Theory of Bastards

by Audrey Schulman

  He suggested, Think of him as your colleague. We’re introducing you. Try to act polite and give a good first impression. If you need to communicate anything, write it out on the whiteboard.

  Ok, Door open, he said and opened the door into the enclosure. He called out, Goliath, you want to come visit?

  Frankie stared surprised through the door into the enclosure, the sense of open space, the smell of manure and fruit and cleaning products. The visible bonobos glanced over, nothing between them and her.

  Goliath, Stotts called.

  A bonobo popped his head up over the edge of the hill, considering them.

  Stotts said, That new researcher I told you about yesterday is here. You want to meet her?

  The bonobo didn’t move forward.

  You told him about me? Frankie asked.

  Of course, he said, We ask permission. He agreed when he heard you’re a woman. All the bonobos prefer women.

  He turned back to Goliath and called, I’ll let you look through the new People.

  Goliath began to knuckle toward them.

  She asked confused, Look through the new people?

  People Magazine.

  Nooo . . .

  Oh yes, said Stotts, Goliath has a crush on Jade Pitt, always looks for photos of her.

  Jade who?

  The actress from that L.A. medical show.

  Really? How do you know?

  Stotts stepped away from the open door to empty his bag of all edibles—gummy bears and a banana—into a desk drawer. He closed and locked the drawer while he said, Ma’am, bonobo love is not subtle.

  She blinked to get rid of the image in her head.

  Goliath was moving leisurely toward them, pausing occasionally to examine a milk crate or some food debris. His wandering path reminded her of the way a cat will approach to be petted, moseying along indirect enough not to lose self-respect.

  She asked, How much English does he understand?

  The avatar repeated her words in sign, her brow raised to signal a question.

  Stotts looked to make sure Goliath was too far away to hear. He said, Hard to know. Goliath was raised pretty much as a human child in an American family. Had his own bed, wore clothes and drank tea. Raised with spoken English and sign. Then he grew up—got strong and, well, sexual—and the family gave their child to us.

  Frankie looked at him, waiting for a better answer to her question.

  He said, The language researchers don’t want our anecdotes. They want randomized trials using sentences the bonobos have probably never heard before, no potential communication through gesture or glance. So they perform tests where they wear masks, sit motionless and ask in spoken English for the bonobos to put the ball in the microwave or the rock on the shoe.

  And . . .

  Stotts shrugged, If someone in a lab coat asks a human to do a task, the person will generally obey as well as they can. The bonobos, if they don’t like the researcher or find the experiment boring, they’ll walk away. I once saw a researcher ask Goliath to put a banana in his armpit and he just stared at her.

  So what are the results?

  Pre-school.

  What?

  He said, On average, for those like Goliath who were raised with English, their comprehension is roughly equivalent to a four-year-old’s.

  Frankie blinked at Stotts, then turned back to Goliath who was near the door. Compact as a gymnast, he ambled forward with a bear’s rolling stride.

  He said, And when they talk with us—using sign—their vocab is on par with that of a three-year-old.

  Behind him, the avatar signed each of his words, her expression bland.

  Goliath entered the room, all curious eyes and shiny black fur, a boy morphed with a Labrador.

  Stotts put some equipment on the desk: a beat-up metal box, a thick rope and some large rocks. He asked, Can you shut the door please?

  Goliath didn’t glance at the avatar’s translation, but closed the door and turned the knob to latch it. He climbed onto the desk next to Stotts (the comfort between them apparent) and stared with interest at Frankie. He rested his hands on his knees. They were huge and weathered, substantially bigger than a human’s hands, the knuckles so clearly hinges.

  She sat still in her chair. Sitting with a bonobo in the same room felt different from watching one through plexiglass. The lack of a barrier shifted everything.

  Stotts took a banana out of the drawer, showed it to Goliath and placed it in the metal box.

