by Jim Beard
No wonder, she thought, that man chose to be mute.
* * *
“She was an ape to remember, as well as a naturalist of considerable intellect, dedication, and potential. Her untimely end is a loss to us all.”
Zorba stood before a podium in the city temple, delivering the eulogy. A stone statue of the Lawgiver, suitably larger than life, loomed behind him as he gazed out over the assembled mourners, which included Captain Atlas, who was seated among the other gorillas. A closed casket hid Janae’s battered remains from view. Zorba was grateful for that small mercy.
“How ironic it is that our beloved friend and colleague met her end at the hands of the very beasts she bravely sought to study,” Zorba continued. “And yet her tragic fate is not without meaning, for it serves to remind us of a bitter truth: man cannot be trusted. He is, and will always be, a savage animal whose murderous instincts are at odds with all that is civilized and simian. Janae re-learned that harsh lesson during her harrowing final moments. The rest of us must never forget it.”
Atlas winked at him from the audience.
How dare he? Zorba thought. Has he no sense of decency… or discretion?
The Minister was deeply offended by the gorilla’s callousness. This was an occasion for sorrow, no matter how necessary certain actions had been. Zorba had spoken truly when he’d praised Janae’s intellect and determination moments before; nothing short of death was enough to still her restless curiosity. Given time, she might well have uncovered the forbidden truth of man’s origins, or at least pointed others in the right direction.
And that could never be risked.
Zorba averted his gaze from the damning casket, even as he knew that there had been no other way to silence Janae permanently. What he had done had been for the good of all apekind, both today and for generations to come. His troubled conscience sought comfort in the memory of his beloved grandson, who had just this morning spoken his first word.
That word had been “Ape.”
* * *
Paul Kupperberg’s “Dangerous Imaginings,” another “What if…?” tale in which Earth was not destroyed in Beneath the Planet of the Apes, reveals forbidden knowledge to a trio of eager and impressionable young apes…
* * *
DANGEROUS IMAGININGS
by
PAUL KUPPERBERG
Ever since he was a little chimp, Darius would have to suppress an involuntary giggle any time an elder sat the children down to tell them, in hushed and frightened tones, tales of the Forbidden Zone. The monstrous creatures who inhabited it. The ghostly lights and sounds that haunted its nights. The bands of wild humans who had forsaken fruits and vegetables for the taste of ape flesh, particularly that of any youngster foolish enough to cross the border between civilization and savagery.
“None,” children were warned as soon as they could understand the words, “have ever entered the Zone and returned alive.”
But if none who entered had ever returned, who was it who had brought back these tales?
So, the elders were either lying to them about what was in the Forbidden Zone… or about the fates of those who had entered it.
Or both.
Darius had also concluded early on that it was best to keep such ideas to himself. His parents, both intellectuals—his father taught philosophy at the Academy and his mother was a physician—had raised him to question everything, but even they would have to draw the line at what was, at the very least, their son’s heresy. New ideas were scary and unwelcome. And new ideas that questioned the consensus were deemed too dangerous to even be thought, much less allowed to spread.
So Darius kept his heresy a secret.
Just as he did his ever deeper explorations into the Forbidden Zone.
He probably would never have even noticed the smooth, shiny rock if he hadn’t stubbed his toe on it while walking along the edge of a corn field several miles outside the city. Over the years, Darius had come to know large tracts of the forbidden terrain beyond the hills almost as well as the streets between his home and the Academy, where he had been engaged in research and teaching since graduating the institution as an engineer. The young chimp never even told his soon-to-be life-mate or closest friend of his explorations. His forays into the unknown weren’t just forbidden by ape law—they were heretical to ape belief.
But if ape-eating humans, ghosts, and demonic lights were out there, they didn’t seem much concerned with Darius. He went where he pleased, unmolested by anything more dangerous than stinging insects and the harsh sun. There were an abundance of wild human tribes living in and around the forests of the Zone, but he would usually catch no more than a glimpse of their pale, pink hides as they crashed loudly and fearfully into the underbrush and overhead foliage at the first sign or scent of his approach.
But something was hidden out there. Where there were secrets, he thought, there also had to be lies.
Not that Darius had yet come across any lies or discovered a reality that was inconsistent with the words of the Lawgiver.
Until the moment he struck his toe on a smooth, silver rock sticking several inches out of the ground.
* * *
It came slowly to Darius, like awareness from a deep, comfortable sleep, that Kya was speaking to him. It wasn’t unusual for his mind to wander even in the middle of conversation, a bad habit he had fought most of his life to overcome. His mother’s deeply held belief to the contrary, he wasn’t being rude or disinterested, just easily distracted by the scattered pieces of the latest scientific puzzle on which he was working.
Kya said she understood, but Darius didn’t believe her, especially when it was their future she was talking about. So he forced his mind from the distracting puzzle and focused instead on the tail end of her current statement:
“…But how are we going to break it to your mother?”
Darius blinked.
“Well,” he said, feigning deep thought.
He cleared his throat.
