Orphan of Creation

by Roger MacBride Allen

  Ovono stopped talking and looked over his audience. Once again, he forced himself not to smile, but instead looked as sincere, as trusting and wise as he could. They had not expected this! Perhaps they had been expecting a one-time sale, hoping to skin the Americans this once. Maybe they wanted to sell their surplus in one go and be done with it. It didn’t matter. Now they were off-balance, which is the way a good trader wants his counterpart in a deal. Ovono felt tempted to say more, but he knew the dangers of overselling. Let them make the next move.

  He smiled and settled back, politely waiting for their reply. The chief thought for a moment, then gestured for his cronies to lean in toward him and whisper with him. Ovono put the time to good use sizing up his customers, judging what they’d like to buy. The chief seemed to be the only one to worry about. His advisors were nowhere near as important, and seemed divided equally between those who eagerly agreed with everything he said and those who actually tried to give some sort of counsel, which was generally ignored. Ovono had the feeling that the chief’s head had been turned by his power, that the right tack here was to appeal to his vanity. This was the sort of chief who ruled capriciously for a month or a year or two years until the tribe got tired of it and killed him or ousted him. Vain, unreasonably confident that his views were always correct, eager to agree with anything that made him look good. To a good salesman, there was no better prospect.

  After a long discussion in low tones, the locals seemed to come to some sort of agreement. Finally, the chief spoke. “I agree with your proposal. My keeper of the tranka here tells me that he has just the one for you, a young, healthy female of great spirit and intelligence.”

  “Splendid. That will suit our purposes perfectly,” he enthused, having no idea what their purposes were. But at least buying one, a sample, suited his purposes. It let him do limited damage if he was making a mistake, and gave him the chance to consult with the Americans properly before he did any serious dealing. “But we come to the price for such a fine animal. What interests you? Perhaps this sturdy and handsome pair of shoes?” he asked, touching Livingston’s huge boots. No reaction. “A sleeping-mat of great softness and comfort?” he suggested, pointing at the sleeping bag. No apparent interest. “Clever tools?” he ventured, opening the rucksack. “Perhaps some fine and handsome jewelry?” Aha. The chief’s eyes lit up at the mention of jewelry, and his henchmen exchanged worried glances, as if Ovono had touched on a very vulnerable weak spot. With a look of perfect innocence on his face, Ovono dug into the sack, appearing to fumble a bit as he brought out one or two of the lesser tools and the ugliest watch, along with the least interesting rings and trinkets. He would hold back on Barbara’s gold ring until they were weakening, eager to buy. This was going to be almost too easy. Monsieur Ovono smiled his most unctuous smile and zeroed in for the kill.

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  Barbara rubbed her ring finger nervously, trying to make the empty-feeling spot around her finger seem a bit less strange.

  Now she was at the end of her quest, it seemed. The Utaani were agreeable, and would let her get a look at their australopithecines, study them, if for a price. She found herself forced to face the question of what she was going to do with the creatures. Up until now, the quest, the search itself, had served to keep her from introspection. Now the last barriers to finding out were seemingly down, and she finally confronted the question: What would they be like? These were the descendants of animals who had come very close to becoming human, creatures whose evolution had shied back from that possibility. They and their ancestors had almost everything it took to become human—the upright stance, the clever hands. But they had never produced the last and most needed thing—a brain large enough to contain a complete mind. Why had they turned back? Had they found something better?

  Barbara scratched her own head and sighed. That was foolishness. Evolution was directionless, and no creature ever decided whether to evolve into a new form. It simply happened. There was another thought that worried her, frightened and excited her. Humans liked to think of themselves as reasoning and rational, but she knew the “human” part of the brain was but a thin veneer over all the evolutionary past of the brain. Literally just below the uniquely human part of the neocortex were the structures of the mammalian brain, and below that were components which closely resembled the reptilian brain, the amphibian brain, the fish brain, all the way back to structures that harked from the first creature to grow a spinal cord. All the history of the phylum Chordata was etched in her skull and her spinal cord. In a very real sense, wild animals lurked in her skull, in all human skulls, and evolutionary ancestors dead a hundred million years whispered and hissed their reptilian counsel from the core of her brain. She knew from examining skulls what human-like structures were smaller, less developed, or missing altogether in the australopithecine brain. What would a near-human be like, with that thin veneer of humanity stripped away, and the past so much closer to the surface?