  At the sight of food, Goliath got an erection. His penis, the color of a pencil eraser, was so narrow and long that even when erect it drooped at the end. He looked Stotts in the eye while pouting, a hairy version of Marilyn Monroe’s come-hither look.

  Ma’am, Stotts explained, Bonobos reduce conflict through sex. In captivity, the main source of conflict is food. After a while, the males get conditioned to react this way.

  Frankie looked at the avatar, of course trying to pick out the gesture for sex, but the avatar signed too quickly.

  He closed the metal box with the banana in it and began to tie the box shut with the thick rope.

  Goliath’s erection began to slump.

  What about in the wild, Frankie asked.

  Both Stotts and Goliath looked at her.

  Stotts said, Perhaps I wasn’t clear. Please don’t talk around Goliath. He’s not my pet. I can’t control him.

  He continued, To answer your question, in the wild, if they find a large fruit tree, they have sex before they eat. If they bump into a strange group of bonobos, both sides break large branches off trees and bellow, demonstrating how strong and tough they are. After that, the two groups mingle to have sex. Like with humans, sex calms everyone down, creates bonds.

  Frankie had always believed in experimentation, checking each assumption to make sure it was true. Watching Goliath, she asked, Would he have sex with you?

  At her speaking for the second time in front of him, Goliath’s look became something more. Clear and piercing. His brow furrowed, he leaned forward, placing his huge hands on the edge of the desk.

  She felt fear prickle up her spine. This might be a remarkably peaceful species, but that didn’t mean it was without violence.

  Stotts said almost under his breath, Goliath, she means no harm.

  It was obvious he wasn’t sure what Goliath would do. In spite of this, even though he could no more hold off Goliath than she could, he stepped into the space between them, placing his body in defense of hers.

  He waited there, breathing, his hands loose at his sides.

  Goliath looked from her to Stotts and back.

  Frankie stayed very still.

  There was a long moment. Then looking into Stotts’ face, Goliath grunted and his expression eased. He took his hands off the edge of the desk.

  Stotts absorbed the change before swiveling to her. He looked frankly baffled.

  He said, Dr. Burk, if you speak again, I will escort you from the room; I will not allow you in here again.

  He said sadly, I don’t care if Bellows fires me.

  He faced her like he’d faced Goliath, knowing that if it came to a fight, he was almost certain to lose, but facing her nonetheless.

  She must admit he was growing on her.

  He continued, I also want you to understand that you might be much smarter than me and an expert on many things I know nothing about, but in here, with him, until you get used to their rules, you’re going to have to obey me. That clear?

  She inclined her head, a subtle motion.

  He studied her, then asked again, Are you sure?

  She nodded more distinctly.

  He looked at Goliath and then back at her.

  He asked, Goliath, is it alright if she stays?

  Goliath considered her for a long
moment. His dark eyes narrowed, a bright pinprick of light in the back of each. Then he pumped one fist up and down. The avatar translated the sign into English, saying, Yes.

  Stotts said, Thanks.

  He said to her, Dr. Burk, I’m now going to talk a lot, so maybe I can answer your questions before you feel the need to ask them. To answer your earlier question, he’d have relations with anyone and anything, including this desk, if he got bored.

  Goliath didn’t watch the avatar’s translation. The tension in his body had already evaporated, a personality who forgave. Now he just listened, letting his dark eyes move from Stotts’ face to Frankie’s and then back. Either he understood English perfectly or he wasn’t that interested in what was being said. She tried to imagine how much a four-year-old would comprehend, a child almost ready to go to kindergarten.

  Stotts finished tying the metal box shut. He glanced at her, checking she wasn’t getting into more trouble, and said, My research here concerns the development of humanity, how we became what we are. Bonobos are similar to Australopithe­cus—body size, limb to torso ratio, and brain size. They even have lots of von Economo neurons, these neurons associated with higher order abilities like empathy, humor and self-recognition. Basically, they are as close as you can get to a living version of early humans.

  She watched Goliath. His eyes were focused on the embroidered frog on her skirt. From his expression, she didn’t think he liked her sense of fashion.