“My mother,” he began, speaking slowly while his mind raced. He was a scientist. He should be able to work this out. But, of course, Kya was also a scientist, a mathematician trained in the logic of numbers, and she could also work it out.
“You were doing it again, weren’t you?” she said.
“No,” he insisted with a dismissive gesture that could not have come off any phonier before he instantly deflated and admitted his crime. “Yes. Sorry, Kya.”
Darius knew the only reason she responded with such outward calm was because they were in public, sharing a bench and lunch on the Academy campus.
“I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to spend any time with me without your mind wandering off,” she said, her tone more hurt than angry. “If I’m that boring…”
“No,” he said, this time with genuine insistence. “You’re the most interesting female—the most interesting chimp—I’ve ever met, Kya. Really, it isn’t you. Don’t you ever drift off into limbo when you’re working on one of your problems? Just, go away to a place in your head where your numbers are all that there are, where you have absolute mastery over them until every last piece of the puzzle fits together?”
Kya stared at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. “No,” she said. “I mean, I’ve had moments of… I suppose you could call it clarity, and even flashes of inspiration. But nothing like what you’re saying.”
But then she smiled—a little sadly, he thought—and took his hand. “You know what? I think I’m a bit jealous.”
“Of me?”
She tapped at his forehead with a finger. “Of this. Of what’s inside it.”
“What’s wrong with the outside?”
She paused while she studied his face before saying, “There’s not enough time to go through the whole list.”
Darius gave her a dirty look, but then she leaned forward and pressed her muzzle against his and they broke out in giggles like two little ones.
As they gathered
up the remains of their lunches, Kya asked, “So what universe were you deconstructing that took you away from me this time?”
“Oh,” he said. Darius hadn’t told anyone about his discovery by the corn field. The instant he saw what he had as he started to dig the silver object from the surrounding dirt, he knew it was dangerous. Digging it up and bringing it back to the city, where he was attempting in every spare moment he could find to discover what it was and how it worked, was a death sentence. For him and for anyone who knew his secret.
“What aren’t you telling me, Darius?”
“It’s nothing, Kya. It’s that irrigation system I’m designing that’s been giving me some problems.”
“You told you finished that two weeks ago, more than a month ahead of schedule.”
“I did?”
“Darius!”
“I… I really shouldn’t…”
“What could you possibly be involved in that you can’t talk to me about?”
There was no good answer.
“Please, Kya, can’t you just trust me?”
And the worst answer of all was the truth.
“Not if you can’t trust me,” she said.
But what choice did he have?
* * *
“I knew as soon as I saw it that it wasn’t anything made by ape hands,” Darius said, once they were alone in the corner of the workshop he called his own. His area was neat and orderly, with the top clear of everything except the plans for the irrigation system he was supposed to still be working on.
The young chimp spoke softly as he crouched to extract the object of his words, wrapped in a rough hemp sack, from the dark back corner of the shelf under his bench. It measured eighteen inches high by eleven inches wide by four inches deep and was surprisingly light for its size.
“The metal it’s made from, the manufacturing techniques, and especially its contents, are all so far beyond what our science is capable of producing, it might as well be from another world.”
Kya’s eyes shifted nervously from Darius to the package he was laying carefully on the bench. “You don’t really believe it’s an… an alien object, do you?”
Darius shrugged. “Even after examining it and its components, I don’t know what to believe. A metal object that’s been buried in damp soil for an indeterminate amount of time should show some signs of rust or deterioration, but except for some dents on its face, it’s as bright and shiny as polished silver, except for a symbol of some sort stenciled onto it. It’s badly faded, but study with a magnifying glass shows what appears to be once-white symbols or possibly letters against a blue background: A N S A.”
Kya nodded, breathless, speechless, and frightened.
“And these,” he said, starting to forget his own fear and feeling the excitement of being able to share this miraculous discovery, “these are clasps. See?” He depressed the two small silver tabs set into the bottom of the case. With a soft click, the case popped open, hinged like a clamshell along its short top end.
“Such precision,” he said with undisguised admiration. “The seam between the two halves is invisible when closed. And look at how thin the shell is, but so strong. It reminds me of aluminum, but aluminum’s strength and rigidity isn’t one hundredth of this. It may be an alloy. I’ll need to run some tests, though, to see if I can duplicate it.” He paused and squinted. “I’ll need a heat source.” As if also suddenly recalling that he wasn’t alone, Darius jerked his eyes in her direction and said, “Where’s the nearest foundry? Or kiln? A kiln would work.”
In spite of her discomfort over the object of Darius’ monologue, Kya had to smile. “If this is what it’s like inside that head of yours, maybe I should be glad you don’t share it with me.”
Darius caught himself. “Right. I’m sorry. And this isn’t even the most interesting part.” He opened the lid the rest of the way until the two sides lay flat on the bench. Both halves of the case were lined with a dull, white substance that appeared to be made of densely compacted particles of some sort. Shapes had been carved into the substance into which the case’s contents were fitted. Several of the shapes were empty, but other objects remained, though the only thing Kya could positively identify was a hammer. The rest of them were mysteries.
