CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I must now admit that I adapted myself with remarkable ease to-the conditions of life in my cage. From the material point of view, I was living in perfect felicity: during the day the apes attended to my every need; at night I shared my litter with one of the loveliest girls in the cosmos. I even grew so accustomed to this situation that for more than a month, without feeling how outlandish or degrading it was, I made no attempt to put an end to it. I learned hardly any new words of the simian language. I did not continue my spiritual nature, had no doubt since yielded to Zaius’ opinion and regarded me as a man of her planet, that is, an animal: an intelligent animal, perhaps, but by no means an intellectual one.

My superiority over the other prisoners, which I no longer exercised to the point of startling the warders, made me the most brilliant subject in the establishment. This distinction, I am ashamed to admit, sufficed my present ambitions and even filled me with pride. Zoram and Zanam were friendly toward me, taking pleasure in seeing me smile, laugh, and pronounce a few words. Having exhausted all the classic tests with me, they racked their brains to invent other, more subtle ones, and all three of us made merry whenever I discovered the solution to a problem. They never forgot to bring me some tidbit, which I always shared with Nova. We were a privileged couple. I was fatuous enough to believe that my mate was aware of all she owed to my talents, and I spent part of my time showing off in front of her.

One day, however, after several weeks, I felt a sort of nausea. Was it the gleam in Nova’s eyes, which had seemed to me that night particularly lacking in expression? Was it the lump of sugar that Zira came to give me that suddenly acquired a bitter taste? The fact is that I was shamed by my cowardly resignation. What would Professor Antelle think of me, if he chanced to be still alive and found me in this state? This thought soon became unbearable, and I forthwith made up my mind to behave like a civilized man.

While’ stroking Zira’s arm by way of expressing my thanks, I snatched away her notebook and fountain pen. I braved her gentle remonstrances, sat down on the straw, and started a drawing of Nova. I am a fairly good draftsman and, being inspired by the model, managed to turn out a reasonable likeness, which I then handed to the she-ape.

This promptly reawakened her emotion and uncertainty about me. Her muzzle became red and she peered at me closely, trembling slightly. Since she made no further move, I again calmly seized her notebook, which this time she yielded to me without protest. Why had I not thought of this simple solution before? Mustering my school-day memories, I drew the geometrical figure illustrating the theorem of Pythagoras. It was not at random that I chose this proposition: I remembered reading in my youth a prophetic book in which such a procedure had been used by an old scientist to enter into communication with the spirits of another world. I had even discussed this during the voyage with Professor Antelle, who approved of the method. He had added, I distinctly remembered, that the Euclidean rules, being completely false, were no doubt for that very reason universal.

In any case, the effect it had on Zira was extraordinary. Her muzzle went purple and she gave a sharp exclamation. She did not recover her composure until Zoram and Zanam came up, intrigued by her attitude. Then she reacted in a way that I found extremely odd—after darting a furtive glance at me, she carefully hid the drawing I had just completed. She spoke to the gorillas, who then left the hall, and I realized she had sent them off on some pretext or other. Then she turned back to me and took my hand, the pressure of her fingers having quite a different significance from when she flattered me like a young animal after a successful trick. Finally she handed me the notebook and fountain pen with an air of entreaty.

Now it was she who appeared eager to establish contact. I gave thanks to Pythagoras and embarked once more on my geometry. On one page of the notebook I drew to the best of my ability the three conic sections with their axes and centers: an ellipse, a parabola, and an hyperbola. Then, on the opposite page, I drew a right circular cone. Let me remind the reader that the intersection of such a body by a plane produces one of the three conic sections, depending on the angle of the cut. In this case I drew the figure to illustrate an ellipse, then, reverting to my first diagram, pointed out the corresponding curve to my astonished she-ape.

She snatched the notebook out of my hands and in turn drew another cone, intersected at a different angle, and pointed out the hyperbola with her long finger. I felt such intense emotion that tears came to my eyes and I clasped her hands convulsively. Nova whimpered with rage at the far end of the cage. Her instinct did not deceive her as to the meaning of these demonstrations. It was a spiritual communion that had just been established between Zira and me through the medium of geometry. I derived an almost sensual satisfaction from this and felt that the she-ape was also deeply moved.

She broke free with a sudden jerk and rushed from the hall. She was absent only a few minutes, but during this time I remained lost in thought without daring to look at Nova, about whom I felt almost guilty and who turn her back on me with a growl.

When Zira came back she handed me a large sheet of paper fixed to a drawing board. I thought for a second or two and made up my mind to deliver a decisive blow. In one corner of the sheet I sketched the system of Betelgeuse, as we had discovered it on our arrival, with the giant central body, and its four planets. I marked Soror down in its exact position together with its own little satellite; I indicated it to Zira, then pointed my forefinger at her repeatedly. She signaled to me that she had understood completely.

Then in another corner of the sheet I drew our dear old solar system with its principal planets. I indicated the Earth and pointed my finger at my own chest.

This time Zira was slower to understand. She, too, indicated the Earth, then pointed her finger upward. I gave an affirmative nod. She was flabbergasted and her mental turmoil was plain to see. I did my best to help her by drawing another dotted line between Earth and Soror and marking in our vessel, on a different scale, on the trajectory. This made her see the light. I was now certain that my true nature and origin were known to her. She was about to draw closer to me but at that moment Zaius appeared at the end of the corridor for his periodical inspection.

A look of terror came into the she-ape’s eyes. She quickly crumpled up the paper, put her notebook back in her pocket, and, before the orangutan had reached us, placed her forefinger on her mouth with an air of entreaty. She was counseling me not to show myself in my true colors to Zaius. I obeyed her without understanding the reason for these mysteries and, convinced that I had an ally in her, promptly resumed my intelligent animal attitude.