by Will Self
‘Just like a chimpanzee group,’ Hamble flagged Simon down.
“‘Huuu”? Well, yes, I suppose so, just like a chimpanzee group. But I was thinking of the human mind – do you find that absurd “huu”?’
Hamble maintained his playful expression and turned to Busner who was gingerly picking his way across the muddy yard on some-threes, his briefcase tucked under one arm. The two senior males met and presented to one another in the cursory fashion of old – but not close – allies. “HoooH’Gra,” Busner pant-hooted and Hamble echoed him, then signed, ‘Well, well, Zack Busner, you look in good shape. I haven’t felt you in … how long is it “huuu”?’
‘It must be a couple of years, Raymond,’ Busner countersigned, ‘since we went on that disastrous pub crawl together with McElvoy, after his lecture at the Royal Society “grnnn”.’
‘Disastrous,’ Hamble fleetly fingered, ‘only because of the poor Tourettic you had with you. It was his inappropriate vocalising – if you recall – that got us into that fight. Honestly, Zack – all of that pant-screaming.’
‘Well, Raymond, that’s what they do – Tourettics – pant-scream inappropriately. But anyway,’ Busner continued, gently dabbing the thick fur in Hamble’s groin, ‘we’re “chup-chupp” in touch now and that’s all that matters “huuu”?’
Hamble bared his canines and let out a loud tooth-clacking chuckle. ‘ “Clak-clak-clak” well, Zack, you’ve certainly made your point. Now, if I’m not entirely misdirected, my hump is that Simon here might benefit from some fissioning as far as your party is concerned. Why don’t you leave us to gesticulate alone and take a knuckle-walk “huuu”? It’s shaping up to be a beautiful afternoon.’
Busner took these signs in the manner they were posted. Why not? he thought. Hamble is as kind-hearted as any chimpanzee, and his eccentricity may make it far easier for him to reach out to Simon. Busner broke off the intromissive grooming and got upright. ‘Which way should I scuttle, Raymond, over there “huuu”?’
‘Yes, that’s as good a way as any, you can get down to the river, but watch out for the bottom paddock, the farmer keeps dogs there and they can be frisky.’
Busner bestowed a sloppy kiss on Simon’s muzzle and commended him to Hamble’s care, along with his briefcase. The last the two remaining chimps saw of the eminent natural philosopher – as he liked to style himself – was his prominent perineum, like a pink-and-yellow flower, appearing first here and then there between the rows of hardy perennials at the bottom of the garden.
Hamble grunted, took Simon by the hand and led him inside the house.
The next couple of hours were the most stimulating, engaged, and embodied Simon had spent since his breakdown; and also the most disconcerting. Busner’s estimation of Hamble’s influence was correct in one sense, because the naturalist’s knowledge of all things connected to anthropology was so playfully tweaked and caressed that Simon found himself finangled by the foreplay into more acceptance of his chimpunity than heretofore.
But at the same time Hamble’s obvious eccentricity, his peculiar house and his decidedly chimp behaviour enhanced Simon’s sense of his receding humanity. There was that – and there was the fact that before his breakdown Simon had read Hamble’s books and retained a mental picture of the chimp as a man, of his seeming sideburns as real whiskers. Hamble didn’t help matters by encouraging Simon to smoke a joint.
But that came later. First they entered the Set, which is what Hamble denoted his house. This was blazoned by the bas-relief of a vixen suckling its young which formed the lintel of the old, oaken door; by the curving corridor, carpeted in an earthen colour that led from it; and by the further curving corridors that branched from this, each one ending in another burrow-like room. On their way down the main corridor they encountered three of Hamble’s large brood of infants, and both adult males stopped to tickle them and applaud their playful displays.