  Put it another way: What would humans be like, without that thin layer of brain cells that made them into a completely different kind of animal?

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  Ovono scooped up the pile of trade goods that was settled on as the price, took off his hat, and dumped the things into it. “Then we are settled on the price,” he said as he put the rest of the thing back in the rucksack. “All is agreed. Now I must tell you of a small tradition in the American tribe, where my friends come from. They are willing to let agents do their bargaining, but they often claim the right to perform the exchange themselves, with no middlemen.” It was a reasonable-sounding lie, Ovono thought, but could use some embroidery. “They feel that if the final trade is made face-to-face, buyer and seller will know each other better, and trust each other more. So, I will go and collect my friends, and perhaps you can bring their tranka, and then they can make the trade themselves, eh?”

  The chief said, “Yes, that is fine,” and gestured to the keeper to bring the beast. He seemed distracted, far more interested in the fine new things he would get than in anything else.

  Ovono stood up and bowed politely to the chief before heading off to find his clients. He hadn’t mentioned the real reason for having the Americans do the trade themselves, of course. They could hardly complain about the price he had negotiated if they paid it themselves.

  Even an honest broker knows he must protect himself.

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  They heard a noise in the underbrush, and turned to look down the path in time to see Ovono coming along, all smiles. “Bonjour, mes amis! Allez, allez, vite, vite!” he called out, and urged them to stand and follow him with a gesture of his hand before turning back toward the village himself.

  Rupert scooped up his pack and hurried to catch up. “How did it go?” he asked.

  “Very well, very well,” Ovono said. “Here,” he said, handing Rupert the hatful of trinkets. “Your leader is the woman, no? Then give these to her, and tell her she is to exchange them for the tranka. But hurry, before the locals can debate the agreement!”

  And before you Americans have time to argue with me, either, Ovono thought.

  Rupert dropped back next to Barbara and explained. She looked in the bag. The harmonica, two of the watches, an inexpensive gold-plated chain—part of the jewelry she had brought to Gabon in case they ended up at an Embassy reception or something—Rupert’s Swiss army knife, Livingston’s class ring, and Barbara’s gold wedding ring. “All this just to examine one creature?” she asked Rupert. “We’re going to be bankrupt before we’re done.”

  Rupert upped his pace to keep up with Ovono, who was still hurrying them on. “Well, I guess the locals knew more about trading than Ovono thought. But we can live with it for the moment. Let’s go.

  They hurried along, almost double-timing, with Clark and Livingston bringing up the rear, and soon came to the village clearing.

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  Ovono led them to the fire-pit, where the chief and his men were waiting. Ovono spoke rapidly and quietly to Rupe
rt, and Rupert passed along the instructions to Barbara. “Walk over to the chief, and place each item, one at a time, onto the mat on the ground in front of him. Make a little bit of a ceremony out of it, and make sure everyone can see each thing as you take it out. Do a little dago-dazzling. When you are done, step back and join the rest of us. Don’t kneel, just squat down as little as you can and still put the things on the mat gracefully. Don’t bow to the chief or anything. We trade as equals, and shouldn’t kowtow to this geek. That’s a fairly free translation, but it gets the spirit of what he said.”

  Barbara nodded, and did as she was told, pulling each thing out of the bag and holding it up high to be seen, gesturing grandly to the neatly displayed bric-a-brac when she was done. “What do I do with the hat?” she asked in a stage whisper, still squatting down in front of the chief, hoping she didn’t lose balance and fall down flat on her face.

