Congo - Crichton Michael - Страница 15

6. Departure

THE HINGED NOSE OF THE BOEING 747 CARGO JET lay open like a jaw, exposing the cavernous, brightly lit interior. The plane had been flown up from Houston to San Francisco that afternoon; it was now nine o’clock at night, and puzzled workers were loading on the large aluminum travel cage, boxes of vitamin pills, a portable potty, and cartons of toys. One workman pulled out a Mickey Mouse drinking cup and stared at it, shaking his head.

Outside on the concrete, Elliot stood with Amy, who covered her ears against the whine of the jet engines. She signed to Peter, Birds noisy.

“We fly bird, Amy,” he said.

Amy had never flown before, and had never seen an airplane at close hand. We go car, she decided, looking at the plane.

“We can’t go by car. We fly.” Fly where fly? Amy signed.

“Fly jungle.”

This seemed to perplex her, but he did not want to explain further. Like all gorillas, Amy had an aversion to water, refusing to cross even small streams. He knew she would be distressed to hear that they would be flying over large bodies of water. Changing the subject, he suggested they board the plane and look around. As they climbed the sloping ramp up the nose, Amy signed, Where button woman?

He had not seen Ross. for the last five hours, and was surprised to discover that she was already on board, talking on a telephone mounted on a wall of the cargo hold, one hand cupped over her free ear to block the noise. Elliot overheard her say, “Well, Irving seems to think it’s enough.

Yes, we have four nine-oh-seven units and we are prepared to match and absorb. Two micro HUDs, that’s all… Yes, why not?” She finished the call, turned to Elliot and Amy.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Fine. I’ll show you around.” She led him deeper into the cargo hold, with Amy at his side. Elliot glanced back and saw the chauffeur coming up the ramp with a series of numbered metal boxes marked INTEC, INC. followed by serial numbers.

“This,” Karen Ross said, “is the main cargo hold.” It was filled with four-wheel-drive trucks, Land Cruisers, amphibious vehicles, inflatable boats, and racks of clothing, equipment, food-all tagged with computer codes, all loaded in modules. Ross explained that ERTS could outfit expeditions to any geographical and climatic condition in a matter of hours. She kept emphasizing the speed possible with computer assembly.

“Why the rush?” Elliot asked.

“It’s business,” Karen Ross said. “Four years ago, there were no companies like ERTS. Now there are nine around the world, and what they all sell is competitive advantage, meaning speed. Back in the sixties, a company-say, an oil company-might spend months or years investigating a possible site. But that’s no longer competitive; business decisions are made in weeks or days. The pace of everything has speeded up. We’re already looking to the nineteen-eighties, where we’ll provide answers in hours. Right now the average ERTS contract runs a little under three weeks, or five hundred hours. But by 1990 there will be ‘close of business’ data-an executive can call us in the morning for information anywhere in the world, and have a complete report transmitted by computer to his desk before close of business that evening, say ten to twelve hours.”

As they continued the tour, Elliot noticed that although the trucks and vehicles caught the eye first, much of the aircraft storage space was given over to aluminum modules marked “C3I.”

“That’s right,” Ross said. “Command-Control Communications and Intelligence. They’re micronic components, the most expensive budget item we carry. When we started outfitting expeditions, twelve percent of the cost went to electronics. Now it’s up to thirty-one percent, and climbing every year. It’s field communications, remote sensing, defense, and soon.”

She led them to the rear of the plane, where there was a modular living area, nicely furnished, with a large computer console, and bunks for sleeping.

Amy signed, Nice house.

‘‘Yes, it is nice.’’

They were introduced to Jensen, a young bearded geologist, and to Irving, who announced that he was the “triple B.” The two men were running some kind of probability study on the computer but they paused to shake hands with Amy, who regarded them gravely, and then turned her attention to the screen. Amy was captivated by the colorful screen images and bright LEDs, and kept trying to punch the keys herself. She signed, Amy play box.

“Not now, Amy,” Elliot said, and swatted her hands away.

Jensen asked, “Is she always this way?”

“I’m afraid so,” Elliot- said. “She likes computers. She’s worked around them ever since she was very young, and she thinks of them as her private property.” And then he added, “What’s a triple E?”

“Expedition electronic expert,” Irving said cheerfully. He was a short man with an impish quick smile. “Doing the best I can. We picked up some stuff from Intec, that’s about all. God knows what the Japanese and the Germans will throw at us.”

“Oh, damn, there she goes,” Jensen said, laughing as Amy pushed the keyboard.

Elliot said, “Amy, no!”

“It’s just a game. Probably not interesting to apes,” Jensen said. And he added, “She can’t hurt anything.”

Amy signed, Amy good gorilla, and pushed the keys on the computer again. She appeared relaxed, and Elliot was grateful for the distraction the computer provided. He was always amused by the sight of Amy’s heavy dark form before a computer console. She would touch her lower lip thoughtfully before pushing the keys, in what seemed a parody of human behavior.

Ross, practical as always, brought them back to mundane matters. “Will Amy sleep on one of the bunks?”

Elliot shook his head. “No. Gorillas expect to make a fresh bed each night. Give her some blankets, and she’ll twist them into a nest on the floor and sleep there.”

Ross nodded. “What about her vitamins and medications? Will she swallow pills?”

“Ordinarily you have to bribe her, or hide the pills in a piece of banana. She tends to gulp banana, without chewing it

“Without chewing.” Ross nodded as if that were important. “We have a standard issue,” she said. “I’ll see that she gets them.”

“She takes the same vitamins that people do, except that she’ll need lots of ascorbic acid.”

“We issue three thousand units a day. That’s enough? Good. And she’ll tolerate anti-malarials? We have to start them right away.”

“Generally speaking,” Elliot said, “she has the same reaction to medication as people.”

Ross nodded. “Will the cabin pressurization bother her? It’s set at five thousand feet.”

Elliot shook his head. “She’s a mountain gorilla, and they live at five thousand to nine thousand feet, so she’s actually altitude-adapted. But she’s acclimated to a moist climate and she dehydrates quickly; we’ll have to keep forcing fluids on her.”

“Can she use the head?”

“The seat’s probably too high for her,” Elliot said, “but I brought her potty.”

“She’ll use her potty?”

“Sure.”

“I have a new collar for her; will she wear it?”

“If you give it to her as a gift.”

As they reviewed other details of Amy’s requirements, Elliot realized that something had happened during the last few hours, almost without his knowing it: Amy’s unpredictable, dream-driven neurotic behavior had fallen away. It was as if the earlier behavior was irrelevant; now that she was going on a trip, she was no longer moody and introspective, her interests were outgoing; she was once again a youthful female gorilla. He found himself wondering whether her dreams, her depression-finger paintings, everything-were a result of her confined laboratory environment for so many years. At first the laboratory had been agreeable, like a crib for young children. But perhaps in later years it pinched. Perhaps, he thought, Amy just needed a little excitement.