Planet of the Apes (8 page)

I was breathless with hope, feeling more and more certain that she was beginning to recognize my noble quality. When she spoke haughtily to one of the gorillas, I was insane enough to hope that my cage was about to be thrown open, with a million apologies. Alas, that was not what happened! The warder fumbled in his pocket and took out a small white object that he handed to his superior. She herself put it in my hand with a charming smile. It was a lump of sugar.

A lump of sugar! I fell from such a height, I suddenly felt so discouraged by the humiliation of this
reward, that I almost flung it back in her face. Just in time I remembered my good resolutions and forced myself to remain calm. I took the sugar, bowed, and munched it with as intelligent an air as possible.

Such was my first encounter with Zira. Zira was the she-ape’s name, as I presently learned. She was the head of the department to which I had been brought. In spite of my disappointment, her manner gave me some hope and I had a feeling that I would manage to enter into communication with her. She had a long conversation with the warders and I fancied she was giving them instructions about me. Then she continued on her rounds, inspecting the other occupants of the cages.

She carefully scrutinized each of the newcomers and made a few notes, more succinct than in my case. She never ventured to touch one of them. Had she done so, I believe I should have been jealous. I was beginning to feel proud of being the exceptional subject who alone deserved privileged treatment. When I saw her stop in front of the children and throw some sugar to them as well, I felt definitely vexed, certainly no less vexed than Nova, who, after baring her teeth at the she-ape, had lain down in fury at the bottom of her cage with her back turned on me.

The second day went by like the first. The apes did not bother about us except to bring us food. I was more and more puzzled about this strange establishment when, on the following day, we were given a series of tests, the memory of which humiliates me even today but which provided some distraction at the time.

The first one struck me at first as rather unusual. One of the warders came up to me while his colleague was working in another cage. My gorilla kept one hand hidden behind his back; in the other he held a whistle. He looked at me to attract my attention, put the whistle to his mouth, and produced a series of shrill blasts: this for a whole minute. Then he held out his other hand, ostentatiously showing
me one of those bananas that I had enjoyed and to which all the men appeared to be partial. He held the fruit out in front of me, without taking his eyes off me.

I stretched out my hand, but the banana was out of reach and the gorilla did not come any closer. He looked disappointed and seemed to be expecting another gesture. After a moment he gave up, hid the fruit away again, and resumed his whistling. I was nervous, intrigued by this play-acting, and I almost lost patience when he once more waved the fruit out of reach. I managed to stay calm, however, trying to guess what was being expected of me, for he looked more and more surprised, as though confronted with behavior that was abnormal. He went through the same motions five or six times, then moved along to another captive.

I had a distinct feeling of frustration when I saw that this captive was given the banana at the very first trial, and so was the next one. I closely watched the other gorilla, who was going through the same ceremony with the row opposite. Since he was now dealing with Nova, I did not miss one of her reactions. He whistled, then brandished the fruit as his colleague had done. Immediately the young girl became excited, moving her jaws and…

All of a sudden I understood. Nova, the gorgeous Nova, had started watering at the mouth at the sight of this titbit, like a dog when it is offered a lump of sugar. That was what the gorilla was waiting for, as
far as this day was concerned. He let her have the desired object and went on to another cage.

I had understood, I tell you, and I was not very proud of it! I had studied biology at one time, and Pavlov’s work held no secrets for me. Here they were, applying to men the very experiments he had carried out on dogs. And I, who had been so stupid a few minutes before, now, with my rational brain and education, not only grasped the nature of this test but also foresaw those that were to follow. For several days, perhaps, the monkeys would operate in this manner: blasts on a whistle, then the offer of a favorite food, the latter causing the subject’s mouth to water. After a certain period it would be the sound of the whistle alone that would produce the effect. The men would have acquired what are known in scientific jargon as conditioned reflexes.