  Rupert checked with Ovono and relayed the answer. “Throw it into the pot as a sweetener. Sign of good will. Now stand up and come back to us, and make sure you do turn your back on him—it’s a sign of trust, and shows you don’t hold him in any awe.”

  She turned and walked back to her friends, imagining daggers and spears sprouting out of her back with every step. She turned again and watched as the chief made a show of examining the goods, and his cronies made signs of approval, smiling and nodding. The chief gestured to one of his men, who bowed and left the group.

  “Now what?” Rupert asked Ovono in French.

  “Now the Utaani keeper goes to bring the tranka you have purchased. Make a show of examining it and saying how fine it is.”

  Rupert and Clark looked sharply at Ovono. “The tranka we bought?” Clark said. “We only wanted to study them, look at—”

  “What’s going on?” Livingston demanded, alarmed by the rapid French. “What’s wrong?”

  Rupert was about to answer when he chanced to look up. “Oh my God.”

  Barbara followed his glance and drew in her breath.

  The keeper was walking back into camp, dutifully followed by—

  Her eyes could not see it properly at first, trying to force what they saw into pigeonholes where it wouldn’t fit. It walked like a human so it must be human, but it looked like an animal, so it must be an animal, but some tiny gesture was so human-like, its—her—eyes were so expressive and soulful—but the mouth was a muzzle and the nose was barely there . . .

  She blinked, swallowed, and realized she had grabbed onto Livingston’s arm, was holding him so tight it must have hurt, but he didn’t seem to notice. She relaxed her grip and forced herself to look again, to really see what was there.

  It—no, she— was a female, unclothed and hairy, and somehow her nakedness, her vulnerability, seemed greater because of the sparse covering of fur. She was hairier than any adult human male, but the dark, coarse fur didn’t cover her even as thoroughly as a chimp’s would. There was no fur on the black-skinned muzzle of a face, but around her chinless jaw the hair was thick enough to be a sort of beard. She was short and massively built, no more than five feet tall, the muscles on her body standing out like a weightlifter’s. Her breasts could not properly be called by that name, but were so flat and flaccid they were more like a set of teats sagging against the muscular chest. She stood quietly, solidly, her feet set a bit further apart than a human might find comfortable, but she was as thoroughly a biped as Ambrose’s bones had said she would be. There was no grace in her short-legged stance, but no clumsiness either. She belonged on two feet. Her feet were large and splay-footed, the toes wide apart and looking capable of gripping things more effectively than a human’s could. Her arms were nearly as massive as Livingston’s, and the proportions of the arms looked a little odd. Her hands were large, callused things, the nails big, thick, yellowing a bit, and badly chipped at the end—closer to claws than to human fingernails.

  But all that was strange, yet almost acceptable. It could have been the body of a stocky and unfortunate woman with a pituitary problem. Every detail was nearly human, close enough that it didn’t matter. Humans could still have been human with that body.

  It was the face, the head.

  The all-too-human eyes, hazel-colored and solemn, stared at Barbara from below a massive shelf of bone that swept directly back into a low, hairless skull. The forehead, for all practical purposes, was not even there. Perched atop those massive superorbitals were an incongruous pair of bushy black eyebrows that moved and wiggled with the strong facial muscles, just like human eyebrows.

  The front of the head seemed to jut out, and the massive jaw forced the mouth farther forward still. Her nose was a squashed-up thing, the flat, wide nostrils pointed out like a gorilla’s, rather than down like a human’s. The ears were tiny, folded back against the skull—but then they seemed to prick up to listen more closely.

  It was not an ape’s face. It was too erect, too alert, too expressive. In the eyes, in the intent stare and the purposeful set of the head, there was something no chimp had ever had. And that face was staring as intently at the Americans as the Americans were staring at it. The creature’s eyes flicked back and forth from Livingston to Barbara, hesitated a moment longer on the strangely pale white men, Rupert and Clark, and began the inspection again.

