Free Conquest Of The Planet Of The Apes by John Jakes Page B

was still a part of the system. As the handler led the way into a small amphitheatre, guiding Caesar to a seat on one of the higher tiers, a gorilla’s horrific scream ripped loose.
    Down on the floor of the amphitheater, two gorillas lay buckled and strapped to parallel padded tables. Electrodes attached to the temples of each gorilla ran to connection points on the table pedestals. Nearby, a man in a smock sat at a console, an older supervisor hovering at his shoulder. A voice thundered out of a giant speaker in the amphitheatre ceiling, uttering a single syllable—“NO!” Simultaneously, the console operator threw a switch. Instantly both gorillas went into violent spasms, and both howled.
    The operator jerked the switch to off. The speaker blared again, even louder. “NO!” The switch went forward.
    The spasms of the gorillas were worse this time. Saliva trickled from their lips as their arms, legs, and chests heaved in reaction to the electric agony being fed through the forehead wires. This time, the operator glancing at a sweep hand on a clock face mounted on his console, kept the current flowing longer. Sickened by the sight, Caesar was still unable to keep from watching.
    “Volume all the way up,” ordered the supervisor. The operator turned again. The amplified voice made the bones in Caesar’s skull throb.
    “NO!”
    Over went the switch. The gorillas arched in agonized convulsions. Their screams made Caesar want to howl his own protest, but he fought the reaction with all of his will. At last, the ghastly yelping ended as the switch returned to off position.
    The supervisor answered the operator’s inquiring look with an upraised hand. He circled the console, approached the first gorilla, who had partially torn one arm strap with his writhing. Gazing down into the gorilla’s pain-wracked eyes, the supervisor said very softly, “No.” And although the operator’s hand did not touch his switch, the effect was precisely the same. The still recumbent gorilla began to twist and grind his teeth and convulse over the entire length of his body. The supervisor gave a satisfied nod, stepped to the next padded table. Again he said, “No.” The second gorilla howled and shook with spasms . . .
    And Caesar was on his feet, eyes flaring with hatred.
    Morris grabbed his arm, exclaimed sharply, “No!”
    The realization that he’d almost betrayed himself rocked Caesar back to sense. With only a split second of delay, he began trembling. He lowered his head, hunched his shoulders in a less violent duplication of the shock-spasms the apes had demonstrated.
    Firmly, Morris pushed Caesar’s shoulder until he was seated again. Caesar let his simulated cringing and shuddering gradually work itself out.
    The operator and the supervisor began to unbuckle the straps on the now docile gorillas. The supervisor glanced up to the amphitheater seats.
    “We’ll take him next, Morris.”
    “I think we can skip it, Doctor Bowen,” Morris answered. “He’s got the message.”
    To demonstrate, Morris turned to Caesar and said, “No!”
    Once more Caesar simulated the cringing and shuddering of the gorillas. The supervisor observed him for a moment, finally gave a crisp nod.
    From one set of doors at floor level, handlers appeared with wheeled carts, to which they transferred the semiconscious gorillas. Morris guided Caesar out to the corridor, suffused now with blood-colored sunset light filtering through a distant oval window.
    As Caesar followed the handler toward the elevators, the latter said, “Be thankful you were born a chimp, my friend. I’ve been here four years and that section still makes me sick.”
    Caesar wished he dared speak his enraged thoughts. Yes, it sickens you. But you still work for them.
    Instead, he accepted another banana with a feigned chitter of pleasure.
    When the elevator doors opened, Morris preceded Caesar into one of the oversized cars in which he had been lifted to the No Conditioning