I could not stop congratulating myself on my perspicacity and could hardly wait to put it to good use. As my gorilla walked past me again, having finished his rounds, I tried by every means to attract his attention. I tapped on the bars; I made sweeping gestures, pointing at my mouth, with the result that he condescended to resume the experiment. Then, at the first blast of the whistle, and well before he had waved the fruit, I started watering at the mouth, watering at the mouth in fury, in frenzy—I, Ulysse Mérou, started watering at the mouth as though my very life depended on it, such pleasure did I derive from showing him my intelligence.

As a matter of fact he appeared extremely dismayed, called his colleague over, and had a long talk with him, as on the previous day. I could follow the elementary reasoning of these clodhoppers: here was a man who only a moment before had no reflexes at all and who suddenly has acquired conditioned reflexes, which required a long time and considerable patience in the case of the others! I felt pity for the weakness of their intellect, which prevented them from discerning the only possible cause for this sudden progress: the capacity for thought. I am sure Zira would have been brighter.

Yet my skill and excess of zeal had a very different result from what I had expected. They went away without giving me the fruit, which one of them started munching himself. There was no longer any point in rewarding me, since the desired end had been achieved without it.

They came back the following day with other equipment. One of them was carrying a bell; the other trundled before him a machine that bore a close resemblance to an electric generator. This time, prepared for the kind of experiment to which we were to be subjected, I understood what they planned to do with these instruments even before they were put into action.

They began with Nova’s neighbor, a big strapping fellow with a particularly dull expression who had come up to the edge of his cage and was clutching the bars as we all did nowadays at our jailers’ approach.
One of the gorillas started swinging the bell, which gave out a solemn ring, while the other connected the generator to the bars of the cage. When the bell had sounded for some time, the second operator started turning the handle of the machine. The man leaped backward, uttering a plaintive cry.

They went through this business several times on the same subject, who was coaxed by the offer of some fruit to come back and cling to the bars. The object, I knew, was to make him leap backward at the sound of the bell and before the electric shock (yet another conditioned reflex), but it was not achieved that day, the man’s faculties not being sufficiently developed to enable him to relate cause and effect.

I waited for them, on the other hand, chuckling to myself, eager to show them the difference between instinct and intelligence. At the first sound of the bell I let go of the bars and retreated to the middle of the cage. At the same time I looked at them and gave a mocking smile. The gorillas wrinkled their brows. They no longer laughed at my behavior and for the first time appeared to suspect that I was teasing them.

They had decided nevertheless to do the experiment over a second time, when their attention was diverted by the arrival of some new visitors.

Three figures were coming down the passage: Zira, the female chimpanzee, and two other apes, one of whom was plainly in a high position.

He was an orangutan, the first I had seen on the planet Soror. He was shorter than the gorillas and slightly round-shouldered. His arms were relatively longer so that he often touched the ground with his hands as he walked, which the other apes did only rarely. He thus gave me the odd impression of using a couple of walking sticks. His head adorned with long coarse hair and sunk between his shoulders, his face frozen in an expression of pedantic meditation, he looked like a venerable and solemn old pontiff. He was also dressed quite differently from the others, in a long black frock coat with a red star in the buttonhole
and black-and-white-striped trousers, both somewhat dusty.

He was followed by a little female chimpanzee carrying a heavy brief case. Her attitude suggested that she was his secretary. By this time no one is surprised, I imagine, by my repeated reference to significant attitudes and expressions among these apes. I am convinced that any rational being confronted with this couple would have concluded, as I did, that the one was a learned elder and the other his humble secretary. Their arrival gave me an opportunity of noting again the sense of hierarchy that seemed to exist among the apes. Zira showed every sign of respect for this superior of hers. The two gorillas went forward to meet him as soon as they caught sight of him and bowed low before him. The orangutan gave a condescending little wave of his hand.

