Orphan of Creation (26 page)

Barbara scratched her own head and sighed. That was foolishness. Evolution was directionless, and no creature ever decided whether to evolve into a new form. It simply happened. There was another thought that worried her, frightened and excited her. Humans liked to think of themselves as reasoning and rational, but she knew the “human” part of the brain was but a thin veneer over all the evolutionary past of the brain. Literally just below the uniquely human part of the neocortex were the structures of the mammalian brain, and below that were components which closely resembled the reptilian brain, the amphibian brain, the fish brain, all the way back to structures that harked from the first creature to grow a spinal cord. All the history of the phylum
Chordata
was etched in her skull and her spinal cord. In a very real sense, wild animals lurked in her skull, in all human skulls, and evolutionary ancestors dead a hundred million years whispered and hissed their reptilian counsel from the core of her brain. She knew from examining skulls what human-like structures were smaller, less developed, or missing altogether in the australopithecine brain. What would a near-human be like, with that thin veneer of humanity stripped away, and the past so much closer to the surface?

Put it another way: What would humans be like, without that thin layer of brain cells that made them into a completely different kind of animal?

<>

Ovono scooped up the pile of trade goods that was settled on as the price, took off his hat, and dumped the things into it. “Then we are settled on the price,” he said as he put the rest of the thing back in the rucksack. “All is agreed. Now I must tell you of a small tradition in the American tribe, where my friends come from. They are willing to let agents do their bargaining, but they often claim the right to perform the exchange themselves, with no middlemen.” It was a reasonable-sounding lie, Ovono thought, but could use some embroidery. “They feel that if the final trade is made face-to-face, buyer and seller will know each other better, and trust each other more. So, I will go and collect my friends, and perhaps you can bring their
tranka
, and then they can make the trade themselves, eh?”

The chief said, “Yes, that is fine,” and gestured to the keeper to bring the beast. He seemed distracted, far more interested in the fine new things he would get than in anything else.

Ovono stood up and bowed politely to the chief before heading off to find his clients. He hadn’t mentioned the real reason for having the Americans do the trade themselves, of course. They could hardly complain about the price he had negotiated if they paid it themselves.

Even an honest broker knows he must protect himself.

<>

They heard a noise in the underbrush, and turned to look down the path in time to see Ovono coming along, all smiles.
“Bonjour, mes amis! Allez, allez, vite, vite!”
he called out, and urged them to stand and follow him with a gesture of his hand before turning back toward the village himself.

Rupert scooped up his pack and hurried to catch up. “How did it go?” he asked.

“Very well, very well,” Ovono said. “Here,” he said, handing Rupert the hatful of trinkets. “Your leader is the woman, no? Then give these to her, and tell her she is to exchange them for the
tranka
. But hurry, before the locals can debate the agreement!”

And before you Americans have time to argue with me, either, Ovono thought.

Rupert dropped back next to Barbara and explained. She looked in the bag. The harmonica, two of the watches, an inexpensive gold-plated chain—part of the jewelry she had brought to Gabon in case they ended up at an Embassy reception or something—Rupert’s Swiss army knife, Livingston’s class ring, and Barbara’s gold wedding ring. “All this just to examine one creature?” she asked Rupert. “We’re going to be bankrupt before we’re done.”

Rupert upped his pace to keep up with Ovono, who was still hurrying them on. “Well, I guess the locals knew more about trading than Ovono thought. But we can live with it for the moment. Let’s go.

They hurried along, almost double-timing, with Clark and Livingston bringing up the rear, and soon came to the village clearing.

<>

Ovono led them to the fire-pit, where the chief and his men were waiting. Ovono spoke rapidly and quietly to Rupert, and Rupert passed along the instructions to Barbara. “Walk over to the chief, and place each item, one at a time, onto the mat on the ground in front of him. Make a little bit of a ceremony out of it, and make sure everyone can see each thing as you take it out. Do a little dago-dazzling. When you are done, step back and join the rest of us. Don’t kneel, just squat down as little as you can and still put the things on the mat gracefully. Don’t bow to the chief or anything. We trade as equals, and shouldn’t kowtow to this geek. That’s a fairly free translation, but it gets the spirit of what he said.”