He reached in and plucked a shiny black oblong box from where it rested in its specially hollowed-out shape, next to an identical but empty shape. On its face were two shiny silver circles, some buttons, and a metal rod stuck out of one end. “There are two of these, but I had to take the other one apart to examine it.”
“What is it?”
Darius laughed in delight. “I have no idea, but it’s also made from a substance for which I can’t find a precedent in any text, and it’s filled with… with… things! Hard little bugs of this and that… there’s pure silicon involved, and wires, copper it seems, and designs almost too fine to be seen with the naked eye, etched into tiny little boards. And a source of some kind of energy. Well, at least I think that’s what it is, but it’s long depleted. But when I touch a static charge to the wires from the power source, it lights up… and talks!”
Kya stepped back with a gasp.
“Okay, maybe not exactly talks, but it makes a noise, a crackling sound. Like… like… remember that time we were caught out in the fields by that storm, and as we ran towards the city gates, there was that strange ball of blue lightning we saw dancing up and down the guard tower? The guard said it didn’t hurt, just made his hair stand on end, but it also made that sound, almost like fat sizzling in a hot skillet.”
“I remember,” she said.
“They did come in a pair. Maybe it’s a signaling device of some sort?” He rubbed his chin. “However, there are also two of these,” he said, pointing to the twin black rectangular boxes set into the white substance above the talking boxes. They were made of the same substance, but almost half their faces had been cut out to show white gauges marked with a series of symbols. “The static charge causes lights to flash and a needle to twitch. And with all these metal antennae sticking from them? It could be a medical device. Very puzzling, but I haven’t had time to really examine it yet.”
Kya touched one of the empty shapes. “That looks like a weapon.”
“Yes, I think it was. A handgun, I believe. But even forgetting that the science and technology here are beyond anything we’re capable of, take a look at the size of all these objects. None of them are designed for ape hands. The shapes and proportions are all wrong, the buttons too small and closely spaced. The handgun, for instance. From the cut-out, I can tell that even I would barely have been able to fit my finger in the trigger guard. A gorilla could hide two of those weapons in his fist.”
“But… if this isn’t the work of apes, who did make them?” Kya said.
“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” he said.
“I already think that.”
“But I’ve made measurements, done the calculations.”
“I’m sure, Darius. You’re very thorough. Please, don’t worry what I’ll think. Just tell me, my love, scientist to scientist.”
“To scientist,” said a third voice from behind them.
Darius shrieked in surprise and whirled, eyes wide with fear at the thought that he had put Kya in harm’s way by sharing with her, against his better judgment, his secret.
“Well? Come on, my monkey!” the voice said, the speaker stepping into view, a big smile on his face. “The suspense is killing me.”
“Sidd,” Kya cried.
Darius’ knees went weak.
“You almost gave me a heart attack, you dumb ape,” Darius said.
“No doubt,” Sidd said. “You want to talk heresy, you should lock the door. I passed Doctor Hiatt in the corridor on my way in. If he’d seen or heard what I just did, it would have been all over for you chimps.”
“I’m an idiot,” Darius said. His hands were still shaking.
“Naw, you’re a genius, just like me.”
; Sidd was grinning as he said it, but that didn’t diminish the fact that his claim was true. Fortunately, he was also Darius’ best friend.
“I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me,” Sidd said, pushing past him to get a closer look at the case.
“I didn’t want to get you guys in trouble if I was caught.”
“Since when have I ever worried about getting caught?” Sidd leaned down, peering at each piece in the case in turn.
“Human, right?” he said without looking up.
“That’s what it looks like,” Darius said.
Sidd lifted the lid off the bench top and examined the faded white symbols on its face. It took him a moment to piece it together, but when he did, his expression of shock was, Darius thought, exquisite.
“You don’t think…?” he said in a soft tone of awe.
Darius nodded, enjoying the moment in spite of the danger he would unleash with the next word he spoke: “Taylor.”
* * *
Darius tried very hard not to fidget on the small, hard stool that Doctor Hiatt offered junior visitors on their rare audiences in the venerable professor’s inner sanctum. This was the young engineer’s first time in this dark and dusty place, with its endless shelves and stacks of books and scrolls, every surface covered with papers and plans and scientific instruments, a vast storehouse of accumulated ape knowledge. It belonged to the Academy, but its stewards were the scientist-philosophers who had headed that institution, legendary orangutans with names like Krysa, Bysin, Tartus, Zaius. And Hiatt.
Stooped and frail with age under his heavy robes, Doctor Hiatt paced relentlessly, weaving his way flawlessly around the dingy cave of a room and the precarious scholarly stacks with unerring accuracy, even with his snout buried in Darius’ irrigation system proposal. He had expected that what was, but for one detail, a proposal for an otherwise routine project would attract attention from higher up, but he thought he would have to deal with some assistant administrator of public works, not Doctor Hiatt himself.
