At once all the previous occupants of the room-men, chimpanzee, general and the girls — became as one. For the girls, really, had been transmuted or, as nineteenth century English novels would say, de-sexed. They lived and had their joy in the world of men.
They were much more at home with the general than with his wife. At her entrance, they attempted to cover their more salient points with their hands. A chimpanzee could have done it. They couldn't.
Happy Bronstein had been very quiet since the entrance of the bestarred Maguire. But he broke radio silence now. 'Take it easy, Pan,' he said.
Pan turned towards him and winked one eye. It had a monstrous effect, but it soothed Happy's apprehensions.
And then Pan stepped forward, rolling on his bowed legs, his knuckles rapping the floor with every stride. He said, 'My dear, I did it all for you. I knew I could never win you while I remained speechless; and so — I arranged for a miracle.'
With which he puckered up his long, long lips and headed them, direct as a well-aimed bullet — for the lips of the general's lady.
She fled.
Her husband went for his hip, but generals in tropical Class A uniforms do not wear sidearms. So he said that they had not heard the last of this, and followed his mate.
Happy Bronstein went and closed the door after the single star was out of sight. Ape Bates let his breath out, whistling. Flo stopped crying, and slowly the girls let their hands drop to their sides.
But Dr. Bedoian said, 'That magic is out of the night,'' and went to get his jacket and his wallet. He paid the girls off generously — government money— and they dressed silently and were gone.
There were several pints of gin left. Pan Satyrus opened one, took a brief swallow, and put it down again.
'You can't get high twice in a night,' Ape Bates said. 'Nobody can.'
'We were having a good time,' Pan said. 'An innocent good rime. Well, almost innocent. Why should anyone want to spoil it?'
'Welcome to the human race,' Dr. Bedoian said.
Then they went to bed.
CHAPTER SIX
Anthropoid apes can become literally bored to death.
Morning brought Mr. MacMahon and his merry men from Naval Intelligence, NASA security, the FBI and kindred organizations. It is only in the works of youthful poets that dawn brings harbingers of happiness.
Mr. MacMahon brought an official document.
Happy Bronstein, who had answered the door — he had slept on the couch in the sample room, Ape and Dr. Bedoian had had the beds, and Pan Satyrus had contented himself with an overstuffed chair — went and got Dr. Bedoian, as required by their visitor.
Dr. Bedoian accepted the document in silence; in silence he read it. Then he looked at the FBI agent There was no special expression on Mr. MacMahon's face; duty was duty to him, and no more.
'An hour,' Dr. Bedoian said.
I'll lay transportation on,' said Mr. MacMahon, thus betraying previous service in England or with British officers.
'Do so,' said Dr. Bedoian.
Ape said, 'Happy, get on the horn. Razor, toothbrushes, clean socks — I wear thirteen — clean skivvies, and can they wash and dry our uniforms in a half an hour.' He looked at Dr. Bedoian apologetically. 'We came ashore in what we was wearin'. We wanta look like man o' war's men.'
Happy made no move to phone. 'What's the poop, doc?' he asked. 'We gotta stand a court?'
'The brass — the very highest brass — wants to meet Pan at noon, up the coast.' He held out the orders. Happy took them, whistled, and handed the sheet to Ape. Ape took it and whistled, more slowly. He said, 'Belay them orders, Happy.' He went to the phone himself, put in a long distance call. 'Gimme Chief Sadowski,' he said, after barking various extension numbers at various people. 'Pipe it to his quarters, he ain't on deck yet. Chief Bates callin'.' He held the phone dreamily away, stared at it. 'Ski, this is Ape. Now get this, an' get it right, or your old lady hears about Singapore, an' this time I ain't just yappin'. Class A tropical uniform for me, about an inch bigger in the waist than last time I saw you. Yeah, and I made E-9, get the stripes right. Okay, an* a suit of whites for a Radioman First, about five nine, a hunnered-eighty. Got it? Yeah, an' a suit of civilians, tropical weight, anything in a nice light color, about five-ten — whatya weight, doc?'
Dr. Bedoian stared. 'I take a forty, regular,' he said.
'He takes a forty regular. Good quality, we'll pay yuh when we see yuh. How you been, Ski? You made E-8? I always knew there was a future in the Navy.' He cleared his throat. 'Well be at your place in two hours, no more'n three. Right.'
He hung up. 'Ski'll come through. Wisht I had my ribbons, but we can pick some up at the PX there. Okay, Happy, the horn. Add shoe polish to the order. Brown for the doc.'
Pan Satyrus was huddled in his big chair, caressing the thumbs of his feet. 'They don't feel any different,' he said. 'I'd hate it if they'd turn human, like my tongue has. If this is the way people feel in the morning, chimpanzees ought to be grateful every day of their lives.'
'Well get some cold orange juice into you, perhaps some aspirin, and you'll feel better,' Dr. Bedoian said. 'You have a hangover.'
'I've heard of them,' Pan Satyrus said. 'Keepers talk of nothing else on Sunday morning… I wish I'd gone on just hearing about them.'
'It creates a problem,' Dr. Bedoian said. 'The chimpanzee reaction to aspirin is quite different from the human. Which are you?'
'My toes are still chimpanzee,' Pan Satyrus said, 'but my head and stomach feel different than they ever have before. But I suppose that's the hangover. I don't think my body has retrogressed. Or devoluted. Or whatever it is.'
He somersaulted over the back of the chair and shuffled into the bathroom. They heard a deep sigh of relief. 'Not a hair missing from my face,' he said. 'I'm glad. I don't want to be human.'
'Aren't you curious about our orders?' Dr. Bedoian asked.
Pan Satyrus shuffled back into the room, carrying a dry towel with which he was giving himself a vigorous rubdown. 'I presume from the reaction we are going to meet some very important men. I have met some very important men. Scientists and generals, admirals and senators. Which are these?' 'Political figures,' Dr. Bedoian said. 'Statesmen.' 'Your disclosure has done nothing for my hangover,' Pan Satyrus said. 'Absolutely nothing.' He tossed the towel in a corner, and began combing his coat with his fingernails. 'Have any of you been to Africa?'
'Capetown,' Happy said. 'Port Said. Nothing in between.'
'Do you realize I have never seen chimpanzees living in a state of natural chimpanzeeship?' Pan Satyrus said, 'It comes over me when I am melancholy, as at present. Do you think if I tell these people what they want to know that they'd take me back to Equatorial Africa? That's where we came from, you know. Perhaps my father is still there.'
'Who was your father?' Dr. Bedoian asked.
'I don't know, really. My mother was pregnant when they — captured her. She never liked to talk about the old days, in the jungle. Chimpanzees can't stand much unhappiness, you know.'
'Better lay off the gin, then,' Ape advised. 'Try rum.'
Pan Satyrus said, 'Isn't there a word, teetotaller? It is what I feel like becoming.'
'Never swear off while you got a hangover,' Happy said.
