Michael Crichton - Congo

“So you say,” the orderly said. Elliot did not bother to explain that he hadn’t said it; she had.

After the blood samples were drawn, the orderly relaxed a little. Packing up, he said, “Certainly is an ugly brute.”

“You’ve hurt her feelings,” Elliot said.

And, indeed, Amy was signing vigorously, What ugly? “Nothing, Amy,” Elliot said. “He’s just never seen a gorilla before.”

The orderly said, “I beg your pardon?”

“You’ve hurt her feelings. You’d better apologize.”

The orderly snapped his medical case shut. He stared at Elliot and then at Amy. “Apologize to him?”

“Her,” Elliot said. “Yes. How would you like to be told you’re ugly?”

Elliot felt strongly about this. Over the years, he had come to feel acutely the prejudices that human beings showed toward apes, considering chimpanzees to be cute children, orangs to be wise old men, and gorillas to be hulking, dangerous brutes. They were wrong in every case.

Each of these animals was unique, and did not fit the human stereotypes at all. Chimps, for example, were much more callous than gorillas ever were. Because chimps were extroverts, an angry chimp was far more dangerous than an angry gorilla; at the zoo, Elliot would watch in amazement as human mothers pushed their children closer to look at the chimps, but recoiled protectively at the sight of the gorillas. These mothers obviously did not know that wild chimpanzees caught and ate human infants-something gorillas never did.

Elliot had witnessed repeatedly the human prejudice against gorillas, and had come to recognize its effect on Amy. Amy could not help the fact that she was huge and black and heavy-browed and squash-faced. Behind the face people considered so repulsive was an intelligent and sensitive consciousness, sympathetic to the people around her, It pained her when people ran away, or screamed in fear, or made cruel remarks.

The orderly frowned. “You mean that he understands English?”

“Yes, she does.” The gender change was something else

Elliot didn’t like. People who were afraid of Amy always assumed she was male.

The orderly shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”

“Amy, show the man to the door.”

Amy lumbered over to the door and opened it for the orderly, whose eyes widened as he left. Amy closed the door behind him.

Silly human man, Amy signed.

“Never mind,” Elliot said. “Come, Peter tickle Amy.” And for the next fifteen minutes, he tickled her as she rolled on the floor and grunted in deep satisfaction. Elliot never noticed the door open behind him, never noticed the shadow falling across the floor, until it was too late and he turned his head to look up and saw the dark cylinder swing down, and his head erupted with blinding white pain and everything went black.

HE AWOKE TO A PIERCING ELECTRONIC SHRIEK.

“Don’t move, sir,” a voice said.

Elliot opened his eyes and stared into a bright light shining down on him. He was still lying on his back in the aircraft; someone was bent over him.

“Look to the right… now to the left… Can you flex your fingers?”

He followed the instructions. The light was taken away and he saw a black man in a white suit crouched beside him. The man touched Elliot’s head; his fingers came away red with blood. “Nothing to be alarmed about,” the man said; “it’s quite superficial.” He looked off. “How long would you estimate he was unconscious?”

“Couple of minutes, no more,” Munro said.

The high-pitched squeal came again. He saw Ross moving around the passenger section, wearing a shoulder pack, and holding a wand in front of her. There was another squeal. “Damn,” she said, and plucked something from the molding around the window. “That’s five. They really did a job.”

Munro looked down at Elliot. “How do you feel?” he asked.

“He should be put under observation for twenty-four hours,” the black man said. “Just as a precaution.”

“Twenty-four hours!” Ross said, moving around the compartment.

Elliot said, “Where is she?”

“They took her,” Munro said. “They opened the rear door, inflated the pneumatic slide, and were gone before anyone realized what happened. We found this next to you.”

Munro gave him a small glass vial with Japanese markings. The sides of the vial were scratched and scored; at one end was a rubber plunger, at the other end a broken needle.

Elliot sat up.

“Easy there,” the doctor said.

“I feel fine,” Elliot said, although his head was throbbing. He turned the vial over in his hand. “There was frost on it when you found it?”

Munro nodded. “Very cold.”

“CO 2,” Elliot said. It was a dart from a gas gun. He shook his head. “They broke the needle off in her.” He could imagine Amy’s screams of outrage. She was unaccustomed to anything but the tenderest treatment. Perhaps that was one of the shortcomings of his work with her; he had not prepared her well enough for the real world. He sniffed the vial, smelled a pungent odor. “Lobaxin. Fast-acting soporific, onset within fifteen seconds. It’s what they’d use.” Elliot was angry. Lobaxin was not often used on animals because it caused liver damage. And they had broken the needle- He got to his feet and leaned on Munro, who put his arm

around him. The doctor protested.

“I’m fine,” Elliot said.

Across the room, there was another squeal, this one loud and prolonged. Ross was moving her wand over the medicine cabinet, past the bottles of pills and supplies. The sound seemed to embarrass her; quickly she moved away, shutting the cabinet.

She crossed the passenger compartment, and a squeal was heard again. Ross removed a small black device from the underside of one seat. “Look at this. They must have brought an extra person just to plant the bugs. It’ll take hours to sterilize the plane. We can’t wait~”

She went immediately to the computer console and began typing.

Elliot said, “Where are they now? The consortium?”

“The main party left from Kubala airport outside Nairobi six hours ago,” Munro said.

“Then they didn’t take Amy with them.”

“Of course they didn’t take her,” Ross said, sounding annoyed. “They’ve got no use for her.”

“Have they killed her?” Elliot asked.

“Maybe,” Munro said quietly.

“Oh, Jesus ..

“But I doubt it,” Munro continued. “They don’t want any publicity, and Amy’s famous-as famous in some circles as an ambassador or a head of state. She’s a talking gorilla, and there aren’t many of those. She’s been on television news, she’s had her picture in the newspapers… They’d kill you before they killed her.”

“Just so they don’t kill her,” Elliot said.

“They won’t,” Ross said, with finality. “The consortium isn’t interested in Amy. They don’t even know why we brought her. They’re just trying to blow our timeline-but they won’t succeed.”

Something in her tone suggested that she planned to leave Amy behind. The idea appalled Elliot. “We’ve got to get her back,” he said. “Amy is my responsibility, I can’t possibly abandon her here-”

“Seventy-two minutes,” Ross said, pointing to the screen. “We have exactly one hour and twelve minutes before we blow the timeline.” She turned to Munro. “And we have to switch over to the second contingency.”

“Fine,” Munro said. “I’ll get the men working on it.”

“In a new plane,” Ross said. “We can’t take this one, it’s contaminated.” She was punching in call letters to the computer console, her fingers clicking on the keys. “We’ll take it straight to point M,” Ross said. “Okay?”