Barbara nodded, and did as she was told, pulling each thing out of the bag and holding it up high to be seen, gesturing grandly to the neatly displayed bric-a-brac when she was done. “What do I do with the hat?” she asked in a stage whisper, still squatting down in front of the chief, hoping she didn’t lose balance and fall down flat on her face.

Rupert checked with Ovono and relayed the answer. “Throw it into the pot as a sweetener. Sign of good will. Now stand up and come back to us, and make sure you
do
turn your back on him—it’s a sign of trust, and shows you don’t hold him in any awe.”

She turned and walked back to her friends, imagining daggers and spears sprouting out of her back with every step. She turned again and watched as the chief made a show of examining the goods, and his cronies made signs of approval, smiling and nodding. The chief gestured to one of his men, who bowed and left the group.

“Now what?” Rupert asked Ovono in French.

“Now the Utaani keeper goes to bring the
tranka
you have purchased. Make a show of examining it and saying how fine it is.”

Rupert and Clark looked sharply at Ovono. “The
tranka
we
bought
?” Clark said. “We only wanted to study them, look at—”

“What’s going on?” Livingston demanded, alarmed by the rapid French. “What’s wrong?”

Rupert was about to answer when he chanced to look up. “Oh my God.”

Barbara followed his glance and drew in her breath.

The keeper was walking back into camp, dutifully followed by—

Her eyes could not see it properly at first, trying to force what they saw into pigeonholes where it wouldn’t fit. It walked like a human so it must be human, but it looked like an animal, so it must be an animal, but some tiny gesture was so human-like, its—her—eyes were so expressive and soulful—but the mouth was a muzzle and the nose was barely there . . .

She blinked, swallowed, and realized she had grabbed onto Livingston’s arm, was holding him so tight it must have hurt, but he didn’t seem to notice. She relaxed her grip and forced herself to look again, to really
see
what was there.

It—no,
she
— was a female, unclothed and hairy, and somehow her nakedness, her vulnerability, seemed greater
because
of the sparse covering of fur. She was hairier than any adult human male, but the dark, coarse fur didn’t cover her even as thoroughly as a chimp’s would. There was no fur on the black-skinned muzzle of a face, but around her chinless jaw the hair was thick enough to be a sort of beard. She was short and massively built, no more than five feet tall, the muscles on her body standing out like a weightlifter’s. Her breasts could not properly be called by that name, but were so flat and flaccid they were more like a set of teats sagging against the muscular chest. She stood quietly, solidly, her feet set a bit further apart than a human might find comfortable, but she was as thoroughly a biped as Ambrose’s bones had said she would be. There was no grace in her short-legged stance, but no clumsiness either. She belonged on two feet. Her feet were large and splay-footed, the toes wide apart and looking capable of gripping things more effectively than a human’s could. Her arms were nearly as massive as Livingston’s, and the proportions of the arms looked a little odd. Her hands were large, callused things, the nails big, thick, yellowing a bit, and badly chipped at the end—closer to claws than to human fingernails.

But all that was strange, yet almost acceptable. It could have been the body of a stocky and unfortunate woman with a pituitary problem. Every detail was nearly human, close enough that it didn’t matter. Humans could still have been human with that body.

It was the face, the head.

The all-too-human eyes, hazel-colored and solemn, stared at Barbara from below a massive shelf of bone that swept directly back into a low, hairless skull. The forehead, for all practical purposes, was not even there. Perched atop those massive superorbitals were an incongruous pair of bushy black eyebrows that moved and wiggled with the strong facial muscles, just like human eyebrows.

The front of the head seemed to jut out, and the massive jaw forced the mouth farther forward still. Her nose was a squashed-up thing, the flat, wide nostrils pointed out like a gorilla’s, rather than down like a human’s. The ears were tiny, folded back against the skull—but then they seemed to prick up to listen more closely.