Besides the infants, knuckle-walking around the Set was difficult. Everywhere Simon placed his feet or hands there was another thing. The Set was heavy on things – full of them in fact. There were animal skeletons, stuffed birds, chimpanzee skulls and collections of butterflies, either hanging on the sagging walls or stacked against them. There were shelves groaning with tomes of all sorts, and a bewildering variety of tables and chairs. Some of these surfaces also suppported smaller collections of sea shells and crustacea, dried flowers and plants, rock samples and semiprecious stones, all arranged with amazing precision. Any remaining wall space was filled with water-colours of flora and fauna, pen-and-ink drawings of the same, African tribal masks, and the Hamble infants’ clumsy poster-paint daubs.
Not only were there the daubs, there were also the infants themselves, and their toys: lead and plastic soldiers, doll’s-house furniture, Lego bricks, model trains, teddy bears – and, naturally, some stuffed humans – all arranged with the same lavish attention as the adult artefacts, and mingled with them so as to make the most peculiar palimpsest of reification.
Hamble moved about this domestic museum with utter assurance, and after squatting Simon in a comfortable leather armchair and commencing gesticulation, it became clear to him that there was an internal order supplied to this intermural moraine, an order supplied by Hamble himself.
In the squatting-room-cum-study, with its small windows set high in the walls and its cheerfully crackling fire, the jumble was overwhelming. Hamble, as he fingered, would from time to time leap and pluck up an object or a book to illustrate his remarks. He always, Simon was amazed to see, selected the right thing, whether it was in front of, or behind him. This extreme extroception, Simon knew, was not unusual for a chimpanzee, but more peculiar was the way it was expressed by the arrangement of artefacts. It was as if they were an analogue or simulacrum of the contents of his own mind. After only a few minutes of flicking, Simon had the sensation that he was signing with the big chimp inside Hamble’s own – admittedly capacious – head.
“Gru-unnn,” the naturalist happily vocalised as soon as they were squatted, then signed, ‘In answer to your question, Mr Dykes –’
‘Please,’ Simon flagged him down, ‘denote me Simon.’
‘Simon then. Well, while in no way wishing to lend my support to the activities of extremist animal rights campaigners “euch-euch”, I have a more inclusive view of the nature of consciousness than most of the scientific community. Drink “huuu”?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘Beer, wine, something stronger “huuu”?’
‘Beer would be fine “grnn”.’
Hamble bounced up, reached hands behind his head and without looking took a bottle from the drinks tray, uncapped it, poured out a glass of beer, then passed the full glass to Simon without spilling a drop, while continuing to footle on the subject. ‘Even though he wrote at the beginning of the century, and had more than a fondness for morphine, I think Eugène Marais’ delineation of mind is still worth manipulating. You’ve read, I suppose, his Soul oj the Human “huuu”?’
‘I’m afraid not, Dr Hamble.’
‘Please, denote me Raymond. Well “grnn”, it was Marais who first made the distinction between individual and phyletic memory in animal minds. His theory was that the ratio between the two determines the degree of consciousness, sentience, what you will. He might have agreed with’ – and here the naturalist lunged unerringly for a book, opened it, and passed it to Simon while continuing – ‘Linnaeus himself who maintained,
Simon knew better than to express irritation at this representation of reading he had already done. Instead, he got down off his chair, crawled across the room and presented low, whilst gesturing, ‘Please “HoooGrnn”, Dr Hambl
e, Raymond, I revere your books and despite our short acquaintance find your anal scrag most affecting … I am familiar already with most of the historical literature concerning the primatoids, and in particular the human. Everything I learn merely increases my “HoooGrnn” sense of the world having been subject to a complete reversal – human for chimpanzee, chimpanzee for human.’
Seeing that Hamble was still holding out a hand to him, Simon continued signing as he backed to his chair. ‘What I’m intrigued by, and what I think will help me most with my “euch-euch” bizarre impression that I am “hooo” human, is information about wild humans. I couldn’t see myself in the humans at the zoo at all. I’m missing one of my infants, you see – and wonder if he may be with wild humans …’ And with this distinctly strange revelation Simon Dykes’s fingers fell still.
