The Visitor at the Zoo

IX

THE BIPED awoke. The room was flooded with pale, colorless morning light. He got slowly out of bed, clacking his jaws. What day was this? He could not remember. But what did it matter, anyhow?

He could hear Emma in the office space, already clattering away at the orthotyper. The biped got a drink of water, glanced into his outer room-no one was at the railing as yet, the Zoo was not open so early-then wandered into the office space and sat down at his desk.

The basket was piled with work he had not finished yesterday, but it was only accounting forms. Nowadays they gave him nothing else to do. He picked up the top one, then set it down again without even trying to read it; it was too much trouble.

The female said something in a low voice. In his surprise at hearing her speak, he missed the words.

“What?”

She said, without pausing or looking up from her work: “Do you think you are the only one who is unlucky? I don’t.”

The biped gaped at her. “What do you mean by that?”

“Some others, also, have a difficult life.” She whipped the page neatly out of her machine, added it to the stack beside her. She inserted another page, spaced down, began typing again.

The biped felt vaguely insulted. He snorted. “What do you know about it?”

Before she could reply, the outer door clicked. Emma stopped typing. They both turned to watch Otto come in with his cart. “Breakfast,” said the man gruffly. “Here, take it, eat, don’t waste my time.” He dumped a basket of work on the biped’s desk, then another on Emma’s.

Blinking angrily, the biped picked up his covered plate and carried it into his own room.

What did the creature mean by it? Who was she, to speak to him in that way?

His anger grew; he could hardly eat. He put the plate aside half-finished, went back into the office space. Emma was not there.

He walked aimlessly around for a while, kicking at the gray tiles. Here was the scuffed mark, almost invisible, where Griick had drawn a chalk line across the room. There was irony for you! To protect Emma from him, as if he were some sort of crude beast, whereas in reality it was just the other way around.

He heard a noise, and turned to see the female coming out of her room. She paused. Her hands went to the knob on her head.

“Look here, Emma,” the biped began a little uncertainly.

“You are on my side of the room,” she piped.

“Oh, hang that! What does it matter, any more?” The biped took a step toward her, growing excited. “Look here, just because you’ve lived in a Zoo all your life, I suppose you think-” She snapped something, and moved past him to her desk.

“What was that?” the biped demanded irritably. “Speak up. I said, I have not lived in a Zoo all my life.” The female put on her earphones, rolled paper into the machine, began to type.

“Well, perhaps not in this Zoo, but you were born in a Zoo somewhere, weren’t you?”

Emma glanced up. “I was born on Brecht’s Planet. They came and took me away when I was a baby.” Her typing resumed.

The biped felt he had somehow been put in the wrong. “Well, of course that’s too bad and so forth, but don’t you see the difference?” He began to speak more vehemently, warming to his subject. “My God, I should think it’s obvious enough. Here are you, an animal that’s spent most of its life in one Zoo or another - you’re used to it, you can put up with it. And here am I, a man shut up in an animal’s body, kept in this stinking cage day after day!”

While he was speaking, the female had stopped her work, and now sat looking quietly down at her threefingered hands on the keyboard.

After a moment, she got up from her chair and began to walk past him. Her eyes were closed. The biped saw that her throat was working convulsively.

“Oh, now, wait a minute,” he said, stricken.

She kept on walking. When a desk got in her way, she maneuvered around it by using her hands.

“Look here, Emma,” the biped said, “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings or anything. The fact is, I got carried away. I didn’t mean the cage is actually stinking, it was just an expression.”

The female disappeared into her room. Irritated again, the biped followed as far as the doorway. “Come out, Emma!” he shouted. “Haven’t I said I was sorry?”

Emma did not reply. Although the biped hung sulkily around the office space for hours, she did not come out for the rest of the morning.

“BUT tell me,” Neumann was saying at lunch that afternoon, under the shifting colored lights of the rotunda, “in all seriousness, my dear Griick, what was the truth of the matter? You managed it so cleverly that I am still confused. Is the biped really this Herr Naumchik, or not?”

Herr Doktor Griick laid down his knife and fork, his eyes, turning sober behind their rimless glasses. “My dear Neumann,” he said slowly, “what does it matter? In either case, the result is just the same-we have, as before, two bipeds. One is male, the other female.”

“But if the male was a human being before?”

“Still he is a biped now.” The good doctor stuffed a bite of liver sausage into his mouth and chewed vigorously. “If I take any credit to myself in this whole affair, gentlemen, and really, allow me to say this in passing, my success has been due to the excellent cooperation of my staff-”

“Too modest, murmured Neumann.