  Livingston finally collected himself enough to whisper his question again. “Rupert, was something wrong with the deal? What were you and Ovono arguing about . . .”

  But Livingston saw the answer before he finished asking. The keeper smiled at them, stepped over to the australopithecine, and peeled back her lips to display her front teeth, then urged her jaw open to display the back teeth. The creature flinched away for a moment, grunted and drew back, and the fur on the nape of her neck stood up on end. But then, with a shrug of resignation, she allowed the keeper to do what he would. The keeper finished with her mouth and made the creature hold her arms straight out, and he patted the muscular biceps proudly. He made her turn around so he could show how strong she was. The keeper prattled on as he performed, smiling, telling them what he was doing, but for once, no translation was needed.

  Every black American had a scene like this burned into his memory, into his past, would have recognized this eerie burlesque for what it was in a moment.

  “Congratulations, Barbara,” Livingston said, his voice filled with as much shock as horror. “You’ve just bought yourself a slave.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  She did not understand. She did not understand anything. These were a new kind of people, dressed strangely, colored strangely—they even smelled strange. Somehow she sensed that these new ones were as surprised as she was. Staring at them, she ignored the rude probings and proddings of the keeper and strained to figure it out.

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  “Now what the hell do we do?” Rupert demanded. “Ovono, you bought this creature?”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?” Ovono asked, almost in distraction, staring at the thing standing in front of them. He had never seen such a monster! He could suddenly understand why the surrounding tribes thought these things were imprisoned souls. His Christian God was barely bulwark enough to keep him from thinking the same. He shivered, crossed himself, and forced himself to listen to Rupert’s words.

  “We wanted to look at them, take pictures, that’s all!”

  “But what better way?” Ovono replied, trying to think his way out of this catastrophe. “You own this creature now. You can do with it whatever you like.”

  “Americans don’t buy slaves anymore,” Rupert said harshly.

  “But a slave is a person, a human being! This is an animal!” Ovono protested.

  “An animal these bastards use as a slave! I’m not sinking down to their level!”

  “Quiet.” Clark spoke for the first time, in a low, forceful tone. “Let’s remember these bastards are bastards and that we are in their place. Get them angry, make them think we’re displeased, and we might not walk out of here.” Sure enough, the chief looked rat
her worried already. The men behind him were backing off a bit, shifting their stance, and the two or three gripped the handles of their work knives unconsciously.

  “What’s done is done, Ovono,” he said in French, “and we were too afraid of what you might think to explain ourselves well. It’s a bad situation, but nobody’s fault. Talk to them, lie your way out of this, think up some pleasant reason we’d be fighting.” He shifted from French to English. “Barb, Liv, I don’t like this any better than you do, but we appear to have purchased this young lady by accident. Smile and put a good face on it, or else these creeps might get nasty.” He switched back to French and spoke again to Ovono. “Now, smile, talk to them, and make it convincing.”

  Ovono felt a nervous sweat starting to drip down his face. He ran his tongue around suddenly dry lips. “Excuse our excitement, gentlemen! A slight disagreement over who most properly has first claim over this fine tranka, and the right to escort her back along the path. Surely that right must belong to—to the owner of the most valuable thing paid for it! Yes, of course.” He turned and grabbed Barbara by the arm, and spoke to Rupert in French. “Tell her she must lead the creature off from here, back down the path we came from.” Ovono turned backed toward the Utaani and smiled. “We shall return later today, but my friends are most eager to examine our new prize. We will retire to our camp and come back later for more talk.” Ovono bowed slightly to the chief—proper in an emissary, if not in a principal—and backed away a step or two. “We must leave now,” he said to Clark. “I have told them we have made camp down the path, that we will be there for a time. We must leave calmly and gracefully. And tell Mademoiselle Barbara to do what I said and claim the creature, quickly.”