  Stotts said, So I’m trying to teach him flint knapping.

  She furrowed her brow in confusion.

  He answered, Flint knapping—you know—making stone tools. By watching how Goliath masters the task, I hope to learn how the early humans might have done it.

  With the box tied shut, he handed it to Goliath. Goliath tugged on the lid and then on the rope, a bit like a magician’s assistant demonstrating the box couldn’t be opened. Then, unlike the magician’s assistant, he gnawed on the rope, his eyes half closed. After a moment he gave up, spat some rope fuzz out and wiped at his mouth.

  Stotts said, Watch what I’m doing. If you can do it, you can cut the rope and get the treat.

  For a moment, Frankie thought he was talking to her—the speed and intonation of his voice the same.

  Goliath focused on Stotts’ hands.

  Stotts selected a rock from the desk, a smooth egg shape, a comfortable size for his hand. He said, This is my hammerstone. It’s granite. A beauty. I found it in a riverbed near here.

  She guessed this information was addressed to her.

  The second rock he chose was bigger and uneven. He said, This rock is chert, a bit like glass. Easy to carve if you hit it right. Chert is what pre-humans used. There isn’t a good supply around here, so I get most of my chert from Illinois.

  Stotts sat down on the desk next to Goliath and slowly rotated the chert in his hands, examining it.

  He said, Of course the big question is how the hominids found the right kind of rock to use, especially chert since it’s fairly rare. We won’t try to teach Goliath that part.

  Goliath looked at the rocks and then at Frankie, perhaps checking what she thought of all this.

  Stotts said, This will make a noise. Don’t be startled.

  She thought at this point he was probably talking to both of them.

  Stotts balanced the chert on his thigh, then hit the edge of it with the egg-shaped stone, an easy motion of his arm. There was a plink, almost like pottery breaking, and a chunk fell off the bottom of the chert. Goliath’s eyes narrowed.

  The avatar said, Yes.

  Frankie glanced at Goliath. He hadn’t made any sign-language gesture. She didn’t know why the avatar had spoken, what she was translating.

  It’s all in the angle, said Stotts.

  He shifted the chert slightly, eyeing it, and then rebalanced it and hit it again. Plink, and another chunk cracked off and fell to the ground.

  Even though Goliath still hadn’t signed anything, the avatar repeated, Yes.

  Watching the avatar speak made Frankie uneasy. Partly it was the image of a bonobo opening her lips to talk, but it was also the mouth and teeth. Whoever had designed this avatar had paid attention only to the outside, the shape and fur. Inside she was human. Each time she spoke, she parted her lips to reveal flat teeth inside a tiny human mouth.

  Stotts rotated the rock and hit it again. He whittled it this way like wood, with ease. His hands moved confidently, shaping the chert. His body relaxed into this task, forgetting about her.

  Meanwhile the avatar kept saying Yes.

  Frankie realized the avatar must be translating his flint knapping motions into sign. Each time Stotts rocked his fist in the air before bringing the granite down onto the chert, she translated the fist-pump as Yes.

  Yes, she said, Yes, yes. (Her intonation as flat as if she were on a call with her boss.)

  The underlying mechanics of Stotts’ hands and arms were very apparent—the working bones, the tendons pulling and muscles bunching, the fingertips pressed tight. The hands showcased in their capabilities. Frankie thought of a porpoise flashing through the water, of an ant carrying a pebble ten times its weight.

  Like many modern humans, she didn’t have any specialized skills with her hands. She felt the same mystified admiration as when she watched a person knit or play the piano or type (the way people used to before dictation got perfected), the hands shifting through their motions, filled with an eerie intelligence. Her own hands hung at the end of her arms, miraculous tools she’d never developed.

  The image appeared to her of his hands holding his daughter’s hand. She closed her eyes for a moment and, when she opened them, he was watching her.

  He asked, You need anything?

  She inhaled and shook her head no.