It was not an ape’s face. It was too erect, too alert, too expressive. In the eyes, in the intent stare and the purposeful set of the head, there was something no chimp had ever had. And that face was staring as intently at the Americans as the Americans were staring at it. The creature’s eyes flicked back and forth from Livingston to Barbara, hesitated a moment longer on the strangely pale white men, Rupert and Clark, and began the inspection again.

Livingston finally collected himself enough to whisper his question again. “Rupert, was something wrong with the deal? What were you and Ovono arguing about . . .”

But Livingston saw the answer before he finished asking. The keeper smiled at them, stepped over to the australopithecine, and peeled back her lips to display her front teeth, then urged her jaw open to display the back teeth. The creature flinched away for a moment, grunted and drew back, and the fur on the nape of her neck stood up on end. But then, with a shrug of resignation, she allowed the keeper to do what he would. The keeper finished with her mouth and made the creature hold her arms straight out, and he patted the muscular biceps proudly. He made her turn around so he could show how strong she was. The keeper prattled on as he performed, smiling, telling them what he was doing, but for once, no translation was needed.

Every black American had a scene like this burned into his memory, into his past, would have recognized this eerie burlesque for what it was in a moment.

“Congratulations, Barbara,” Livingston said, his voice filled with as much shock as horror. “You’ve just bought yourself a slave.”

Chapter Seventeen

She did not understand. She did not understand anything. These were a new kind of people, dressed strangely, colored strangely—they even smelled strange. Somehow she sensed that these new ones were as surprised as she was. Staring at them, she ignored the rude probings and proddings of the keeper and strained to figure it out.

<>

“Now what the hell do we do?” Rupert demanded. “Ovono, you
bought
this creature?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Ovono asked, almost in distraction, staring at the thing standing in front of them. He had never seen such a monster! He could suddenly understand why the surrounding tribes thought these things were imprisoned souls. His Christian God was barely bulwark enough to keep him from thinking the same. He shivered, crossed himself, and forced himself to listen to Rupert’s words.

“We wanted to
look
at them, take pictures, that’s all!”

“But what better way?” Ovono replied, trying to think his way out of this catastrophe. “You own this creature now. You can do with it whatever you like.”

“Americans don’t buy slaves anymore,” Rupert said harshly.

“But a slave is a person, a human being! This is an animal!” Ovono protested.

“An animal these bastards use as a slave! I’m not sinking down to their level!”

“
Quiet
.” Clark spoke for the first time, in a low, forceful tone. “Let’s remember these bastards
are
bastards and that we are in their place. Get them angry, make them think we’re displeased, and we might not walk out of here.” Sure enough, the chief looked rather worried already. The men behind him were backing off a bit, shifting their stance, and the two or three gripped the handles of their work knives unconsciously.

“What’s done is done, Ovono,” he said in French, “and we were too afraid of what you might think to explain ourselves well. It’s a bad situation, but nobody’s fault. Talk to them, lie your way out of this, think up some pleasant reason we’d be fighting.” He shifted from French to English. “Barb, Liv, I don’t like this any better than you do, but we appear to have purchased this young lady by accident. Smile and put a good face on it, or else these creeps might get nasty.” He switched back to French and spoke again to Ovono. “Now, smile, talk to them, and make it convincing.”

Ovono felt a nervous sweat starting to drip down his face. He ran his tongue around suddenly dry lips. “Excuse our excitement, gentlemen! A slight disagreement over who most properly has first claim over this fine
tranka
, and the right to escort her back along the path. Surely that right must belong to—to the owner of the most valuable thing paid for it! Yes, of course.” He turned and grabbed Barbara by the arm, and spoke to Rupert in French. “Tell her she must lead the creature off from here, back down the path we came from.” Ovono turned backed toward the Utaani and smiled. “We shall return later today, but my friends are most eager to examine our new prize. We will retire to our camp and come back later for more talk.” Ovono bowed slightly to the chief—proper in an emissary, if not in a principal—and backed away a step or two. “We must leave now,” he said to Clark. “I have told them we have made camp down the path, that we will be there for a time. We must leave calmly and gracefully. And tell Mademoiselle Barbara to do what I said and claim the creature,
quickly
.”