“Not at all!” cried Dr. Griick happily. “But if, and I emphasize if, I take any credit to myself, it is precisely because I alone perceived this one small fact from the beginning. Who or what our Fritz was, before, is not of the slightest consequence. If we are to believe the Hindus, our Wenzl here might have been a beetle in some previous incarnation.”

Here Griick paused to let the laughter subside. “But this makes no difference. Beetle or no, at the present moment he is still Wenzl. Our Wenzl understands this, I am confident. As for our Fritz, he does not understand it as yet. But when he does, trust me, you will see a much healthier and more contented animal.”

A gawky young keeper appeared at his elbow, holding out a package. Griick turned in annoyance. “Yes? What is it?”

“Pardon me, Herr Doktor,” said the young fellow, blushing and stammering, “but Freda, that is, your honored secretary, asked me to bring this straight up. She said you would want to see it at once.” Griick accepted the parcel with a humorous shrug and a glance around at the company, as if to say, “You see what my life is!” He turned the parcel over once or twice, glancing at the inscriptions.

All at once he gave a start of interest. “By the packet from Xi Bootes Alpha! From Purser Bang!”

“Excuse me, gentlemen, this really may be important.” He began to tear open the wrappings impatiently. Inside was a sheaf of papers. Griick examined the first sheet intently.

“Yes, the report of the research team on Brecht’s Planet. Now we shall discover something!” He turned a page, then another. Yes, they have dissected three bipeds, a male and two females. …” He fell silent, reading one. After a moment, his jaw dropped in surprise. He glanced up at the curious faces around the table.

“But … it says that the males are females, and the females are males!” Griick frowned. “But it’s impossible!” he muttered.

“What’s that you say?” Neumann demanded. The females are males, and the males females? That doesn’t make sense, Herr Doktor. What, are they hermaphrodites? Then why not say so?”

“No … no …” answered Griick abstractedly, still reading. “My God, we have all made a serious mistake! Just look here, see what it says!” He held out a page, pointing to one paragraph with a thick, trembling finger.

Neumann took the paper, held it to the light and read slowly, ‘The inguinal glands, previously thought to be male gonads, have been found to be without connection with the reproductive system, and their function remains unknown. It has been suggested that they are merely organs of display, analogous to the wattles and comb of the terrestrial cock. However, it must again be emphasized that the bearer of these organs is the female, not the male of the species. It is she who carries the young in a placental sac and gives live birth. Impregnation, however, is achieved by an extremely unusual method. The male gametes are carried in the purplish-red frontal organ which appears in developed form only in the adult male. During rut, the female …’ “Good heavens, Griick, just listen to this …”

FRITZ and Emma were sitting side by side in the cot in her inner room-Emma tensely, with her hands tightly covering her knob, the biped leaning toward her, an arm around her body, speaking earnestly into her ear.

“You know, Emma, that I didn’t mean any harm. You do believe it, don’t you?”

“It isn’t that,” she said in a muffled voice. “It’s the way they all treat me-as if I were only an animal. They say I am not human, and so it is correct to keep me in a cage all my life.” She looked up. “But what is it to be human? I think, I have feelings, I talk. I even type their letters for them, and still it’s not enough.”

Her slender body shivered. “It’s bad enough to hear them talk about me as if I were some creature that couldn’t speak or hear. But when you-”

“Emma, don’t, please,” said the biped, overcome by tenderness and remorse. “Of course you’re right, you’re as human really as any of them. What does it matter if you have a different shape? It’s the mind inside, the soul that counts, isn’t it? Why can’t they understand that?”

She looked up again. “Do you really-”

“Of course,” said the biped, hugging her closer. Warm, new emotions were coursing through him. “Some day they must all see it, Emma. We’ll make them listen, you’ll see. There, Emma. It’s going to be all right. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

She looked up again, timidly. Her body stopped shivering. “Yes, Fritz,” she said.

The biped hugged her still closer. Along with the protectiveness he felt, there was a fierce joy, a sense of rightness. For some moments they did not speak.

“Emma?”

“Yes?”

“We’re really friends now? You’re not afraid of me any more?”

“No, not any more, Fritz.”

“Then why keep your hands over your knob? Isn’t it uncomfortable? Don’t you trust me?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know why … it’s just - Of course, I trust you, Fritz.”

“Well then.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she dutifully lowered her hands to her lap. Her knob was large, purplish-red, and had a faint spicy scent.

“Now isn’t that better? Has anything dreadful happened because you uncovered it?”

“No, Fritz,” she said. She laid her muzzle against his shoulder. “I feel so much better now.”

“So do I, Emma. Oh, so do I. Bursting with emotion, the biped bent his head closer; and with an instinctive deftness which took them both by surprise, he bit her knob off.