Great Apes (50 page)

Now, teasing some of Dr Anthony Bohm's fast-congealing semen out of her groin fur, he inparted – with utmost deference, ‘Show me “chup-chupp”, Jean, did we always have other adult males in residence when I fused with you “huu”?'

Jean goggled at Simon – such a nonsensical question was unsettling. ‘ “Hooo” my dear old cock, what are you gesturing about “huu”? Derek was your beta, and Anthony a rather distal-gamma. Of course Christobel used to live with us as well, but you never covered her as much as she would have liked. She fissioned well before we did “gru-nn”.'

This palping of the past provoked Simon's most pressing concern. While the refusion with his infants had, thus far, gone well – there had been mutual recognition and satisfying grooming – nonetheless it was at some cost to the former artist. As much as the refusion drew him further into the bristling embrace of chimpunity, it also insistently presented to his mind's eye those visions of lost humanity, that he increasingly viewed as psychotic, mad, humanshit.

Shadowing his two male infants Simon still saw a third, human one. He could remember Simon junior's bare little visage, his undershot jaw and slightly goofy teeth, as well – if not better – than the muzzles of these unshaven offspring. With this memory came crepuscular images of a human
past. Of making oven chips and fish fingers; of snapping
underwear
into place; of cross-peeing, the green streams plashing and spluttering over the bathroom floor. All of them involved
three
male infants. Where was that third?

Simon withdrew his fingers from Jean's swelling and squatted up. He gestured, including Busner in his digitations, ‘I know this may be “hooo” disturbing for you, Jean, my adored ex-alpha. God knows, it's disturbing enough for me, but part of this “hooo” illness of mine, this breakdown, has been the absolute conviction that we had three infants together – not two. Jean, can you “h'huuu” think of any reason why this should be the case?'

Initially Jean Dykes seemed to have ignored this odd question, the only sign that she winced at was Simon's blasphemy. She now retaliated by poking her ex-alpha hard in the eye. “Eeeek”! Simon squeaked.

“Wraaa”! Jean vocalised, then gestured, ‘You should know better that to take the Lord's sign in vain, Simon. Remember the Gospels: In the beginning was the sign and the sign was made flesh “h'huu”?'

Simon wasn't foolhardy enough to challenge this attack; he presented to Jean and fluttered, ‘I'm so sorry “hooo”, I didn't mean any disrespect, but, Jean, this missing infant “huu”? Why would I have such an odd memory “huu”?'

Jean Dykes was flummoxed. ‘ “Hooo” I really have no such image, Simon. Of course,
I
always wanted a third infant after Henry was weaned, but you “euch-euch” were insistent that you
had
to concentrate on your “euch-euch” art –'

‘Jean “gru-nn”, I'm sorry to flag you down, but the infant I have in mind would be between Magnus and
Henry in age, perhaps around seven years old now. And Jean, I'm thinking of a “hooo” human infant.'

Busner was playing a subtle game of coochy-coo with Jean Dykes, signing with his toes on her volar region, ‘Please, Mrs Dykes, I know what he's gesturing about must seem absurd, but try to humour him – he's been making such progress recently …'

Jean arched her ridges. ‘A human infant “huu”? Of around seven years in age …' Her fingers faltered, a light suddenly went on behind her green eyes. ‘A human infant “h'hee-hee”. Simon, you must “h'hee-hee” forgive me, there was – there
was
a human infant –'

‘What! “H'hoooo”! What, Jean “huuu”?' The former artist shot bipedal, he was horripilating, everything about him signed feral intent.

‘Simon, please “hoogrnn” calm yourself. Yes, there was a human infant that we adopted –'

‘Adopted “huuu”?'

‘Yes “hee-hee” that's right, in the zoo, in London Zoo. You arranged an adoption for our infants. It was part of that conservation programme,
Lifewatch
, I think that's what it's denoted. You know how keen the infants are on animals and you thought it would be good for them to have an “gru-nnn” individual animal which they could fuse with. It was one of your more paternal acts. You arranged to sponsor this animal and it was an infant male of around seven years –'

‘Did I “huuu”,' Simon chopped in again, ‘did I give this human a name, Jean? Did I denote it anything “huu”?'

