Battle for the Planet of the Apes - Gerrold David (книги онлайн полные TXT) 📗

“What would you like?”

Cornelius pointed at his squirrel, “Some special nuts for Ricky. He’s getting bigger.”

Caesar smiled affectionately. “So are you.” He touched his son’s face. “One day you’ll be as tall as a king.”

THREE

The door was impressively stout. Caesar pounded on it loudly. MacDonald and Virgil stood beside him. Caesar pounded again.

“He’s asleep,” commented MacDonald.

“Not eternally, I hope,” said Virgil.

Caesar pounded a third time. Impatiently.

From behind the door came an ancient voice. “Who knocks?”

“Caesar.”

A tiny grille in the center of the door slid back, revealing the wizened face of a very old orangutan with red, rheumy eyes. His voice quavered as he asked, “And what does Caesar want?”

“Weapons.”

The old orangutan peered harshly at the three of them. His name was Mandemus. “For what purpose?” he demanded.

Caesar nudged Virgil at that. Virgil stepped forward. “For self-protection in the pursuit of knowledge.”

“Self-protection? Self-protection? Against whom or what?”

“We don’t know,” said Virgil.

“Hmp,” said Mandemus. “Then what is the point of protecting yourself against a danger of which you have no knowledge while you pursue a knowledge you do not possess?”

At this, MacDonald rolled his eyes heavenward. “Oh, no!”

Mandemus continued implacably. “Is this knowledge for good or evil?”

Virgil answered without hesitation, “All knowledge is for good. Only the use to which you put it can be evil.”

“The sun is rising,” said Caesar. “I should like to settle this matter before it sets.” He fidgeted impatiently.

Mandemus protested vehemently. “Caesar, you appointed me not only as the keeper of this armory but as the keeper of your own conscience. That is why I have asked six boring questions. And now I will ask a seventh before I decide whether to issue the weapons you think you require. What is the nature of the knowledge you cannot seek without weapons?”

MacDonald spoke then. “The knowledge of Earth’s ultimate fate, recorded on tapes in the archives of the Forbidden City . . .”

Caesar added, “. . . which is contaminated, but may still be inhabited by humans.”

Mandemus considered this. He chewed it over thoughtfully, pursing his lips and creasing his forehead in concentration. At last he decided. “Come in,” he said. He released the bolt and pushed the heavy door aside for them to enter.

Inside, there were boxes of weapons and ammunition—all kinds, all sizes, salvaged from the great uprising. They were piled high in crates stacked against the walls—a mountain of madness and savagery that belied the peacefulness of Ape City. The room was lit by flickering lamps; they were upright wicks burning in small bowls of oil. MacDonald flinched when he realized. This armory was an explosion looking for a time to happen. But the apes would rather risk the destruction of their whole city than ever allow electricity to be wired into their homes. Electricity was too much a human thing; the apes identified it too much with the human cities and the time of their oppression. Worse, they associated it with the electrical cattle prods that had been used to condition them. But still . . . MacDonald shuddered, there must be a safer way to light the armory.

Caesar was moving around the cases, inspecting and frowning. Mandemus followed, waving his keys and gesturing. “Well, what is it Caesar needs?”

Caesar said without looking up, “Three machine guns.”

Mandemus dropped his keys. “Three machine guns?”

“And ammunition,” added MacDonald.

“For the removal of obstacles,” put in Virgil.

Mandemus picked up his keys, muttering to himself. “Three machine guns. And ammunition. For the removal of obstacles.” He looked from case to case, from pile to pile, from wall to wall, from dump to dump. “I don’t really hold with this. Searching for knowledge. Learning the future. I don’t even want to know my own, which will be brief.”

“And a Geiger counter,” said Virgil.

Mandemus didn’t hear him. He muttered on as he led them to the appropriate cases. “I mean if we knew for a fact that there was an afterlife and that the afterlife was bliss eternal, we’d all commit suicide in order to be able to enjoy it. But if there were an afterlife, what would be the purpose of this life? Except maybe to provide a place for us to earn the afterlife? But why must we earn an afterlife? Shouldn’t we live this life for its own sake?”

Caesar, Virgil, and MacDonald ignored him. They had heard his incessant philosophizing before and had learned to ignore it. Mandemus babbled like a brook without saying anything. He was out of his time.

As Caesar and Virgil began unpacking the machine guns and ammunition, MacDonald thought of something else. “Pistols,” he said.

Mandemus turned to him, eyeing him sharply. “For the removal of smaller obstacles?”

“This is a three-day journey,” said Virgil. “With Caesar’s permission, MacDonald may want to shoot, cook, and eat a rabbit.”

MacDonald looked up sharply at this. Did Virgil know about his secret meals with Doctor and Teacher? Did Caesar know?

Mandemus snorted. “Who needs three pistols to shoot one rabbit?” He took a single Smith & Wesson out of a box and tossed it to MacDonald. A pack of ammunition followed. “Here. Enjoy your meal.”

The old orangutan bowed to Caesar then and ceremoniously ushered the trio out the great door, slamming it behind them. Mandemus didn’t disapprove of weapons. He only disapproved of their use.

MacDonald commented wryly, “He may be old, but he has a mind like a razor.”

Virgil agreed. “When I was a child, he was my teacher.”

Caesar rumbled in his throat. “Enough. Let’s get going.” And the three moved off into the predawn darkness, not noticing that behind them the old orangutan was watching through the grille in his door. His face was skeptical, and his simian features were pursed in disappointment. Shaking his head sadly, he clanged the peephole shut and turned back to his armory.

The gorillas were the guardians of Ape City. It was the closest they could come to playing war. They built and manned their outposts and pretended they were important.

They didn’t really care about Ape City, but they did care about being strong and fierce. And if the only way that they could be strong and fierce was to become the protectors of Ape City, then they would protect Ape City with all the fervor they could muster.

But for nine years there hadn’t been a single threat against Ape City. None at all, aside from a few natural disasters. There had been an earthquake once, but it had been a little one; nothing had been broken. There had been a couple of floods, and once a landslide, which had ruined half an orchard. But there had never been the threat against Ape City that had required the gorillas to stand up and fight.

No armies of men had ever come rolling across the desert from the Forbidden City, threatening with guns and fire and electric cattle prods. No hordes of hungry savages had ever attacked, not even a pack of marauding rebel apes. The gorillas were ready for a fight, but there was nothing to fight. The nine years would probably stretch into ninety. Or nine hundred.

The result was boredom. The gorillas had long since forgotten their original vigilance. They sat around the fires of their outpost, grumbling and picking at their fur, looking for fleas. They snorted and grumbled and cursed, pretending that they hated being out there in the cold night. But not one of them wanted to go back to Ape City, where the skinny little chimpanzees and the pale and effete orangutans were in charge. Out here, at least, gorillas could be gorillas. Out here they didn’t have to bathe every week, as Caesar commanded the other apes. Out here they didn’t have to practice their reading and writing. Out here they could play at war.