Conquest of the Planet of the Apes - Jakes John (читать книги без txt) 📗

The policeman’s grip turned Armando’s fear to total panic. Bellowing, he jerked away from the others with one savage effort.

Armando windmilled his arms, fighting for balance. But the force of his forward movement was strong, violent. He felt chilly wind on his cheeks, lost a slipper, realized that what was so cold against the sole of his foot was the terrace flagging . . .

The policeman reached him first, closing a fist on the lapel of Armando’s filthy maroon jacket. Armando clawed at the man’s face, pulled away—and heard the fabric tear.

Off balance again, he ran backwards. The small of his back struck something hard. His momentum carried him over the concrete railing.

The lighted high rises tilted and blurred as he fell straight down toward the pavement of the Civic Center, screaming.

TEN

A day’s duty in the Command Post beneath the Civic Center Plaza revealed to Caesar that here indeed was the nerve center of the metro complex.

The huge, brightly illuminated room served as the government’s sensory system. Human beings manned a vast array of computer terminals, message boards, and video monitors that not only kept routine track of conditions in major public areas, but interconnected with state security substations, fire equipment bunkers, hospitals, and similar installations.

The place was constantly noisy with voices and chattering machinery. Alarm bells rang frequently. Quite soon, Caesar understood the full scope of Governor Breck’s ability to maintain order in the city under his charge.

A percentage of the incoming alarms and outgoing responses dealt with situations in which the citizens were obviously served. An attempted robbery resulted in the almost instant deployment of squads of policemen. A flash fire sent crews roaring through the nearest service tunnels aboard silver-and-yellow pumpers. An incident of ape rebellion, or even simple misconduct, produced a barked order for the dispatch of a police team of the appropriate size and strength.

When less urgent, or perhaps confidential, messages required delivery, some of the chimpanzees, orangutans, and gorillas assigned to the Command Post were used for delivery service. Caesar, however, was given a more menial job.

After being fitted with a civilian defense armband—more than half the apes down here wore them, he noted—he was taken by a staff supervisor to a semicircle of computer terminals. There, he was shown how to file stacks of the printout material.

A large file room adjoined the Command Post. The file fronts were color-coded. Red-tabbed printouts went into red wall files, blue into blue, and so on. It was idiot’s work, but Caesar pretended to have a little difficulty learning the basic routine so that later, as he moved slowly through the aisles, feigning perplexity but in reality observing the various work functions, he would not be too closely scrutinized.

MacDonald departed after observing Caesar’s first few minutes of instruction. He promised the staff supervisor that he would return later that night, after he attended a civic banquet with Governor Breck, to check on the progress of the new “volunteer.”

So that was the significance of the arm bands, Caesar deduced. Extra duty. Service to the state, over and above the regular work of many of the apes, whose slow pace Caesar matched with little effort.

His mind constantly sorted and analyzed the incoming sensory data. Not all the apes were working here in addition to laboring for human masters. Aldo, who came and went frequently with message pouches, wore no armband. Caesar therefore decided he was on permanent assignment.

As he was leaving the file chamber, he saw a new arrival—Mrs. Riley’s Lisa. She wore one of the armbands, so in her case, too, it was slavery piled upon slavery. He gave Lisa a warm look of acknowledgement and admiration as they passed one another. Lisa reciprocated with her soft, round eyes.

During trips to the files, Caesar assimilated another fact. The Command Post was apparently vital to security and control of the city since it was so heavily patrolled by helmeted policemen. They guarded the entrances and also kept a close watch on the apes.

Late in the afternoon, a gong rang three times. The puzzled Caesar was suddenly prodded by a nearby policeman.

“Go! Stupid ape. Don’t you know when it’s feeding time?”

Stifling his anger, Caesar followed the other animals shuffling down a corridor that led off one side of the Command Post.

In a sort of scaled-down cafeteria at the corridor’s end, the apes filed past counters where female apes handed out rations of fruit, barely cooked meat, and disposable cups of water. The apes ate standing up; there were no benches or tables provided.

On the way back to the Command Post, Caesar saw another corridor branching off the one to the meal room. A glowing sign pointed the way to Staff Messenger Quarters. He imagined sourly what those “quarters” must be—cells or cages for Aldo and his fellows.

Toward ten-thirty in the evening, Governor Breck, MacDonald, Pine, and two other staff assistants appeared at the foot of the stairs to the street. All wore expensive formal wear. Picking up another sheaf of green-tabbed printouts, Caesar watched obliquely as Breck and MacDonald spoke with a staff supervisor—asking about his behavior, no doubt.

The supervisor accompanied the two as they walked toward Caesar. The supervisor seemed to be nodding and smiling.

An electric bell, more strident than any Caesar had heard before, rang four times. Governor Breck glanced up, scowled. MacDonald darted to a nearby terminal that began to chatter and spew out paper.

Carrying his file material, Caesar started in that direction, interested to know what had put such a strained look on MacDonald’s face—and why the black man was staring at him even as he ripped off the first part of the new printout and passed it to the governor.

Breck read, then exclaimed, “I knew it! I knew that goddam circus owner was lying!”

“Apparently Inspector Kolp put out a four-bell because he thought we were still at the banquet,” MacDonald said, tearing off the next portion rolling from the machine. At the words “circus owner,” Caesar had gone rigid.

Moving along an intersecting aisle, Lisa halted and gave him a puzzled glance. He fought to compose his features as he heard MacDonald summarize the new printout. “But they insist he fell to his death accidentally.”

Breck snatched the paper, scanned it, crumpled it in rage. “While trying to escape. He knew dawn well he’d be exposed by the Authenticator.”

Sickened, Caesar absorbed the full impact of what he’d just heard. He weaved from side to side, his eyes closing. Suddenly a hand touched his arm.

He opened his eyes and saw Lisa standing there trying to steady him.

Trembling, he pulled away from her. He knew that Senor Armando must have died trying to protect him.

“—and the reason he feared exposure,” Breck was shouting, “is because that one talking ape is still alive somewhere! Pine!”

Sadness filled Caesar’s eyes as he stumbled toward the file room. He realized he was risking discovery displaying his emotions. He let the pile of filing material slip from his fingers, and forced a grunt of dismay as it scattered in the aisle.

Armando dead—trying to save him. It was too much to bear . . .

Dimly, he grew aware of Breck’s loud voice again. “Mr. Pine, arrange for full distribution of the Achilles list immediately. Copies to each police substation, including the ones on the city perimeter. Details are left to the individual commanders, but I want every ape on the list rounded up and delivered to the Center for reconditioning by 0600 tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Mr. Governor. Are there offenses to be specified?”