He chewed industriously.
She asked, What’s it taste like?
Grinding it between his molars, he answered, A plastic bag.
She bit off a piece also. She chewed twice before spitting the chunk back into her hand. She said, Maybe the printing process changes it.
He spat out also and said, I sure hope so.
They stood there, eyeing the pantry shelves. There was a long silence. Packets of mac’n’cheese, hot chocolate mix and ramen noodles lined the shelves, almost everything dehydrated and meant to be microwaved, no fruit at all.
He said, I’ll search the other buildings for food. You stay here and make sure they’re alright.
He pulled on a pair of safety goggles from the janitor’s closet and tied a scarf over his face as a dust mask, before heading outside. Frankie watched from the window, but through the dust could see nothing.
Meanwhile the bonobos kept whining. So one by one she handed out the vegetables and fruit in the fridge. A head of lettuce, three apples, a Spanish onion, half a tomato and some pears. They passed each around, taking little nibbles and cooing. The Spanish onion made them huff in with surprise. Still they ate it. When all of the fruits and vegetables were gone, they looked to her for more. Meanwhile she poured the sour-smelling milk into a baby bottle and, with no way to heat it, simply handed it to Tooch for his breakfast. Frankie had seen him eat solid food, but not much. He took the bottle eagerly from her and rolled onto his back to nurse from it. At his first sip, he jerked his head away and coughed, spitting it out.
Mama sniffed the bottle’s nipple and shot Frankie a piercing look.
Hey, said Frankie, I’m doing what I can.
She moved into the pantry, opening every cupboard and searching systematically now. She eyed the can of espresso but had no way to make the coffee for herself and Mama. In the end, she returned with the last of the granola bars, this being the least harmful item she could find. She unwrapped a bar and handed it to Mama. Mama turned it over in her hands, then raised it to her mouth to lever off the smallest bite. She chewed with an inward expression, then with more enthusiasm.
Frankie opened the rest of the bars and handed them out, then gave Tooch a bottle of orange juice.
When Stotts came back in the door an hour later, he pushed a dolly of dusty food: two large boxes labeled Dried Fruit Medley, a 30-pound sack of corn on the cob and a commercial-sized container of Fluff.
She asked, Where’d you get this?
Snack Shack, he said, The selection was somewhat limited.
They offered the dried fruit first, cutting open the individual bags and handing them out. It took the bonobos 30 minutes to eat it all. Then they looked to the humans for more, having finished the appetizer.
She walked around with a large bottle of water, letting each drink for a while, hoping the fruit in their bellies would expand enough to fill them up. Still they continued to tap their fingertips together in the sign for More more, so she and Stotts went into the pantry to shuck the corn.
Frankie asked, You checked on the keeper and the others?
Yep.
How they doing?
He said, The keeper, she’s got the gorillas. She seems stressed. Martin’s got the chimps and Rita’s with the orangutans. They seemed less worried. No one has much food left for their apes. I reminded them about the Snack Shack.
And how are the other apes doing?
The gorillas and others aren’t as sensitive to the dust as the bonobos, so they’re in their normal sleeping chambers—bored and without a lot of room to move, but at least not roaming the hallways causing trouble.
She asked, Was there any milk at the Snack Shack for Tooch?
It’s all gone bad, said Stotts, He’s gonna get weaned fast.
Is he old enough?
We’ll find out, he said.
*
With every hour, the static electricity got stronger.
Midmorning, Frankie slid her doorknob bolt into the door of the janitor’s closet to open it. Tired, her fingers fumbled slightly so one finger brushed the metal of the faceplate. The electrical zap she got was strong enough that her hand quivered, an object she could not control. Strangely she tasted licorice on the back of her tongue.
Scared the bonobos might get hurt, she began baptizing them, carrying water around in a bucket and running her wet hands over their clothes, hands and heads, wiping away the electric charge. They reacted by nestling their faces into her hands, holding their chins up for her touch, their trust complete. She filled up the bucket every time she saw tendrils of their hair begin to rise into the air from the static.
