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Copyright © 1999 by Shane Tourtellotte

First published in Analog Science Fiction and Fact, May 1999


"Thank you all for coming," Frank Pierpont said, greeting each of the four scientists in turn. "You know how much this means to me, the opportunity to finally prove something I've known my whole life."

Gorillas had been speaking by sign language for twenty-five years now, but narrow-mindedness still barred public acceptance of their intelligence. Doubters droned on about mimicking humans, reading trainers' body language, or any other excuse that would deny the palpable truth.

Pierpont had the answer. He had contacted four scientists from diverse fields, tutored them in the sign language Joe used, and brought them here to speak with him. Under controlled conditions, with disinterested skepticism, no doubt they would confirm what he knew. Their conclusion would be the turning point in his lifelong crusade.

"We are glad to be here," sociologist Sachiko Omizake said, offering Pierpont her hand, "and wish you the best of luck."

"Thank you. Ah."

His assistant, Mary, led in the guest of honor. Joe was a large male, five hundred pounds, with a matted black coat turning to red at his crown. Despite ferocious appearance, he walked in calmly at Mary's beck.

Frank quietly signed to Joe, who hunkered down on the floor and signed back. "He understands you'll be talking to him, and that I'll come if he wants me. Everyone have your earpieces in? Then we'll step outside, and you can have your conversation."

He and Mary slipped through the door, into the next room with the two-way mirror. Frank slipped on a headset. Joe would get no clues from him, but he could interact with the scientists, and watch the fruition of his lifelong work.

Garnet Wynn, the astrophysicist, started. "Are you pleased to meet us?" she gestured.

Joe scratched his head for an anxious moment. Then, "New people. Four. Like people." Behind the mirror, Frank sighed.

"Do you like the people who live with you, teach you?"

"Frank good. Very funny. Like Frank. Like Remy."

"Remy's another assistant," Frank explained through his mike. "He works mornings, so he isn't here now." He switched off. "Didn't know he thought I was funny, but it's working."

They kept questioning Joe. Brett Hanson, the anthropologist, signed him to "Look behind you." Joe scooted around to face the mirror. Hanson had to whistle to turn him back around. "What is behind you?"

"Glass. Strong Joe in glass."

Frank beamed. "Self-identity. Oh, good Joe. You're showing them."

Wynn and Hanson took to conferring in whispers, as Omizake posed a question. "What activities do you enjoy most?"

Joe gestured vigorously. "Like eating. Many fruits. Big fruits. Like fruits, like nips."

Frank keyed his mike. "Some of you may know, we gave Joe a Yorkshire terrier two years ago, named Nipper. Joe calls him Nips sometimes."

A momentary unease lifted from the scientists, Omizake in particular relaxing. She was about to ask about the dog, but Joe continued to sign.

"Remy brings melons. Holes. Drink nips from melons. Funny."

The whispers stopped, then became audible. "I can't be understanding that right."

"A gorilla that drinks? I don't even have friends who drink anymore ..."

Frank had his headphones off. "He said he was scooping out the seeds. Mary, call Remy in, now."

Back inside, psychiatrist Carla Bermudez had kept her composure. "Joe, do you get to be with other gorillas?"

Joe swiped at the floor. "Other gorillas, no talk. Others only like me. No girls."

Bermudez froze, mouthing the last word with distaste. "No female gorillas?"

"Excuse me." Mary made her way through, heading for the nearest telephone.

"Mary girl, too skinny. Fun talk, fun play, but no--" Joe's gesture wasn't part of his vocabulary, but nobody there had trouble comprehending.

The room fell still. Joe tilted his head, wondering. There was no gesture or sound until Bermudez threw up her hands. "I've seen enough," she said, and walked out, her earpiece still in.

The others started removing theirs, but Frank Pierpont waylaid them before they could depart. "What's wrong? What--" He signed Joe to stay, then interposed himself between the door and the nearest panelist. "Doctor Wynn, explain this reaction."

"Explain? You explain this elaborate hoax. You obviously coached that creature to regurgitate the most outrageous statements. Insensitive, mocking--I hope you enjoyed your prank. The board of inquiry won't."

She pushed him into the wall and stormed past. "Prank?" he said, stunned.

Omizake walked up, shaking her head. "Really, who would believe such things of an innocent creature? Certainly not an eminent feminist psychiatrist, or an alcoholic's ex-wife."

"B-but his responses--your other questions--you can't doubt--"

"And put that display before the scientific community as evidence?" She turned her eyes. "We'll be in touch, Mister Pierpont," she said in parting.

Frank almost chased her, but instead went to Brett Hanson in desperation. Hanson's eyes were glazed, turning back every few seconds toward Joe. "Alcohol ... sexual predation ..."

"Doctor Hanson, please."

Hanson wandered past, heaving a crushed sigh. "They must not be as intelligent as we thought."


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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