‘Well, you left that to Magnus, Simon, it was after all meant to be
his
project. As I recall he did denote it – I'm surprised you don't –'

‘Why “huu”?'

‘Because it was a group joke, you and the infants used to cackle about it the whole time. You see, when you went to the zoo to see the human infant, his head fur was rather like yours, my ex-alpha, and his eyes, so Magnus denoted him … Simon.'

When Alex Knight, the documentary maker, arrived at Redington Road a couple of hours later, Simon's ex-group were just leaving. Knuckle-walking up the front path he was confronted by the spectacle of approximately twenty adults and infants engaged in a vast valedictory grooming session. Without even bothering to present to any of them – they were so entwined with each other they wouldn't notice anyway – he set his camcorder going and began taping. He wasn't to stop for many days, so entertaining was the spectacle of Dr Busner and his unusual patient.

“HoooGraaa,” Simon vocalised for the last time as the two little scuts disappeared in the direction of Frognal. Magnus and Henry stopped knuckle-walking, turned back and gave valedictory pant-hoots, “HoooGraa.” Their falsetto cries shrilled in the afternoon gloom of an English day in late autumn.

Simon turned to Busner who squatted by him on the doorstep. ‘I will see them soon “huu”, won't I, Zack?'

‘Of course you will, Simon, that “chup-chupp” refusion went exceptionally well. See how co-operative your ex was and how pleased your infants were to get a grooming from their alpha. Anthony Bohm, Derek and that gamma – what was he denoted “huu”?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Well, anyway, the other male too. They all signed to me that they wouldn't mind you coming to stay at the group home whenever you wanted to see the infants. Now, that's not so bad, is it “huuu”?'

‘No, I suppose “gru-nnn” not.'

Busner saw Alex Knight and called him over, ‘

“HoooH'Graa” Mr Knight, please be good enough to present yourself. ' The young chimp scuttled over, arse first, camcorder aloft. ‘You're just in time,' Busner fingered on, after Knight had properly abased himself, ‘for a trip to the zoo.'

‘The zoo “huu”?'

‘You saw me, the zoo. My friend Mr Dykes has an adoptive human infant at London Zoo, a human infant that may represent the very keystone of his unfortunate delusion. We think that if he comes muzzle-to-muzzle with this animal, the negative cathexis he has constructed around the notion of humanity may well be dissolved. ' Naturally, the television chimp didn't really comprehend these signs, but he nodded sagely all the same and kept the camcorder rolling.

Simon was more agitated by this information. ‘What do you mean “huuu”? Are we going to the zoo right now “huu”?'

‘There's no time like the present,' the maverick anti-psychiatrist – as he liked to style himself – countersigned. ‘While you were “gru-nnn” having a valedictory groom with your ex-group, I pant-hooted Hamble in Eynsham. As I suspected, he knows the head primate keeper at London Zoo, a chimp called Mick Carchimp. Hamble pant-hooted Carchimp in turn and he's agreed to show us
round, see if he can assist us. “H'huu” I wonder if he's part of the same group.'

‘Who “huu”?'

‘Carchimp – part of the same group as that libel lawyer.'

They went in the television crew's van. Simon offered to drive the Volvo, showing Zack, ‘Go on, let me, I used to really enjoy driving. ' But when he saw how many gears the car had – twenty forward and fifteen reverse, all requiring double declutching – he backed down.

Together with Alex Knight was his sound recordist, Janet Higson, and a research assistant-cum-gofer denoted Bob. Bob drove the van, Alex Knight squatted in the front seat and kept the camcorder trained on the two chimps in the back. Poor Higson struggled to catch their vocalisations with a boom mike that she pushed out from where she squatted in the van's back compartment.

Mick Carchimp met them at the main gates together with the zoo's director, a cheery fellow who insisted on them denoting him simply Jo. He presented low to both Zack and Simon, fluttering, ‘We are honoured, such an unusual patrol to visit us and both of you with such splendid ischial pleats, please be so good “gru-nnn” as to kiss my arse. ' This they duly did, then the whole group of chimpanzees knuckle-walked down through the zoo to the humans' enclosure, Alex Knight filming the while.