Houdina was the only one who didn’t want Frankie to touch her. Frankie had to plead with her to run her wet hands over her.
In reaction to the shocks, Stotts started wearing socks over his hands, decreasing the chance his flesh would touch anything conductive. He got shocked less often than the rest, but when he did, it was actually audible—the kzat of all that built-up static and his teeth clacking shut. He stepped away from them all, trying not to brush against anything, moving through the rooms and between the bonobos with the slow-breathing caution of an astronaut.
Not being the kind of person who touched others a lot, she found under these circumstances that touch was comforting. She walked around hand-in-hand with Goliath and tucked Id into her sweater to keep her warm. Midmorning when Mama patted the ground in front of her, she obediently sat down to be groomed.
Mama began to run her fingers through her hair, combing it upward, trying to style it. She worked, clucking to herself, her fingers warm and gentle. Frankie’s eyes closed in enjoyment.
*
In the late morning, Id decided it was time to clean Frankie’s nails properly. She picked up Frankie’s hand, examining the nails one at a time, making a small tut-tut noise. Frankie sat there patiently, her nose an inch from the top of Id’s head, the scent here somehow the richest, a mixture of heat and baby flesh and milk. Id ran her fingernail beneath Frankie’s nails, trying to scrape out the dirt, then paused to examine the results. Dissatisfied, she placed each fingertip in her mouth and sucked with the rhythmic power of someone who still breastfed.
Throughout this, Houdina glared at Frankie. The more time Id spent with her, the more Houdina seemed to resent her. As soon as Id stepped away, Houdina threw a pumpkin chunk at Frankie, the chunk sailing past her head.
Mama turned to Houdina, displeased. Adele added an angry waaa-bark. Houdina whined and slunk away. However, from then on, she wouldn’t let Frankie baptize her, not even for a granola bar, so Stotts had to do it. At least this decreased the static for both Stotts and Houdina.
With Stotts, Houdina cuddled into his lap, delivering sloppy kisses to his chin, hungry for attention.
*
For lunch, Frankie and Stotts shucked the corncobs and piled the corn in the hall. The bonobos eagerly scraped their teeth over the cobs. When they finished, they looked up at the humans, wanting more.
Stotts picked up one of the remaining pumpkin chunks and said, Hey, you can eat this too, you know.
To demonstrate, he bit into the pumpkin’s raw flesh. He chewed—an audible crunching noise—and said, Yum-yum.
The bonobos turned to Frankie for her opinion. Having no choice, she picked up a chunk and put it in her mouth also. It smelled faintly of bonobo pee, but then everything smelled that way by now. To get her teeth through the pumpkin, she had to move the chunk to the side of her mouth. Chewing, her head bounced with the force of her jaws.
The bonobos did not pick up the pumpkin, but just watched, fascinated, their eyebrows high.
So she got the jar of Fluff from the pantry and spread some on her pumpkin slice.
What’re you doing, asked Stotts.
Whatever I have to, she said.
Checking that the bonobos were w
atching, she took a bite of the Fluff-covered pumpkin. It still took work to get her teeth through the flesh, but once the sweetness hit her taste buds, she inhaled, chewing with more energy. She realized she hadn’t eaten all that much since the storm had started.
The bonobos watched, attentive.
Still crunching through the pumpkin, she smeared a thin coat of Fluff on another piece and handed it to Mama. Mama sniffed the piece, then passed it to Adele who sniffed it and passed it on. In the end, Houdina was the only one brave enough—or hungry enough—to try it. She needed enough calories to breastfeed Id. She glared suspiciously at Frankie before licking the Fluff.
As the taste registered, her eyes went still—commercial sugar such a heightened version of the sweetness of fruit. Then she jammed the whole chunk in her mouth and began chewing.
The bonobos chirped excitedly, while Frankie and Stotts smeared Fluff across pumpkin and handed the food out.