It was an idea the former artist had been harbouring for some time. While the unorthodox therapy Busner was applying to him had been effective to this extent – Simon’s impressions of his own chimpunity becoming less problematic, as he adapted his unfamiliar body to the world – still the former artist was plagued by incontinent nostalgia. Memories of his own very human sexuality, of Sarah’s body, and dragging behind these images of Simon junior, his infant, clear and irrefutable. In this arsy-versy world he found himself in, Simon battened on to this one fact, that he had three infants. If he could locate the missing infant then perhaps that would act as a rip cord, opening a parachute that would then deposit him safely back in a smooth, hairless world.
Hamble’s eyebrow ridges creased when he saw this. Busner had outlined Dykes’s condition when he ‘phoned to make the appointment. Hamble had expected the partial atrophy of the chimp’s limbs, and the amazing coherence and insistence on alienation from chimpunity, but this was something else. He steepled his fingers, then flicked, ‘As you wish, Simon. Well “gru-nnn”, it’s true that I’ve encountered humans in the wild. ’ Again he reached unerringly for some illustrative material, this time an unmistakably human skull. This he passed to Simon, who cradled it throughout what followed. ‘And as you correctly surmise they are considerably different to those in captivity. But let me mark out a quid pro quo, I’ll show you about my encounter with wild humans – and in return you show me something of your understanding of humanity. What I would most like “grnnn” to know is more about human sexuality “huu”?’
This touched Simon’s painful core of recollection, and despite paying close attention to what Hamble signed next, he remained haunted by a bare expanse of fleshly imaginings.
‘I have,’ Hamble let his fingers do the walking, ‘been in the Congo for six months of the past year, and while not ostensibly researching wild humanity, I did “gru-nnn” encounter them. I was out ranging with some of the local bonobos. We weren’t actually in the heart of the equatorial forest, rather on the “h’hooo” fringes, with sparse tree cover. Some of the bonobos were brachiating ahead, but I found it easier to knuckle-walk. We came down into a broad, shallow river valley and saw on the opposite ridge a vast patrol of the creatures “hooo”.’
‘It was frightening then “huuu”?’ Simon flagged down.
‘ “Wraaa”! Absolutely, there were well over a hundred of them, thronging in the trees like ghosts or zombies. That’s the reason they’re so feared by the indigenes; the humans always patrol in large numbers and if they find an isolated group of bonobos they can overpower them through sheer weight of numbers.
‘Anyway “grnnn” on this occasion our patrol came to a halt and formed a tight huddle, waiting to see what the humans would do. Even at this range – and we must have been five hundred and eighty-three metres away – we could distinctly hear them gesticulating with their odd, low-pitched vocalisations, and even making crude signs. It must have been their night nesting site, because we could make out some of their crude shelters among the trees –’
‘They construct shelters “huuu”?’
‘Indeed they do “grnnn”. Your wild human suffers from agoraphobia and cannot bear to be entirely unconfined. Anyway, after a while the human patrol reached some sort of consensus. I could see a large, alpha-type male – frightening specimen with a great mane of head fur – indicating that they should split into two groups, and execute a pincer movement encircling me and the bonobos. What about the river “huuu”? Well, the harsh truth is that humans have absolutely no fear of water – some can even swim! So you can imagine how “hooo” frightened we were.’
Simon wasn’t concentrating too well on Hamble’s conducting, his eyes were turned in on his own, infernal shadowplay. There were also the distracting pant-hoots of the Hamble infants coming from the recesses of the house, pant-hoots that insistently reminded Simon of his own infants. But now, seeing that Hamble had fallen motionless, Simon snapped a stock sign. ‘What did you do “huuu”?’
‘Well, we all advanced down towards the river waa-barking and pant-hooting for all we were worth. A couple of the bonobos had guns with them – incredibly old-fashioned pieces, virtual blunderbusses – but they primed and discharged them, over and over and over. This had the “grnnn” desired effect and the human patrol retreated – as did our own. It was something in the manner of a Mexican stand-off.’
“H’huuu?” Simon jerked himself upright on his armchair and into attention. ‘Do you mean to sign, Raymond, that you consider wild humans to have manifest consciousness “huuu”?’
‘Of some kind – certainly, although not what these maverick anthropologists ascribe to them.’
‘Meaning “huuu”?’
