Congo - Crichton Michael - Страница 11

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there was a case involving a dolphin named Mary, released by a lab technician into the open ocean. The University of Hawaii prosecuted the technician, charging loss-of a valuable research animal. Two trials resulted in hung juries; the case was dropped.

In November, 1978, there was a custody case involving a chimpanzee named Arthur, who was fluent in sign language. His owner, Johns Hopkins University, decided to sell him and close the program. His trainer, William Levine, went to court and obtained custody on the grounds that Arthur knew language and thus was no longer a chimpanzee.

“One of the pertinent facts,” Morton said, “was that when Arthur was confronted by other chimpanzees, he referred to them as ‘black things.’ And when Arthur was twice asked to sort photographs of people and photographs of chimps, he sorted them correctly except that both times he put his own picture in the stack with the people. He obviously did not consider himself a chimpanzee, and the court ruled that he should remain with his trainer, since any separation would cause him severe psychic distress.”

“Amy cries when I leave her,” Elliot said.

“When you conduct experiments, do you obtain her permission?”

“Always.” Elliot smiled. Morton obviously had no sense of day-to-day life with Amy. It was essential to obtain her permission for any course of action, even a ride in a car. She was a powerful animal, and she could be willful and stubborn.

“Do you keep a record of her acquiescence?”

“Videotapes.”

“Does she understand the experiments you propose?” He shrugged. “She says she does.”

“You follow a system of rewards and punishments?” “All animal behaviorists do.”

Morton frowned. “What forms do her punishments take?”

“Well, when she’s a bad girl I make her stand in the corner facing the wall. Or else I send her to bed early without her peanut-butter-and-jelly snack.”

“What about torture and shock treatments?”

"Ridiculous.”

“You never physically punish the animal?”

“She’s a pretty damn big animal. Usually I worry that she’ll get mad and punish me.”

Morton smiled and stood. “You’re going to be all right,” he said. “Any court will rule that Amy is your ward and that you must decide any ultimate disposition in her case.” He hesitated. “I know this sounds strange, but could you put Amy on the stand?”

“I guess so,” Elliot said. “Do you think it will come to that?”

“Not in this case,” Morton said, “but sooner or later it will. You watch: within ten years, there will be a custody case involving a language-using primate, and the ape will be in the witness-box.”

Elliot shook his hand, and said as he was leaving, “By the way, would I have any problem taking her out of the country?”

“If there is a custody case, you could have trouble taking her across state lines,” Morton said. “Are you planning to take her out of the country?”

“Yes.”

“Then my advice is to do it fast, and don’t tell anyone,” Morton said.

Elliot entered his office on the third floor of the Zoology Department building shortly after nine. His secretary, Carolyn, said: “A Dr. Ross called from that Wildlife Fund in Houston; she’s on her way to San Francisco. A Mr. Morikawa called three times, says it’s important. The Project Amy staff meeting is set for ten o’clock. And Windy is in your office.”

“Really?”

James Weldon was a senior professor in the Department, a weak, blustery man. “Windy” Weldon was usually portrayed in departmental cartoons as holding a wet finger in the air: he was a master at knowing which way the wind was blowing. For the past several days, he had avoided Peter Elliot and his staff.

Elliot went into his office.

“Well, Peter my boy,” Weldon said, reaching out to give his version of a hearty handshake. “You’re in early.”

Elliot was instantly wary. “I thought I’d beat the crowds,” he said. The picketers did not show up until ten o’clock, sometimes later, depending on when they had arranged to meet the TV news crews. That was how it worked these days:

protest by appointment.

“They’re not coming anymore.” Weldon smiled.

He handed Elliot the late city edition of the Chronicle, a front-page story circled in black pen. Eleanor Vries had resigned her position as regional director of the PPA, pleading overwork and personal pressures; a statement from the PPA in New York indicated that they had seriously misconstrued the nature and content of Elliot’s research.

“Meaning what?” Elliot asked.

“Belli’s office reviewed your paper and Vries’s public statements about torture, and decided that the PPA was exposed to a major libel suit,” Weldon said. “The New York office is terrified. They’ll be making overtures to you later today. Personally, I hope you’ll be understanding.”

Elliot dropped into his chair. "What about the faculty meeting next week?”

“Oh, that’s essential,” Weldon said. “There’s no question that the faculty will want to discuss unethical conduct-on the part of the media, and issue a strong statement in your support. I’m drawing up a statement now, to come from my office.”

The irony of this was not lost on Elliot. “You sure you want to go out on a limb?” he asked,

“I’m behind you one thousand percent, I hope you know that,” Weldon said. Weldon was restless, pacing around the office, staring at the walls, which were covered with Amy’s finger paintings. Windy had something further on his mind. “She’s still making these same pictures?” he asked, finally.

“Yes,” Elliot said.

“And you still have no idea what they mean?”

Elliot paused; at best it was premature to tell Weldon what they thought the pictures meant. “No idea,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Weldon asked, frowning. “I think somebody knows what they mean.”

“Why is that?”

“Something very strange has happened,” Weldon said. “Someone has offered to buy Amy.”

“To buy her? What are you talking about, to buy her?”

“A lawyer in Los Angeles called my office yesterday and offered to buy her for a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

“It must be some rich do-gooder,” Elliot said, “trying to save Amy from torture.”

“I don’t think so,” Weldon said. “For one thing, the otter came from Japan. Someone named Morikawa-he’s in electronics in Tokyo. I found that out when the lawyer called back this morning, to increase his offer to two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?” Elliot said. “For Amy?” Of course it was out of the question. He would never sell her. But why would anyone offer so much money?

Weldon had an answer. “This kind of money, a quarter of a million dollars, can only be coming from private enterprise. Industry. Clearly, Morikawa has read about your work and found a use for speaking primates in an industrial context.” Windy stared at the ceiling, a sure sign he was about to wax eloquent. “I think a new field might be opening up here, the training of primates for industrial applications in the real world.”

Peter Elliot swore. He was not teaching Amy language in order to put a hard hat on her head and a lunch pail in her hand, and he said so.

“You’re not thinking it through,” Weldon said. “What if we are on the verge of a new field of applied behavior for the great apes? Think what it means. Not only funding to the Department, and an opportunity for applied research. Most important, there would be a reason to keep these animals alive. You know that the great apes are becoming extinct.

The chimps in Africa are greatly reduced in number. The orangs of Borneo are losing their natural habitat to the timber cutters and will be extinct in ten years. The gorilla is down to three thousand in the central African forests. These animals will all disappear in our lifetime-unless there is a reason to keep them alive, as a species. You may provide that reason, Peter my boy. Think about it.”

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