If any of them tried sucking the Fluff off the pumpkin, Frankie and Stotts wouldn’t give that bonobo any more until the slice was eaten. In this way, they cajoled the bonobos into eating their full meal, using the same mixture of threats and praise that a parent employed.
*
At times Frankie and Stotts forgot their BodyWare was turned off and addressed it out of habit, saying Ok, Bin—
Then they’d pause, remembering.
*
Each time Houdina breastfed Id, Tooch stared. He’d had no milk all day.
Bit by bit, he knuckled in closer, whining. Whenever he got within a foot, Houdina became uneasy, picked Id up and moved away.
*
Stepping into the bathroom, Frankie could see the cubicle was shut, bonobo legs underneath. Curious, she opened the door. Inside were Marge and Sweetie, having sex standing up. They turned to stare at her.
Sorry, she said and shut the door.
Then stood there for a moment, considering what had just happened. Marge, she remembered, had been the female whose temperature had started rising two days ago. Probably she was ovulating now. Each time a female ovulated, she selected Sweetie to have secret sex with.
For the rest of the day, Frankie watched Sweetie, considering him.
As soon as the dust storm was over, she’d order genetic tests on all the juveniles. She bet the results would show most of them had been sired by Sweetie.
*
Before dinner, Stotts put on his goggles and scarf again to get more food from the Snack Shack.
When he returned, he brought two boxes of ice cream bars, a pack of hot dogs, several bags of chips and many loaves of Wonder Bread.
That really isn’t bonobo food, Frankie said.
He nodded, The question is what’s the least bad for them.
They stared at the food options, considering, never having had to make a decision like this without being able to consult the Quark.
By this point, each time Frankie looked at Stotts, she felt a palpable relief, a little less worry in her veins. She wasn’t the only human working to keep the bonobos alive and healthy. In the hallway, whenever one of the bonobos wandered by wearing anything close to the green of his sweater, she’d turn. Then realize her mistake.
She said, Someone once told me the amount of salt on a single potato chip can kill a cat.
That true?
I don’t know.
Better safe than sorry.
She nodded, Alright, we eat the salty stuff. They get the non-salty.
Stotts picked up one of the boxes of ice-cream sandwiches.
Noooo, she said.
They’ll melt soon and we won’t have these calories anymore. Might as well try it.
How come they’re still frozen?
He said, There’s a tiny fridge in Gropius’s office, so old it wasn’t Quark-enabled. These and the hot dogs were inside, on top of what was left of the ice.
He tore open the box and handed her a single ice-cream sandwich, Go for it, you trendsetter.
Frankie stepped out of the pantry and peeled the wrapper off the sandwich. Her audience watched. She bit a small bite off a corner. She wanted to eat as little as possible to save the food for the bonobos, but when the creamy sweetness hit her taste buds, she looked down at the bar and inhaled.
Mama reached out, asking for part.
Frankie handed the ice-cream sandwich over and Mama lipped a bite off, then took a second bigger bite, grunting in surprise.
While the bonobos began their normal orgy, Stotts and Frankie ripped the wrappers off the rest of the ice cream so none of them would choke on the paper. Frankie wondered how much this moment—social bonobos having orgasms and harried humans accomplishing tasks—illustrated the differences between the species.
The bonobos loved the ice-cream sandwich, eating not like thoughtful gourmets, but like hungry children, jamming most of a bar into the mouth in a single bite.
Unable to cook the hot dogs for themselves, Frankie and Stotts ate some American cheese and Wonder Bread. Sitting on the floor in the research room, they chewed mechanically and chugged water. They leaned back against the wall, so happy to be still, staring out a window at the storm. The dust swirled, shifting subtly.
Frankie said, Today I caught Marge and Sweetie in the bathroom having secret sex.
Stotts looked at her, Secret sex?
Yep. I’ve caught several of the females doing this when they’re ovulating. They wait until the others are sleeping or distracted, then sneak off. When they climax, they’re silent, just sort of huffing.