They made straight for my cage. Was I not the most interesting subject of the lot? I welcomed the great authority with my most affable smile and addressed him in ringing tones:

“My dear orangutan, how happy I am to find myself at last in the presence of a creature who exhales wisdom and intelligence! I am sure we are going to understand each other, you and I.”

The old dear had given a start at the sound of my voice. He scratched his ear for some time and peered suspiciously into my cage as though scenting some trickery. Zira then addressed him, notebook
in hand, reading out the particulars she had jotted down about me. She did her best, but it was plain to see that the orangutan refused to be convinced. He uttered two or three sentences in a pompous manner, shrugged his shoulders several times, shook his head, then put his hands behind his back and started pacing up and down the corridor, passing and repassing my cage and darting glances in my direction that were far from kindly. The other apes waited for his decision in respectful silence.

In seemingly respectful silence, at least—for their respect appeared far from genuine when I intercepted a furtive sign from one gorilla to the other, the sense of which allowed no room for doubt: they were making fun of the boss behind his back. This, combined with the annoyance I felt at his attitude toward me, inspired me with the idea of putting on a little act designed to convince him of my mental ability. I started pacing to and fro in the cage, imitating his gait, my shoulders hunched, my hands behind my back, my brow wrinkled in an air of profound meditation.

The gorillas choked with laughter and Zira herself was unable to keep a straight face. As for the secretary, she was obliged to plunge her muzzle into her brief case to hide her amusement. I was congratulating myself on my demonstration when I suddenly realized it was dangerous. Noticing my mimicry, the orangutan looked very annoyed and in a dry voice uttered a few sharp words that restored order
immediately. Then he stopped in front of me and started dictating his notes to his secretary.

He went on dictating for a long time, punctuating his phrases with pompous gestures. I was beginning to have enough of his blindness and resolved to give him fresh proof of my capacities. Stretching my arms out toward him, I spoke up to the best of my ability:

“Mi Zaius.”

I had noticed that all the underlings who addressed him began with these two words. Zaius, I subsequently learned, was the pontiff’s name, “mi” an honorific title.

The monkeys were flabbergasted. They no longer wanted to laugh, least of all Zira, who seemed extremely perturbed, especially when I pointed a finger at her and added “Zira,” a name I had also remembered and that could only be hers. As for Zaius, he was completely flustered and started pacing up and down the corridor again, shaking his head with an air of incredulity.

Having finally recovered his composure, he gave orders for me to be subjected in his presence to the tests I had been given the previous day. I acquitted myself well. I watered at the mouth at the first blast of the whistle. I leaped back at the sound of the bell. He made me repeat this last operation a dozen times, dictating countless comments to his secretary.

In the end I had an inspiration. At the moment the gorilla began to ring the bell, I unfastened the
clip that connected the electric wire to my cage and threw the cable outside. Then I held on to the bars and stayed where I was, while the other warder, who had not noticed my trick, struggled to turn the handle of the now harmless generator.

I was very proud of this move, which was bound to be irrefutable proof of wisdom to any rational creature. In fact, Zira’s attitude showed me that she, at least, was extremely impressed. She looked at me with singular intensity and her white muzzle turned pink—which, as I learned later, is a sign of emotion in chimpanzees. But there was nothing I could do to convince the orangutan. This fiendish ape again started shrugging his shoulders nastily and shaking his head energetically when Zira spoke to him. He was a methodical scientist; he refused to listen to such nonsense. He gave further instructions to the gorillas and I was given another test, a combination of the first two.

I knew this one, too. I had seen it practiced on dogs in certain laboratories. The idea was to bewilder the subject, to provoke a mental confusion by combining two reactions. One of the gorillas emitted a series of blasts on his whistle as the promise of a reward, while the other rang the bell that announced a punishment. I recalled the conclusions of a noted biologist concerning a similar experiment: it was possible, he said, by so abusing an animal, to produce in him emotional disorders strangely reminiscent of neurosis in men, and sometimes even to
send him out of his mind by repeating these maneuvers fairly often.