Interzone Science Fiction and Fantasy Magazine #223 by TTA Press Authors Read Free Book Online Page A

all."
    Mullen clicked the presentation closed; the spider faded to the splash screen of the lexical analyzer's Japanese manufacturers, a single, radially symmetrical green mon on a white background. In response, 2308 hissed softly and became more pastoral in colour, a single blob of green pigment wobbling on her yellow neck and head like cupric oxide slag floating on molten copper.
    "She's got track marks here,” said Mullen. “Needle marks that haven't healed. Leonor, these legs look like a heroin addict's."
    "I have to check the blood sugar always in the neck or leg,” explained Leonor. “The insulin injections too. I am not allowed to damage the hide."
    "Of course,” nodded Mullen. “That would be totally unacceptable."
    Leonor scowled and busied herself with the impressive array of charts on the desk beside 2308's cage. Mullen bent down close to the bars, looking into the unfathomable eyes.
    "I hope you don't imagine,” she said, “that I am any sort of white knight. I am a cognitive psychologist, and it is my job to torture animals that are on the wrong side of mankind's current designated threshold of nervous complexity by cutting their nervous systems apart and watching what parts twitch. I'm not allowed to do it to monkeys any more in most countries, but sea slugs and squid are still fair game. The white coats you've met so far are just geneticists—they're child's play. But my research—every part of my research—involves identifying those parts of you that make you hurt, and hurting you in them. Still feel you want to be intelligent?"
    2308's skin still glowed emerald, like a crocodile-shaped chunk of kryptonite.
    "Now would be a really good time,” said Mullen, “to tell me everything I've ever thought about telepathy was foolish pessimism."
    2308 hissed as softly as burbling surf.
    * * * *
    The monitor at one end of the office—large, German-made, expensive—was split into two halves. The first showed 2308 in her cage, head up, attentive. The second showed an image of an oak tree, and the oak tree's number in the analyzer's image library. 2308 blazed green in response, maintaining one golden jewel of yellow pigment on her head, directly between her eyes. Did she have a parietal eye in that position? Had anyone bothered to check?
    The image changed; a mare and foal, walking together. 2308's skin brightened to a buttermilk yellow, and the parietal dot separated into two green halves. Just as she had done after every slide change, she exhaled contentedly like a steam train venting.
    The image changed; a clutch of eggs. The green returned, and 2308 broke out in large gold spots.
    "What is the purpose of the slides?” said Captain Alencar.
    "Just to elicit a variety of vocal responses. Initial results are not encouraging. She has only one response, and no matter how much I turn the tolerance up on the analyzer, I cannot split that sound into more than one. Adult crocodiles make more noises than that. If your lab assistant thought 2308 was talking to her, she probably thought her cat, her dead grandma and the Archangel Michael were too."
    "Oh, she was quite mad,” said De Santana. “Delusional.” His eyes gleamed with perhaps a little bit too much anticipation.
    "...so I'm going to switch to sign language,” said Mullen. “We've had more success with that in non-vocalizing species. Dolphins and parrots are all very well, but not everyone has a good singing voice. Chimps can't vocalize, but they can learn sign language at rates comparable to human beings."
    De Santana objected. “But the Kenyan court reports clearly say neither of your two chimp subjects were ever able to talk to each other . They were only ever able to talk to you and your team—"
    "Kong and PG Tips were only ever brought together once, by the authorities who ran their respective zoos, on an American TV show. You might be interested to know that that TV show was sponsored by the Kenyan company that wanted to destroy the wildlife