof—the apes ought to admit me as their spiritual brother.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Now listen . . .”
We were strolling through the park. The paths were almost deserted and we had passed no more than one or two courting couples who were roused to a momentary curiosity by my presence. I, on the other hand, stared at them shamelessly, being firmly resolved not to miss a single opportunity to learn about simian customs.
They walked along together holding each other around the waist, the length of their arms making this embrace a tight and complex encirclement. They would often stop at a corner of a path to exchange a kiss or two. From time to time also, after darting a furtive glance all around, they would take hold of the low branches of a tree and swing themselves off the ground. This they accomplished without separating, each of them using one hand and one foot with an ease that I envied, and they would then disappear into the foliage.
“Now listen,” said Zira. “Your launch”—I had told her in detail how we had arrived on the planet—”your launch has been discovered; at least what’s left of it after being pillaged. It has aroused the curiosity of our researchers. They realize it was not manufactured here.”
“Do you build similar machines?”
“Yes, but not so perfected. From what you’ve told me, we’re a long way behind you. We have, however, already launched artificial satellites around our planet, the last one even being occupied by a living being: a man. We had to destroy it in flight because we were unable to recover it.”
“I see,” I said, lost in thought. “So men also serve you for this sort of experiment.”