Planet of the Apes (10 page)

I must now admit that I adapted myself with remarkable ease to the conditions of life in my cage. From the material point of view, I was living in perfect felicity: during the day the apes attended to my every need; at night I shared my litter with one of the loveliest girls in the cosmos. I even grew so accustomed to this situation that for more than a month, without feeling how outlandish or degrading it was, I made no attempt to put an end to it. I learned hardly any new words of the simian language. I did not continue with my attempts to enter into communication with Zira, so that the latter, if she had once had an inkling as to my spiritual nature, had no doubt since yielded to Zaius’ opinion and regarded me as a man of her planet,
that is, an animal: an intelligent animal, perhaps, but by no means an intellectual one.

My superiority over the other prisoners, which I no longer exercised to the point of startling the warders, made me the most brilliant subject in the establishment. This distinction, I am ashamed to admit, sufficed my present ambitions and even filled me with pride. Zoram and Zanam were friendly toward me, taking pleasure in seeing me smile, laugh, and pronounce a few words. Having exhausted all the classic tests with me, they racked their brains to invent other, more subtle ones, and all three of us made merry whenever I discovered the solution to a problem. They never forgot to bring me some titbit, which I always shared with Nova. We were a privileged couple. I was fatuous enough to believe that my mate was aware of all she owed to my talents, and I spent part of my time showing off in front of her.

One day, however, after several weeks, I felt a sort of nausea. Was it the gleam in Nova’s eyes, which had seemed to me that night particularly lacking in expression? Was it the lump of sugar that Zira came to give me that suddenly acquired a bitter taste? The fact is that I was shamed by my cowardly resignation. What would Professor Antelle think of me, if he chanced to be still alive and found me in this state? This thought soon became unbearable, and I forthwith made up my mind to behave like a civilized man.

While stroking Zira’s arm by way of expressing
my thanks, I snatched away her notebook and fountain pen. I braved her gentle remonstrances, sat down on the straw, and started a drawing of Nova. I am a fairly good draftsman and, being inspired by the model, managed to turn out a reasonable likeness, which I then handed to the she-ape.

This promptly reawakened her emotion and uncertainty about me. Her muzzle became red and she peered at me closely, trembling slightly. Since she made no further move, I again calmly seized her notebook, which this time she yielded to me without protest. Why had I not thought of this simple solution before? Mustering my school-day memories, I drew the geometrical figure illustrating the theorem of Pythagoras. It was not at random that I chose this proposition: I remembered reading in my youth a prophetic book in which such a procedure had been used by an old scientist to enter into communication with the spirits of another world. I had even discussed this during the voyage with Professor Antelle, who approved of the method. He had added, I distinctly remembered, that the Euclidean rules, being completely false, were no doubt for that very reason universal.

In any case, the effect it had on Zira was extraordinary. Her muzzle went purple and she gave a sharp exclamation. She did not recover her composure until Zoram and Zanam came up, intrigued by her attitude. Then she reacted in a way that I found extremely odd—after darting a furtive glance at me,
she carefully hid the drawing I had just completed. She spoke to the gorillas, who then left the hall, and I realized she had sent them off on some pretext or other. Then she turned back to me and took my hand, the pressure of her fingers having quite a different significance from when she flattered me like a young animal after a successful trick. Finally she handed me the notebook and fountain pen with an air of entreaty.

Now it was she who appeared eager to establish contact. I gave thanks to Pythagoras and embarked once more on my geometry. On one page of the notebook I drew to the best of my ability the three conic sections with their axes and centers: an ellipse, a parabola, and an hyperbola. Then, on the opposite page, I drew a right circular cone. Let me remind the reader that the intersection of such a body by a plane produces one of the three conic sections, depending on the angle of the cut. In this case I drew the figure to illustrate an ellipse, then, reverting to my first diagram, pointed out the corresponding curve to my astonished she-ape.

