MacDonald. The other waved it back.
“I assembled that data, Morgan. Your summary wasn’t thorough enough. I.Q. has shown a slight rise—but as a result, so has work output of the apes.” The black man smiled a hard smile. “Which I thought the governor might regard as good news for a change.”
Breck returned the smile bleakly, turned and walked to the top of the small, open amphitheatre just beyond the pillars.
The impatient conversation of the well-dressed crowd was instantly silenced. Heads turned. A scattering of applause greeted the governor’s arrival. Breck affixed his politician’s smile, and waved in response as he started down the steps of the center aisle.
The amphitheatre was separated from the wide auction platform and central dais by a thick spike-topped wall of concrete. Near the dais, an auctioneer wearing a lavalier microphone acknowledged the governor’s presence with a smile of greeting. Behind the auction area rose a stark, pyramidal structure of concrete where the latest batch of processed apes was held before entering the arena via a doorway flanked by handlers.
Governor Breck moved briskly down the aisle. Briskness, he felt, was good for his image, but he paused a couple of times to favor an acquaintance with a personal word. One such was an orange-coiffured lady attended by an attractive female chimp.
“Mrs. Riley,” Breck nodded. “It was a shame about Leland’s coronary. Is he still in intensive care?”
Mrs. Riley said that was correct, adding, “But I try not to dwell on it. Mr. Governor.”
“Good for you,” Breck smiled, squeezing her shoulder and hurrying on—but not before he caught an almost human glint of amusement in the eyes of the girl chimp. That damned ape was laughing at her mistress! Or was it only a trick of the slanting sun and Breck’s growing, almost maniacal concern about the simian population? He was momentarily disgusted with himself for permitting a probably unrelated series of suppositions, facts, and incidents to weave an alarming pattern. And yet—he governed this city. Should anything go wrong, no one but Jason Breck would be blamed. His career would be finished. Nothing would go wrong. Prevention tinged with paranoia was preferable to disaster.
At the bottom of the aisle, one of the state security policemen snapped to attention and unhooked a plush rope. The governor took a seat in the first row, immediately behind the spike-and-concrete barrier. Unconsciously, he tapped his program against his knee as his staff settled in the rows behind him.
“Start the bidding,” he called. The auctioneer nodded, rapped his gavel. The gleaming alloy door in the face of the pyramid slid aside as the auctioneer’s miked voice boomed. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re offering an exceptionally fine group today, starting with lot number one, a very strong gorilla thoroughly trained in general security duties, including night watch . . .”
For some reason, Breck swiveled around and stared up at the girl chimp sitting beside Mrs. Riley. Thinking the attention was for her, the lady simpered and waved. But Breck’s eyes were on the animal. And something in his mind roared, Now she’s mocking me!
Instantly he faced front. He willed his hand to stop tapping the program on his knee. Guarded, secure, powerful, he was still victim of a nameless, gnawing fear.
From the bottom of the stairs within the pyramidal structure, Caesar stared up at a rectangle of blinding afternoon sky. The auctioneer’s gavel thwacked three times.
“Sold—to Mr. and Mrs. Van Thal!”
Shackles jingled in the shadows. A handler had fetched Caesar from the individual holding cage where he had found the clothing in which he was to be sold. The handler draped the irons over his own shoulder and adjusted Caesar’s high, tight-fitting collar.
Outside, the auctioneer began again. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, lot eight. Perhaps the finest offering of the afternoon.”
Uneasy in the
“I assembled that data, Morgan. Your summary wasn’t thorough enough. I.Q. has shown a slight rise—but as a result, so has work output of the apes.” The black man smiled a hard smile. “Which I thought the governor might regard as good news for a change.”
Breck returned the smile bleakly, turned and walked to the top of the small, open amphitheatre just beyond the pillars.
The impatient conversation of the well-dressed crowd was instantly silenced. Heads turned. A scattering of applause greeted the governor’s arrival. Breck affixed his politician’s smile, and waved in response as he started down the steps of the center aisle.
The amphitheatre was separated from the wide auction platform and central dais by a thick spike-topped wall of concrete. Near the dais, an auctioneer wearing a lavalier microphone acknowledged the governor’s presence with a smile of greeting. Behind the auction area rose a stark, pyramidal structure of concrete where the latest batch of processed apes was held before entering the arena via a doorway flanked by handlers.
Governor Breck moved briskly down the aisle. Briskness, he felt, was good for his image, but he paused a couple of times to favor an acquaintance with a personal word. One such was an orange-coiffured lady attended by an attractive female chimp.
“Mrs. Riley,” Breck nodded. “It was a shame about Leland’s coronary. Is he still in intensive care?”
Mrs. Riley said that was correct, adding, “But I try not to dwell on it. Mr. Governor.”
“Good for you,” Breck smiled, squeezing her shoulder and hurrying on—but not before he caught an almost human glint of amusement in the eyes of the girl chimp. That damned ape was laughing at her mistress! Or was it only a trick of the slanting sun and Breck’s growing, almost maniacal concern about the simian population? He was momentarily disgusted with himself for permitting a probably unrelated series of suppositions, facts, and incidents to weave an alarming pattern. And yet—he governed this city. Should anything go wrong, no one but Jason Breck would be blamed. His career would be finished. Nothing would go wrong. Prevention tinged with paranoia was preferable to disaster.
At the bottom of the aisle, one of the state security policemen snapped to attention and unhooked a plush rope. The governor took a seat in the first row, immediately behind the spike-and-concrete barrier. Unconsciously, he tapped his program against his knee as his staff settled in the rows behind him.
“Start the bidding,” he called. The auctioneer nodded, rapped his gavel. The gleaming alloy door in the face of the pyramid slid aside as the auctioneer’s miked voice boomed. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re offering an exceptionally fine group today, starting with lot number one, a very strong gorilla thoroughly trained in general security duties, including night watch . . .”
For some reason, Breck swiveled around and stared up at the girl chimp sitting beside Mrs. Riley. Thinking the attention was for her, the lady simpered and waved. But Breck’s eyes were on the animal. And something in his mind roared, Now she’s mocking me!
Instantly he faced front. He willed his hand to stop tapping the program on his knee. Guarded, secure, powerful, he was still victim of a nameless, gnawing fear.
From the bottom of the stairs within the pyramidal structure, Caesar stared up at a rectangle of blinding afternoon sky. The auctioneer’s gavel thwacked three times.
“Sold—to Mr. and Mrs. Van Thal!”
Shackles jingled in the shadows. A handler had fetched Caesar from the individual holding cage where he had found the clothing in which he was to be sold. The handler draped the irons over his own shoulder and adjusted Caesar’s high, tight-fitting collar.
Outside, the auctioneer began again. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, lot eight. Perhaps the finest offering of the afternoon.”
Uneasy in the
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