‘Meaning, that if you take these films that chimps like Savage-Rimbaud have made of captive humans being taught signing and slow them down, you can see that the humans are in fact gesturing millimetrically after their chimp instructors. In other signs, they’re clever enough to pick up on what’s being signed and countersign using it, without necessarily being able to manipulate “grnnn”. The point being, as Stephen Jay Gould has remarked, that it’s uninteresting teaching any animal to behave like another one; and by the same token, human intelligence is by definition what humans naturally do “huuu”?’
While conducting this dissertation Hamble had footed a bag of grass from an inside pocket of his camouflage jacket. He now flipped it in the air, caught it, waggled it and waved, ‘How about a smoke “huuu”? From what old Zack signed you’re no stranger to crossing the herbaceous border. ’ His playful grin stretched his broad lip across his canescent muzzle.
‘I don’t know “hooo” …’
‘Come on, chuck me a Bactrian and I’ll roll one, while you mark out for me something of human sexuality. You know, of course, that in the anthropological community interspecific sex is a common – if unremarked on phenomenon “huu”?’
‘Are you serious “huuu”?’
Hamble deftly caught the Bactrian with one hand, whilst continuing with the other. ‘Absolutely. It was suspected – although never confirmed – that Dian Fossey, the female Louis Leakey, sent to study the Rwandan mountain gorillas, had an “euch-euch” affair – if you can ascript it that – with a young male gorilla denoted “clak-clak-clak” Digit. Most suitable “huu”? It was after “huh-huh” Digit was killed by poachers that Fossey went humanshit and embarked on the anti-poaching campaign that led to her death. Either that, or the local bonobos had something of an aversion to the idea of a chimp mating a gorilla.
‘And “grnnn” that chimp Aspinall is another example.’
‘Aspinall “huu” the casino chimp?’
‘That’s the one. Well, as you probably know “grnnn” he has a zoo in Kent where he allows his keepers to have a rather more “chup-chupp” proximate relationship with the animals than is usually the case. Aspinall has often intimated that he “grnnn” enjoys a very close relationship with his gorillas. Perhaps that’s why one recently ripped an arm off its keeper – it was just looking for a “clak-clak” cuddle!’ A lighter had appeared in Hamble’s foot and he lit the fat joint he had rolled with a flourish,
then squatted back down in his chair wuffling with enjoyment.
A gush of smoke spilled from his slack mouth, the blue hooks and curlicues airily entwining with the naturalist’s flocculent chest. His signing was partially obscured by this local thunderhead, so that Simon only caught flicks of what followed. ‘But you must satisfy my curiosity, Simon, “huuu” you say that you have experience of a reality in which humans are the dominant primate species. A reality much the same as this at the, as it were, macro level, with industrialisation, the Japanese television game shows and “euch-euch” – this stuff tickles – hydroponic skunk; but at the micro level, the level of physicality, of sexuality, everything is different, mating practices and so forth “huuu”?’
There was signlence and novocal for a while; Hamble footed Simon the joint, and without considering what he was doing, Simon footed it from him. It was his first non-anxiolytic drug since his breakdown, and it was also the first time he had used feet-for-hands. Simon raised his leg to his muzzle, marvelling at its suppleness, its accuracy of movement and position. He took a great pull on the joint and honked up the distinctive flowery aroma of the weed. The first hit was so delicious that he took another, then another, exhaling and inhaling simultaneously like a saxophonist playing an extended riff.
‘What’s it like “huuu”?’ Simon’s signing was loose and expressive, the hallucinogen was doing its work. ‘Well, Raymond, we mate – as you know – muzzling one another. And our skins have a gorgeous softness and silkiness to the touch. There’s not a lot of touching in our world, so mating is our opportunity to feel one another all over. I’ve seen chimps “euch-euch” mating, and in comparison to human mating it seems a frenzied, unsatisfying experience. Our mating can last for ages and involves the most tender “gru-unnn” and orchestrated of palping “chup-chupp”, prodding “chup-chupp”, caressing “huh-huh-huh” and stroking –’
