said Reade, irritably, ‘”Who’s not going?”
Andrew subsided, thinking deeply. Then, with a flash of inspiration, he turned to Reade. “John, who owns the Society’s test animals?”
Reade rubbed his forehead. “Nobody, I guess. They sure won’t bother shipping a few dogs and chimps out to Venus! I’ve got authority to release them—I guess I’ll turn them over to Medic. Why? You want a dog? A monkey? What for?” He stopped in his tracks, glaring. “What bug have you got in your brain now?”
“Never mind. You’re going back to Earth by the next ship.”
“Don’t be in such a rush,” Reade grumbled, “The Erden-luft won’t blast for a week.”
Andrew grinned. “John, those animals are pretty highly organized. I wonder—”
Reade’s eyes met his in sudden comprehension. “Good lord, I never thought of that! Come on, let’s hurry!”
At the deserted shack where the Society’s animals were kept, a solitary keeper glanced indifferently at Reade’s credentials and let them in. Reade and Andrew passed the dogs without comment, glanced at and rejected the one surviving goat, and passed on to the caged chimpanzees.
“Well, either I’m crazy or this is it,” he said, and listened for that inner answer, the secret intruder in his brain. And after a long time, dimly, it came as if Kamellin could not at once reestablish lapsed contact.
I should have left you. There is no hope now, and I would rather die with my people than survive as a prisoner in your mind.
“No!” Andrew swung to face the chimpanzee. “Could you enter that living creature without his consent?”
There was a tightness across his diaphragm, as if it were his own fate, not Kamellin’s, that was being decided.
That creature could not give consent.
“I’m sorry, I tried—”
Kamellin’s excitement almost burst into speech. No, no, he is perfectly suited, for he is highly organized, but lacking intelligence—
“A chimp’s intelligent—”
A shade of impatience, as if Kamellin were explaining to a dull child; A brain, yes, but he lacks something—will, spirit, soul, volition—
“A chimp can be taught to do almost anything a man can—”
Except talk, communicate, use real reason. Yo« cannot entirely grasp this either, I know. It was the first time Andrew had been allowed to glimpse the notion that Kamellin did not consider Andrew his complete equal. The banshees are the first stage: A physical brain, consciousness, but no intelligence. They cannot be organized. Then your creature, your primate mammal, intelligence but no soul. However, when vitalized by true reason. . . . Kamellin’s thought-stream cut off abruptly, but not before Andrew had caught the concept, What does the Earthman think he is, anyhow?
Kamellin’s thoughts were troubled; Forgive me, I had no right to give you that. . .
“Inferiority complex?” Andrew laughed.
You do not function on the level of your soul. ‘You’re aware almost exclusively in your five senses and your reasoning intelligence. But your immortal mind is somehow stunted: You humans have slid into a differed time-track somehow, and you live only in three dimensions, losing memory—
“I don’t believe in the soul, Kamellin.”
That is the point I am trying to make, Andrew.
Reade touched his shoulder. “You give me the creeps, talking to yourself. What now?”
They picked out a large male chimp and sat looking at it while it grimaced at them with idiotic mildness. Andrew felt faint distaste. “Kamellin in that thing?”
Reade chuckled. “Quit being anthropomorphic. That thing is a heck of a lot better adapted to We on Mars than you are—look at the size of the chest—and Kamellin will know it, if you don’t!” He paused. “After the switch, how can we communicate with Kamellin?”
Andrew relayed the question, puzzled. Finally he said, “I’m not sure. We’re using straight thoughts and he can’t get any notion of the -form of our language, any more than I can of his. Reade, can a chimp learn to talk?”
“No chimp ever has.”
“I mean, if a chimp did have the intelligence, the reasoning power, the drive to communicate in symbols or language, would its vocal cords and the shape of his mouth permit it!”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Reade said, “I’m no expert on monkey anatomy, though. I wouldn’t bet against it either. Why? Going to teach Kamellin English?”
“Once he leaves me, there won’t be any way to communicate except the roughest sort of sign language!”
“Andy, we’ve got to figure out some way! We can’t let that knowledge be lost to us! Here we have a chance at direct contact with a mind that was alive when the city was built—”
“That’s not the important part,” Andrew said. “Ready, Kamellin?”
Yes. And I thank you eternally. Your world and mine lie apart, but we have been brothers. I salute you, my friend. The voice went still. The room reeled, went into a sick bluer—
“Are you all right?” Reade peered anxiously down at Andrew. Past him, they both realized that the big chimpanzee—no, Kamellin!—was looking over Reade’s shoulder. Not the idiot stare of the monkey. Not human, either. Even the posture of the animal was different.
Andrew—recognized—Kamellin.
And the—difference—in his mind, was gone.
Reade was staring; “Andy, when you fell, he jumped forward and caught you! No monkey would do that!”
Kamellin made an expressive movement of his hands.
Andrew said, “A chimp’s motor reflexes are marvelous, with a human—no, a better than human intelligence, there’s practically no limit to what he can do.” He said, tentatively, “Kamellin?”
“Will the chimp recognize that?”
“Look, Reade—will you remember something, as a favor to me? He—the chimp—is not a freak monkey! He is Kamellin—my close personal friend—and a damned sight more intelligent than either of us!”
Reade dropped his eyes. “I’ll try.”
“Kamellin?”
And Kamellin spoke. Tentatively, hoarsely, mouthily, as if with unfamiliar vocal equipment, he spoke. “An—drew,” he said slowly. “Shein. La. Mahari.” They had each reached the extent of their vocabulary in the other’s language. Kamellin walked to the other cages, with the chimpanzee’s rolling scamper which somehow had, at the same time,