She snatched the notebook out of my hands and in turn drew another cone, intersected at a different angle, and pointed out the hyperbola with her long finger. I felt such intense emotion that tears came to my eyes and I clasped her hands convulsively. Nova whimpered with rage at the far end of the cage. Her instinct did not deceive her as to the meaning of these demonstrations. It was a spiritual communion
that had just been established between Zira and me through the medium of geometry. I derived an almost sensual satisfaction from this and felt that the she-ape was also deeply moved.

She broke free with a sudden jerk and rushed from the hall. She was absent only a few minutes, but during this time I remained lost in thought without daring to look at Nova, about whom I felt almost guilty and who turned her back on me with a growl.

When Zira came back she handed me a large sheet of paper fixed to a drawing board. I thought for a second or two and made up my mind to deliver a decisive blow. In one corner of the sheet I sketched the system of Betelgeuse, as we had discovered it on our arrival, with the giant central body and its four planets. I marked Soror down in its exact position together with its own little satellite; I indicated it to Zira, then pointed my forefinger at her repeatedly. She signaled to me that she had understood completely.

Then in another corner of the sheet I drew our dear old solar system with its principal planets. I indicated the Earth and pointed my finger at my own chest.

This time Zira was slower to understand. She, too, indicated the Earth, then pointed her finger upward. I gave an affirmative nod. She was flabbergasted and her mental turmoil was plain to see. I did my best to help her by drawing another dotted
line between Earth and Soror and marking in our vessel, on a different scale, on the trajectory. This made her see the light. I was now certain that my true nature and origin were known to her. She was about to draw closer to me but at that moment Zaius appeared at the end of the corridor for his periodical inspection.

A look of terror came into the she-ape’s eyes. She quickly crumpled up the paper, put her notebook back in her pocket, and, before the orangutan had reached us, placed her forefinger on her mouth with an air of entreaty. She was counseling me not to show myself in my true colors to Zaius. I obeyed her without understanding the reason for these mysteries and, convinced that I had an ally in her, promptly resumed my intelligent animal attitude.

From then on, thanks to Zira, my knowledge of the simian world and language increased rapidly. She contrived to see me alone almost every day on the pretext of some test and undertook my education, instructing me in the language and at the same time learning mine with a rapidity that amazed me. In less than two months we were capable of holding a conversation on a variety of subjects. Little by little I came to understand the planet Soror, and it is the characteristics of this strange civilization that I am now going to try to describe.

As soon as we could converse together, Zira and I, I directed the conversation toward the principal object of my curiosity: Were the apes the only rational beings, the kings of creation on the planet?

“What do you think?” she said. “Ape is of course the only rational creature, the only one possessing a mind as well as a body. The most materialistic of our scientists recognize the supernatural essence of the simian mind.”

Phrases like this always gave me a start in spite of myself.

“Well then, Zira, what are men?”

We were then speaking French, for, as I have said, she was quicker to learn my language than I hers. At the outset there were some difficulties of interpretation, the words “man” and “ape” not evoking the same creatures for us; but this snag was quickly smoothed out. Each time she said “ape,” I mentally translated “superior being, the height of evolution.” When she spoke about men, I knew she meant bestial creatures endowed with a certain sense of imitation and presenting a few anatomical similarities to apes but of an embryonic psyche and devoid of the power of thought.

“It was only a century ago,” she said dogmatically, “that we made some remarkable progress in the science of origins. It used to be thought that species were immutable, created with their present characteristics by an all-powerful God. But a line of great thinkers, all of them chimpanzees, have modified our ideas on this subject completely. Today we know that all species are mutable and probably have a common source.”

“So that apes probably descend from men?”

“Some of us thought so; but it is not exactly that. Apes and men are two separate branches that have evolved from a point in common but in different directions, the former gradually developing to the stage of rational thought, the others stagnating in their animal state. Many orangutans, however, still insist on denying this obvious fact.”

