Judith Merril - The Year's Greatest Science Fiction & Fantasy 6

J. G. had already realized that the Explorer and his companions used a language that was different from his own. He had tried to communicate with them, but they neither answered nor, in fact, seemed to notice his questions; so, when a very Old Man finally came limping down the passageway, J. G. listened attentively to the loud, angry things the Explorer said to the Old Man and made a note of the exact words he used. A retentive and accurate memory is one of the few advantages of having a small and unconvoluted brain.

Later the Old Man returned alone with some bananas and plantain leaves and dropped them through the bars into J. G.’s cabin.

J. G. addressed the Old Man, using the exact words he had heard the Explorer use.

The Old Man dropped the box he was carrying and glared at J. G. “The same to you!” he shouted.

J. G. said, “The same to you!”

“Oh yeh?” said the Old Man.

“Oh yeh?” said J. G.

“Humphf!” said the Old Man.

“Humphf!” said J. G.

The Old Man glared at him again and started to leave. Then he turned and scratched his head. “God amighty,” he said. “A talkin’ ape.”

“God amighty,” J. G. said. “A talkin’ ape.”

The Old Man studied him, open-mouthed, for a while and then cleared his throat and said, “Hello.”

J. G. cleared his throat and said. “Hello.”

The Old Man then carefully pointed to J. G. and said, “You.”

J. G. pointed himself and said, “You.”

“No, no,” the Old Man said, shaking his head. He pointed to himself and said, “Me,” and to J. G. again and said, “You.”

J. G. understood. He pointed to himself and said, “Me,” and to the Old Man and said, “You.”

The Old Man broke into a long cackling laugh. He taught J. G. a few more words and then limped back on deck. From then on, whenever he brought J. G. food, he taught him more words.

J. G. saw immediately that the construction and grammar of this new language were similar to that used by the Silver Gorillas. By the end of the week, he had enough vocabulary to carry on limited conversations with the Old Man; and when, a few days later, the Explorer came to his cabin, he was able to thank him for his kindness and assistance in helping him in his search for his beautiful wife, Lotus.

When the Explorer discovered that J. G. could speak, he was extraordinarily pleased. After conversing with him for a half an hour, he announced that he was going to take an interest in J. G.’s education. He assured J. G. that, if he applied himself, the two of them could “clean up.”

During the ensuing days, he showed J. G. how to eat with a knife and fork; taught him to say “Yes sir” and “No sir”; lent him his dictionary; and allowed him to look through his telescope. He also taught him to play Pittsburgh Rummy.

The Explorer seemed to get huge enjoyment out of the games that they played together every evening.

“In spite of the fact that you’re an ugly, murderous beast, I must admit you’re good company,” he would say, dealing himself a card from the bottom of the pack. “I knock with two.”

The Explorer won every game because he cheated. Whenever he won, he would laugh and take a drink of rum and slap J. G. on the back and give him a banana and say what a good sort he was in spite of being a bloodthirsty monster. At one point J. G. had tried to explain that he was herbivorous and never ate meat; but the Explorer was busy arranging the cards under the table so he could deal himself four queens and did not hear.

Of course, J. G. realized all along that the Explorer was dealing the cards in a peculiar fashion and was adding the score up incorrectly (an excellent grasp of arithmetic is another advantage of having a tiny brain); but he reasoned that he was at fault and, being stupid, had failed to understand the rules. He wanted very much to please his new friend; so he noticed carefully the way the Explorer played and began to play that way himself, dealing cards from the bottom, hiding other cards in his fur and adding the score up incorrectly. As he had a Reflex-Reaction-Time of 9.6, he was much better at it than the Explorer and immediately won three games in a row.

When J. G. won the first game, the Explorer scowled and became silent.

When he won the second game, the Explorer said J. G. was an ugly, ignorant brute and failed to add that he was also a good fellow.

When J. G. won the third game, the Explorer stood up, knocked over the table, shouted that he was a cheat and a thief, took his dictionary, gathered up all the bananas, and left, slamming and locking the door.

J. G. did not see the Explorer for the rest of the trip. He didn’t see any more bananas either.

Two days later the ship docked and two Sailors came down to J. G.’s cabin. One of them carried an iron collar with a length of heavy chain attached to it.

“Cap’n says ... we should put this ... uh ... chain on you and bring you on deck,” he said. “Sir,” he added quickly, as J. G. raised his three hundred and fifty-four pounds from the floor.

J. G. was overjoyed to find he had not been abandoned. He said he would be glad to oblige. He took the collar and fitted it around his neck.

The Sailor mopped his brow with his sleeve. “Whatta ya know?” he said.

“It’s like the Cap’n says,” said the other Sailor. “He’s too stupid to make trouble. He’s big outside but he ain’t got no proper brain at all.”

J. G. hung his head in shame and moved sadly out into the companionway.

“Whatta ya know?” said the first Sailor. “Come on, hurry up. Move along,” he shouted all at once. He gave J. G. a shove.

“Snap it up, snap it up,” yelled the other Sailor, hitting J. G. across the back with the free end of the chain.

J. G. swung quickly up the ship’s ladder and came out on deck entirely unprepared for his first view of the Jungle. It was there, just at the other end of a long pier.

It was big. Steel and concrete towers rose in disordered splendor toward the sky. Across the water came the sweaty, sooty, smoggy scent of the Jungle and the screech and scrape, the clatter and clank, the rumble, the rattle, the roar of the Jungle. J. G. was so startled he turned and would have gone back down into the ship; but the Sailors jerked on the chain and pulled him toward the stern, where the Explorer stood savagely chewing on a long black cigar.

J. G. wished that he and the Explorer could be friends again. He smiled broadly and nodded to show that he meant no harm. The Explorer jumped back. “None of that,” he said. “Hold him, Men.” J. G. looked at the deck and felt unhappy.

“I’m going to tell you something for your own good,” said the Explorer. “People out there,” he indicated the Jungle, “won’t be as easy with you as me. You’ll have to get over your bad temper, learn some manners and Keep Your Place.”

J. G. nodded dumbly.

“Treat your Betters with respect. Do what you’re told. Don’t talk back. Be satisfied with what you get, and maybe you’ll get along. That’s How Things Are.”

J. G. thought about this and then asked exactly how were things?

“Don’t talk back!” yelled the Explorer, hurling his cigar to the deck and stamping on it. “Chain him to the stanchion. I’m going ashore.”

The Sailors chained J. G. to the stanchion and left him. He lay on the deck thinking. He wondered if his beautiful wife, Lotus, were somewhere in the Jungle. And if she were would he ever be able to find her? Would he ever be able to get back home himself? He wished he knew How Things Were. After a while he bit through the chain and stood by the rail looking out across the water.

When the Explorer returned to the ship, he was accompanied by Quimble, the Professor. Quimble was a small man with a wrinkled suit and face who wore spectacles attached to his coat by a black ribbon and socks that did not match. He walked around J. G., patted him on the back, smiled at him, felt his head and murmured “Excellent” four times. He then reached a financial agreement with the Explorer and invited J. G. to be his house guest. He extended a banana along with the invitation and J. G. accepted both readily.