Free Planet of the Apes by Pierre Boulle Page B

couple of walking sticks. His head adorned with long coarse hair and sunk between his shoulders, his face frozen in an expression of pedantic meditation, he looked like a venerable and solemn old pontiff. He was also dressed quite differently from the others, in a long black frock coat with a red star in the buttonholeand black-and-white-striped trousers, both somewhat dusty.
    He was followed by a little female chimpanzee carrying a heavy brief case. Her attitude suggested that she was his secretary. By this time no one is surprised, I imagine, by my repeated reference to significant attitudes and expressions among these apes. I am convinced that any rational being confronted with this couple would have concluded, as I did, that the one was a learned elder and the other his humble secretary. Their arrival gave me an opportunity of noting again the sense of hierarchy that seemed to exist among the apes. Zira showed every sign of respect for this superior of hers. The two gorillas went forward to meet him as soon as they caught sight of him and bowed low before him. The orangutan gave a condescending little wave of his hand.
    They made straight for my cage. Was I not the most interesting subject of the lot? I welcomed the great authority with my most affable smile and addressed him in ringing tones:
    “My dear orangutan, how happy I am to find myself at last in the presence of a creature who exhales wisdom and intelligence! I am sure we are going to understand each other, you and I.”
    The old dear had given a start at the sound of my voice. He scratched his ear for some time and peered suspiciously into my cage as though scenting some trickery. Zira then addressed him, notebookin hand, reading out the particulars she had jotted down about me. She did her best, but it was plain to see that the orangutan refused to be convinced. He uttered two or three sentences in a pompous manner, shrugged his shoulders several times, shook his head, then put his hands behind his back and started pacing up and down the corridor, passing and repassing my cage and darting glances in my direction that were far from kindly. The other apes waited for his decision in respectful silence.
    In seemingly respectful silence, at least—for their respect appeared far from genuine when I intercepted a furtive sign from one gorilla to the other, the sense of which allowed no room for doubt: they were making fun of the boss behind his back. This, combined with the annoyance I felt at his attitude toward me, inspired me with the idea of putting on a little act designed to convince him of my mental ability. I started pacing to and fro in the cage, imitating his gait, my shoulders hunched, my hands behind my back, my brow wrinkled in an air of profound meditation.
    The gorillas choked with laughter and Zira herself was unable to keep a straight face. As for the secretary, she was obliged to plunge her muzzle into her brief case to hide her amusement. I was congratulating myself on my demonstration when I suddenly realized it was dangerous. Noticing my mimicry, the orangutan looked very annoyed and in a dry voice uttered a few sharp words that restored orderimmediately. Then he stopped in front of me and started dictating his notes to his secretary.
    He went on dictating for a long time, punctuating his phrases with pompous gestures. I was beginning to have enough of his blindness and resolved to give him fresh proof of my capacities. Stretching my arms out toward him, I spoke up to the best of my ability:
    “Mi Zaius.”
    I had noticed that all the underlings who addressed him began with these two words. Zaius, I subsequently learned, was the pontiff’s name, “mi” an honorific title.
    The monkeys were flabbergasted. They no longer wanted to laugh, least of all Zira, who seemed extremely perturbed, especially when I pointed a finger at her and added “Zira,” a name I had also remembered and that could only be hers. As for Zaius, he was completely