  He watched her for another moment, then turned back to the rocks, You’re probably curious why I chose Goliath for this research. The female bonobos tend to refuse to work with a male researcher. So I started off with Petey, but after three months he couldn’t get the hang of it. Now I’ve switched to Goliath. He’s younger, smart and easy to work with. Right?

  Goliath peeped his assent, his voice as high-pitched as a chipmunk’s.

  Stotts held up the final product, a sliver of a rock, an uneven but sharp shard. He cut the rope with three fast slices and pulled the banana from the box.

  Ta-da, he said.

  This time he put a few of the gummy bears into the box and began to tie the box shut. Goliath’s interest was much greater at the sight of the sweets, his new erection a thumbs-up of gastronomic approval. He stared at where the gummy bears were even once they were hidden inside the box.

  Stotts said to Goliath, If you can make a piece of rock sharp enough to cut the rope, you get the gummy bears. And if you just try for a while, I’ll let you look through the magazine for Jade.

  Goliath picked up the egg-shaped stone to use as a hammer. It sat so small in his hand he had to curl his fingers awkwardly to the side to get them out of the way.

  Stotts took a bite of the banana, closing his eyes as he chewed. He said, Before Syria I never really appreciated fruit. Then I spent four years with prepackaged army meals—MREs. These days, they’re 3-D-printed from soy or meat by-products, vitamins added. Since then, a banana . . . it seems like a miracle.

  Goliath examined the selection of chert before choosing one, weighed it in his hand.

  He didn’t balance the chert on his thigh as Stotts had done, but held both chert and hammerstone out at the end of his arms, far from each other, before slamming them together straight-armed in front of him. The stones whacked together solidly, head on. The sound more of a thunk than a plink. No shards fell off. He narrowed his eyes, inhaled and tried again. He hit them together, harder each time. It must have hurt his palms to absorb each blow. In spite of his strength, only dust and tiny fragmen
ts came off.

  The avatar translated this gesture each time as Big. Big.

  Stotts said, You’re getting a little better each day. Right?

  Goliath peeped.

  Stotts said to Frankie, He’s working hard. No experience with tools or the applied physics of conchoidal fractures. It’s possible there’s some critical learning period when this can be mastered, the same as with language acquisition. If so, I’ll try again with a juvenile.

  She considered her question, stripped every extra word she could out of it and then jotted it on the whiteboard beside her for Stotts to see. At her movement, both Stotts and Goliath turned to watch, flat-eyed with suspicion.

  How long he tried?

  Her grammar like Tarzan’s.

  Stotts answered, A month.

  DAY 4

  Six

  Bellows had given Frankie the only apartment on the Foundation’s land—on the far side of the parking lot from the bonobos. The apartment had plain boxy furniture and there was a calendar pinned up behind the bathroom door showing shirtless women using wrenches for a variety of unlikely plumbing tasks. She assumed the last occupant was a janitor who’d been let go when the finances got tighter. With little notice before she’d moved in, the rooms smelled of new paint, but they hadn’t been able to repair everything. Two of the stove’s burners wouldn’t light, the E-musement system wouldn’t turn off and one of the awning windows in the living room wouldn’t close itself when asked to. It only made a sad grinding noise, unable to shut that last half-inch.

  In the early evening, through that window, she could hear the different species of apes calling or fighting in their enclosures, all those mysterious coughs and screams. She didn’t know how to tell the species apart through their sounds, except that, among the full-throated barks and roars of the other species, the bonobos sounded like Chihuahuas.

  Long before dawn, on the fourth morning she was there, the scream of some ape woke her. Maybe a chimpanzee.

  Knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore, she got out of bed, brushed her teeth and headed toward the bonobo building, pushing the wheelchair, walking so much more easily than even yesterday. The surgeon had liberally applied nanogels to each incision inside her to accelerate the healing. When she got tired, she sat in the wheelchair and rolled herself along. Above, the stars glittered.