<>

Clark shifted to English and relayed the instructions. Suddenly all eyes were on Barbara. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her stomach churning with fear. But still she stepped forward, walked past the keeper, who had finally noticed something was wrong and stopped his sales-patter.

Barbara stopped, standing face to face with—with the living, breathing embodiment of a million yesteryears, a black and hairy creature who stared back at her with eyes that seemed far too wise. She stood so close she felt the australopithecine’s warm breath on her face. What to do? Impulsively, recklessly, she reached out and offered out her hands.

The creature stared at her for a long time, then, hesitantly, wonderingly, offered up her own right hand.

Barbara took the hand in both of hers. The strange flesh felt warm and strong, strangely gentle and familiar.

Barbara stepped back, tugging gently on the creature’s arm, and the creature followed along, most slowly and tentatively. She let her own right hand drop, and held the australopithecine’s right in her left. She fell into step with the poor frightened thing.

Hand in hand, side by side, the two of them walked out of the camp.

Hurriedly, almost furtively, the other visitors followed a respectful step or two behind.

<>

Dr. Jeffery Grossington stepped, rather unhappily, out onto the stage of Baird Auditorium and looked out into the audience. The Baird was a handsome old auditorium, set neatly into the basement of the Natural History Building, and Grossington had both given and attended many pleasant talks in it over the years. He did not expect today’s little presentation to be pleasant. There was a low trestle table set in the middle of the stage and he carefully set the box holding Ambrose the skull down on it before sitting behind a small forest of microphones.

It had been a bad day already. The wire services had picked up the story, but only a few small, regional papers had run it. The
Times
had yet to use it, but the
Post
had run an inside-page piece. Several radio and TV station had run items, mostly funny ha-ha what-a-cockamamie-rumor things. There had been some very odd sidebars here and there already—and some of the people who had called for interviews were just plain strange.

He looked out once again at the audience. Not as much of a crowd as he had expected. Maybe twenty or so reporters, though his office had contacted many more than that. There were a fair number of museum employees present, too.
That
shouldn’t have surprised him. They were no doubt eager to hear whatever truth there might be behind the rumors that had been flying about the building for days now.

Grossington glanced at his watch and grimaced. Time to begin. Might as well get it over with. He tapped at one of the mikes and cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you could take your seats, perhaps we might get started.”

It took a welcome minute or two for everyone to get settled. Finally, the moment came when he could stall no longer, and there was nothing for it but to plunge right in. “I’d like to thank you all for coming, and also thank the Smithsonian and the Natural History Museum for providing facilities at such short notice. My name, incidentally, is Dr. Jeffery Grossington, and I am the head of the Anthropology Department at the Museum. Before I take any questions, I have a statement to make.

“I am sure that most of you, perhaps all of you, have seen or at least heard about the reports coming out of the town of Gowrie, Mississippi. I suppose that the rather sparse turnout today has something to do with the expectation that I’ve called this press conference simply to deny those reports.

“I’m afraid I can’t fulfill that expectation. Although the news came out sooner than I would have preferred, and long before we have had the time to carefully consider the implications of what we have found, the news is true. Thanks to the determined efforts of Dr. Barbara Marchando, who cannot be with us today, a remarkable discovery has been made.

“But, before I discuss that discovery, I should like to pause a minute and say a word or two about Dr. Marchando. By rights,
she
should be up here telling you all this. It is her work, her determination, her time, effort, money, drive, and imagination in pursuit of something not only unexpected, but altogether unlikely, that brought to light the remarkable things I am about to discuss. I might add that she went in search of something quite different from what she found—which is the way a lot of good science happens. Had
we
chosen the time to make this announcement, she would be here to take the credit that is her due. I should also like to mention the signal efforts of Dr. Rupert Maxwell, who has made a great contribution, and also to a young man named Livingston Jones, who uncovered some extremely important facts.