The zoo was fairly empty on this weekday afternoon. A few tourists squatted here and there, eating peanuts and grooming in a desultory fashion. The animals were also torpid. In the herons' cage the birds stood, one-legged, as static as garden ornaments. In the gorillas' enclosure, the
only sign of life was a heaving pile of straw, hiding from view the silvery back fur of the giant male.

As for the humans, they were as zombie-like and uninspiring as the first time Simon had seen them. “‘H'huuu” you've seen our human group before, I believe, Mr Dykes?' Mick Carchimp gestured as they came up to the glass which fronted the enclosure.

‘Yes, that's right,' Simon countersigned. ‘I remember that one in particular “euch-euch”. ' It was the human Simon had dubbed the Wanker who had caught his attention. The Wanker was making good his moniker, standing in a daze, his slack hand yanking his great wiener of a member; his vacant, white-pigmented eyes rolled back in his head. A silvery thread of drool was strung from his mouth to his chest, and this twirled in synchrony with his pleasureless onanism.

‘That's our alpha male,' Carchimp signed. ‘He's been with us the longest of any of our humans.'

‘Was he born here “huu”?' Busner asked.

‘No, he was born at Twycross – they have a very big human group there. But some of our other humans were captured in the wild – that one, for example. ' Carchimp was pointing at the other sorry specimen Simon had denoted the Commuter. The Commuter was also living up to his title, standing motionless, one truncated arm hooked loosely around a shoulder-height handhold, the other dangling by his side, a slice of white bread clutched between his grey fingers.

‘That human actually came originally from Tanzania, but we got him from a pharmaceutical company's laboratory, after they'd finished with him –'

‘What do they do with the humans “huuu”?' Simon flagged Carchimp down.

“‘Hooo” all sorts of things, Mr Dykes – none of them, I'm afraid, particularly nice. I believe this specimen was kept in a large compound – you know how humans
hate
being unconfined – and together with other adult males was shot at with hypodermic darts full of cocaine.'

‘Cocaine “huuu”? What's the point of that then?'

‘Good question, something to do with studying drug dependency, I suppose. It's the human species' great misfortune to be our closest living relative, so all sorts of research gets done on the beasts. Even here at the zoo we do some experiments – although as chimpmanely as possible.'

‘What sort of experiments “huuu”?'

Simon's muzzle was a picture of anxiety. He hadn't exactly expected to see Simon junior in the humans' enclosure, but nonetheless an insistent image of his missing human infant kept coming to him. He peered through the thick glass into the dim recesses of the humans' room. It would be demonic, evilly bad to see the familiar muzzle, the undershot jaw and slightly goofy teeth in amongst these naked brutes. All of Simon's pictures were of a clothed infant, an infant in school uniform. If these humans were to be clothed, they'd look altogether subversive, like humans got up for a travesty of a tea party, or a P.G. Tips commercial.

Even more unsettling was the image of Simon junior naked, strapped down, electrodes wired to his shaven head, or hypodermic syringes shot into his furless flesh. Simon junior infected with CIV, or poisoned with anthrax, or
with his eyelids pinned back so that perfumed fursprays could be tested on his exposed eyeballs.

‘ “Hooo” well, we don't do anything that involves harming our humans. We're more interested in attempting to get genetic profiles of human sub-species. One of our biggest problems with captive humans is that all the subspecies have interbred in captivity, so most of these humans are hybrids. You see, it wasn't known that there were human sub-species until recently –'

‘ “H'huuu” what, may I ask, distinguishes them?' Busner flicked in.

‘It's difficult for laychimps to spot the difference without training, I think because the sight of humans is so unsettling to begin with – but, put simply, they have different “euch-euch” skin colourings, and also different casts to their muzzles. Once you're trained in identifying them, it's quite easy to tell them apart. Not that that would help you much with our group – apart from that one,' he stabbed at the Commuter, ‘they're all hybrids.'

The chimps squatted in silence for some minutes observing the lack of activity in the human enclosure. Most of the animals were gathered on the sleeping platform, but unlike chimpanzees they had no interest in touching one another. Instead they sat side-by-side in a long row, their dumb rigid feet sticking up like bony bookends, their bald muzzles devoid of expression or intelligence. The only movement came from a group of infants who were playing in the area underneath the platform. These mites were far more chimp-like. They rolled in the straw, they dangled from the handholds, they tickled and sported with one another.