Stotts blinked, Silent?
Yep, she said, And every time so far it’s with Sweetie. I believe it might be because he’s got neoteny.
Neoteny?
Means looking like a baby even as an adult. It’s genetically linked with domestication.
He cocked his head.
She said, Back in the 1950s, this Russian scientist—what was his name?— started experimenting with foxes. With each generation he let only the most peaceful foxes reproduce, the ones who wouldn’t bite or freak out when handled. Within 20 generations, the foxes began to act like dogs. Social, playful, affectionate. Domesticated. They’d wag their tails and lick your fingers.
She continued, The interesting thing is even though these foxes were bred entirely from wild foxes, they looked different, a bit like, I don’t know, a Japanese cartoon of a fox. Huge heads, tiny bodies, less muscle. Like a baby fox. Cute as all get-out.
He said, Sweetie’s like that.
Yep, he’s even got that little white tail tuft like a baby bonobo. Researchers have repeated this experiment with other species and found the same results. If you breed for lack of aggression, you end up with adults that look like babies. Neoteny.
He leaned his head back against the wall, Like domesticated pigs?
Yep, pigs are big soft babies compared to wild boars. The important thing to realize is the males in most species will breed with any female who stays still long enough. It’s the females who are selective. What they desire has a huge effect. If all the female walruses got together one day to decide they wanted polka dots, within a few generations the males would have polka dots. The female’s wish made physical on the male’s body.
He said, But bonobo females aren’t selective.
She answered, Until they’re ovulating. At that point, it appears the only male they’ll copulate with is Sweetie, a gentle male with baby-appeal.
He looked out at the storm and said, You believe the females are domesticating their own species? That they’re breeding peaceful social bonobos?
Yep, a race of oversexed Gandhis. Of course it’ll take a long time to get enough data to see if it’s true.
He asked, And chimps are heading in the opposite direction?
She pictured the male who looked like Goliath in the chimp enclosure, his muscled body and
tiny eyes.
She said, Could be. With chimps, I believe the alpha male gets the most mating opportunities. If that’s true—and the females aren’t able to sneak around him—then the aggressive brawny males are the ones who will pass on their genes.
What about humans?
Humans?
He looked away, Women. What do they find attractive?
It took her a moment. She said, Well, to generalize, women tend to marry the peaceful males, the guys who can sit still through school, who manage not to punch the boss. However when a woman ovulates, there is a somewhat increased desire for an aggressive man with a square jaw. This keeps a bit of the brute in our genotype.
Stotts said under his breath, Knew it.
Then he blinked, realizing he’d spoken out loud.
There was a pause while she considered his words.
You, she said, You had a problem with gals?
He was starting to formulate his response, when Petey and Rita bolted into the room, moving with such speed that they kicked up onto the wall and galloped along it sideways like acrobats, before running back out. The sugar high had hit.
Frankie and Stotts got to their feet and hurried after them.
*
Tooch hadn’t had any milk all day. That evening, he approached Houdina again, whining. She started to get up to move away from him, but Mama grunted, a harsh demanding noise.
Marge and Adele looked over, every bonobo in the room staring at Houdina.
She froze.
Tooch cautiously climbed into her lap and began to nurse. Houdina stayed still, looking big-eyed at Marge and Adele.
Late that evening when Id nursed, she kept at it for a long time, whining with frustration, trying to get enough milk. Throughout it, Houdina held Id close, grimacing each time Id yanked.
*
That night, Frankie noticed the way the bonobos squinted into the light of her headlamp, holding a hand up to shade their eyes.
So she began turning her headlamp off whenever she could. Once she’d started this, switching the light on hurt her eyes. Soon she just kept the light off, finding her way through the rooms with one hand on the wall, her eyes adjusting.
A few minutes later, Stotts approached, his headlamp on. She squinted into the beam the way the rest of them did, blinded.
Theory of Bastards Page 24