“However, it seems the time has chosen us, instead of the other way around. Therefore, as the only member of the team present, it is incumbent on me to make this announcement and so insure that the discussion of this discovery is based on fact, rather than speculation and rumor.

“Briefly put, Dr. Marchando discovered a burial site, approximately one hundred and thirty-seven years old, in which no less than five extremely well-preserved and complete specimens of the genus
Australopithecus
were found. Those who have examined the find further believe the specimens are of the species
Australopithecus boisei.
As most of you should know, this species—and this entire genus—have been thought to be extinct for a million years. Therefore, the discovery of remains that were alive two human lifetimes ago is a most remarkable thing.

“At this time, I should like to present the skull of the first-found and best-preserved of the Gowrie specimens, cataloged as Gowrie Exhumation Project #1, GEP-1, but nicknamed Ambrose.” Grossington gingerly removed the skull from its box, and there was a flurry of flashes going off and the whir of motorized camera winders as the photographers captured the moment. “I should like to note that we managed to recover every single one of Ambrose’s bones. Obviously, it would be impractical to present them all here, but we have them in our possession—a few with traces of skin and fur on them. At the conclusion of the press conference, you will all be welcome to examine and photograph the skull as closely as you like, but needless to say, I must insist you not touch it. Tomorrow at noon I plan to present the entire skeleton, and indeed the entire GEP collection, for the close inspection of scientists and the media.

“There is clear and compelling evidence that the creature who owned this skull was buried no earlier than the latter half of 1851, probably in the summer of that year. As I have said, since his species was supposed to be extinct as of a million years ago, this is certainly a remarkable discovery. But I should like to dispose of several other supposed mysteries before I take questions on that and other aspects of the discovery.

“Chief among these alleged mysteries is that the creature was found in America, in Mississippi, and was deliberately buried. The announcement of their existence is less than thirty-six hours old, and I have already heard speculations to the effect that a band of australopithecines ventured to these shores across some sort of land bridge from Asia, or constructed some sort of vessel and crossed the ocean, and that the australopithecines then survived in America while becoming extinct in Africa. In fact, several rather enthusiastic theorists have already called me, asking to confirm what they regard as obvious: that the legendary Sasquatch, or Yeti, the abominable snowman allegedly seen from time to time in this country, were in fact members of this remnant population of australopithecines.

“Furthermore, the fact of deliberate burial for Ambrose and friends has been embroidered into the invention of a whole sophisticated culture for these creatures. More foolishly still, several people, especially in the Deep South, have already reported seeing strange man-like creatures since the discovery of these bones. None of this is supported by the evidence we have found, and I will state flatly that none of these reports has any basis in fact. They are nonsense. What is more, the people reporting those stories
know
they are nonsense, and will, no doubt, continue to report them anyway, even when confronted with the evidence that destroys their theories. I mention these reports only in the hope that the more rational members of the press will know they are false.

“As I have noted, we did not choose the moment to make this announcement. For that reason, we are not as yet prepared to release all our evidence, as we have not completed our analysis yet. But from our preliminary work, I can state with absolute confidence that these creatures were brought to these shores by perfectly ordinary human means, not by australopithecine sailors. I can further state with perfect confidence that human beings, and not their fellow-creatures, buried these australopithecines, not out of religious necessity, but out of fear of contagion. In short, the presence of these creatures in America, instead of Africa, can be wholly and satisfactorily accounted for by the actions of
humans
, without recourse to wild surmises or lost civilizations of ape-men. I would venture to say that the truth is fantastic enough in this case that the invention of scurrilous stories is quite unnecessary. And, I am grieved to say, I deny these false reports now in the full expectation that others will follow. I would therefore urge all of you who will be following this story to be most cautious, to examine
all
claims and statements as thoroughly as possible. This is a complicated topic whose implications could be tremendous. It requires thoughtful and responsible reporting. I’ll take the first question now.”