“You were saying Zira … a line of great thinkers, all of them chimpanzees?”

I am reporting these conversations as they occurred, in non-consecutive snatches, my eagerness to learn leading Zira into countless lengthy digressions.

“Almost all the great discoveries,” she stated vehemently, “have been made by chimpanzees.”

“Are there different classes among the apes?”

“There are three distinct families, as you have noticed, each of which has its own characteristics: chimpanzees, gorillas, and orangutans. The racial barriers that used to exist have been abolished and the disputes arising from them have been settled, thanks mainly to the campaigns launched by the chimpanzees. Today, in principle, there is no difference at all between us.”

“But most of the great discoveries,” I persisted, “were made by the chimpanzees.”

“That is true.”

“What about the gorillas?”

“They are meat eaters,” she said scornfully. “They were overlords and many of them have preserved a lust for power. They enjoy organizing and
directing. They love hunting and life in the open air. The poorest of them are engaged on work that requires physical strength.”

“And the orangutans?”

Zira looked at me for a moment, then burst out laughing.

“They are Official Science,” she said. “You must have noticed this already and you’ll have plenty of opportunities to confirm it. They learn an enormous amount from books. They are all decorated. Some of them are looked upon as leading lights in a narrow specialized field that requires a good memory. Apart from that …”

She made a gesture of contempt. I did not pursue this subject, but made a mental note to come back to it later. I led the conversation to more general ideas. At my request she drew the genealogical tree of the ape, in so far as the best specialist had determined it. This bore a close resemblance to the diagrams that with us represent the evolutionary process. From a single trunk, whose roots faded away at the base into the unknown, various limbs branched out in succession: vegetables, unicellular organisms, then coelenterata and echinoderms; higher up one arrived at fish, reptiles, and finally mammals. The tree was extended to include a class analogous to our anthropoids, and at this point a new limb branched out: that of men. This branch stopped short, whereas the central stem went on rising, giving birth to different species of prehistoric
apes with barbaric names, to culminate eventually in
Simius sapiens
, forming the three extreme points of evolution: the chimpanzee, the gorilla, and the orangutan. It was absolutely clear.

“Ape’s brain,” Zira concluded, “has developed, is complex and organized, whereas man’s has hardly undergone any transformation.”

“And why, Zira, has the simian brain developed in this way?”

Language had undoubtedly been an essential factor. But why did apes talk and not men? Scientific opinion differed on this point. There were some who saw in it a mysterious divine intervention. Others maintained that ape’s mind was primarily the result of the fact that he had four agile hands.

“With only two hands, each with short, clumsy fingers,” said Zira, “man is probably handicapped at birth, incapable of progressing and acquiring a precise knowledge of the universe. Because of this he has never been able to use a tool with any success. Oh, it’s possible that he once tried, clumsily.… Some curious vestiges have been found.

There are a number of research projects going on at this moment into that particular subject. If you’re interested in these questions, I’ll introduce you someday to Cornelius. He is much more qualified than I am to discuss them.”

“Cornelius?”

“My fiancé,” said Zira, blushing. “A very great, a real scientist.”

“A chimpanzee?”

“Of course.… Anyway,” she concluded, “that’s what I think, too: our being equipped with four hands is one of the most important factors in our spiritual evolution. It helped us in the first place to climb trees, and thereby conceive the three dimensions of space, whereas man, pegged to the ground by a physical malformation, slumbered on the flat. A taste for tools came to us next because we had the potentiality of using them with dexterity. Achievement followed, and it is thus we have raised ourselves to the level of wisdom.”

On Earth I had frequently heard precisely the opposite argument used to explain the superiority of man. After thinking it over, however, Zira’s reasoning struck me as being neither more nor less convincing than ours.

I should have liked to pursue this conversation, and I still had a thousand questions to ask, when we were interrupted by Zoram and Zanam bringing the evening meal. Zira bade me a hasty good night and went off.