As they sped along the winding A-roads toward Paignton, cool autumn air filtered in through the slightly open windows. Vibrant foliage transformed the passing landscape into a blur of fiery reds, burnt oranges, and golden yellows, with arches of trees at times almost enclosing the road. Light melodies from the radio floated through the cabin, blending comfortably with easy conversation.
Rosa stole a glance at Selina, who confidently navigated the twists and turns of the road with one hand on the wheel while the other tapped a rhythm against her thigh. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows that danced across Selina's face, highlighting her usual high-tied ponytail.
“Didn’t know for sure that you’d actually come this morning,” Rosa said.
Selina shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I’m not exactly a zoo person, if that’s what you mean. But honestly, who could resist the allure of VR and typing monkeys? Not many people get to experience that mash-up in the same week!”
“Fair point,” Rosa laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she leaned back in her seat, savouring the warmth of the sun streaming through the windshield. “But I doubt we’ll find any cutting-edge tech here.”
She glanced out the window at the rolling hills, dotted with fat, round hay bales, contemplating what lay ahead, excited by the prospect of unearthing something reassuring from the zoo’s past.
Selina shot her a quick glance. "2003. Ever wonder what people like us were doing while monkeys were recreating Shakespeare?”
Rosa laughed. "Let’s see... I was probably up to my elbows in a lab, analysing DNA samples. And you? Organising protests against school dinners?"
Selina grinned, her eyes staying on the road but clearly amused. "Close. Petitioning for a better school pet; no one wants a boring goldfish. Got me detention more than once. But the way, did you get your computer sorted?”
Rosa sighed as Selina adjusted the air conditioning. “I tried troubleshooting the issue a couple of times, but I kept having to shut everything down. I even disabled R-Gen’s avatar to—”
Selina raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Wait, what’s R-Gen?”
Rosa smiled slightly. “R-Gen - Robust Gateway Enforcer Node. It’s my firewall.”
“Right, so what’s the deal?” Selina asked. “You switched it off?”
“Yeah, I changed it to show packet filtering and stateful inspection. There’s definitely something trying to breach my system, and I can’t risk that. My entire home network - security, climate control, everything - depends on it. If an intruder gets in, they could mess with personal data, security protocols, even the appliances. It’s not just a minor hassle; it could lead to a major disaster.”
Selina chuckled. “R-Gen sounds fancy. Does it wear a cape too?”
Rosa rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “If it did, it would be a digital one - he, uh, it rather, protects my home from digital threats.”
They shared a comfortable silence as the landscape shifted, fields and hedgerows stretching along both sides of the road.
"So," Rosa finally asked, more hesitant, "What do you imagine happened to the monkeys? Do you think any of them might still be alive?. I read that Sulawesi crested macaques can live up to thirty or so years in captivity."
Selina shrugged, her scepticism still alive and kicking. “Honestly? I'd be surprised. It's probably going to be a lot less dramatic than we’re building it up to be. A few lab animals fouling up a keyboard that students tried to turn into something profound. But I admit... part of me is intrigued.”
Rosa smiled, finding a strange reassurance in Selina’s relaxed cynicism. “That’s the thing with you, Selina. Always the sceptic — but never one to let it get in the way.”
Selina rolled her eyes but smiled back. “Keeps life interesting, right?”
After a smooth drive through Devon’s winding countryside, they arrived at Paignton Zoo. Navigating the access roads, they parked in one of the large car parks and made their way through a few off-season visitors toward the main entrance. A large black-and-white sign guided them to glass doors, where they caught the first zoo scents and heard the distant calls of animals through the morning air. Rosa and Selina exchanged a look before heading in.
Inside, they crossed the bright, modern reception area, a contrast to the old zoo they'd half expected. Rosa approached a young man at the desk, likely in his twenties, who blinked in mild surprise as they asked, “We’re hoping to talk to someone about a project from, well… two decades ago. Something involving monkeys and a keyboard.”
The young man scratched his head, glancing at them uncertainly. “Uh… monkeys and a keyboard? Like… playing music?” He frowned, clearly trying to picture it. “I wasn’t around back then, but that sounds... interesting?”
Rosa gave him an encouraging smile. “Not that kind of keyboard. Is there anyone here who might know about it? Maybe someone who remembers the project firsthand?”
He nodded, looking puzzled. “Uh, yeah, I mean, let me just grab my supervisor. She’s, like, way more into all the old projects and stuff. Probably got, like, files or whatever in the archives.” He motioned for them to wait, then disappeared through a door.
Moments later, he returned with a woman in her forties, who greeted them with a warm smile. “I’m Carol. I understand you’re interested in the Monkey Shakespeare Project? Are you with the press?”
Rosa shook her head, offering a reassuring smile. “No, we’re research scientists from SWEPRF. Rosa Baum and Selina Lara.”
Carol’s shoulders relaxed a bit. “Ah, I see. Well, I have come across a few records of that project in the archives. It was... definitely creative! From what I understand, it didn’t lead to much, but it had an artsy sort of charm.”
She paused, as if weighing how much more to share. Selina chimed in, flashing her security pass from the research facility. “We’re legit.”
Carol gave a small nod. “Good to know. Okay, I'll see what… Actually, if you’re looking for someone who remembers firsthand, there's Carl Hammond. He was on staff here back then. He retired a while ago but still lives nearby.”
She seemed relieved that she had come up with something that would save her having to talk in more detail about something so tangential to her normal role. After disappearing for a while, she returned with a scrap of paper scribbled with Carl’s contact information, then added with a grin, “He’ll probably love a visit. Talks about the old days with anyone who’ll listen.”
“I notice,” Selina said, “that Wikipedia says a few animals have escaped from the zoo over the years. Does that include any of the monkeys?”
Carol’s expression shifted subtly, her tone a shade cooler. “Then you'll also have read that they were all recaptured. We run a tight ship here, ladies.“ That looked like a conclusion from Carol as she set off back to her office with a slightly frosty demeanour.
*****
Rosa and Selina were soon parked in a grassy space in the hedge by Carl Hammond’s cottage. Climbing out, they were immediately struck by the unusual atmosphere of the place. The cottage looked almost forgotten by time, nearly swallowed by layers of ivy and adorned with bizarre trinkets - a sun-bleached plastic macaw here, a cracked gargoyle leering from the eaves there, and stained glass wind chimes dangling from a copper beech tree, casting broken, dancing twinkles across the tangled garden below. Statues and relics jutted from the undergrowth, hinting at projects long abandoned. It was hard to tell whether the owner had carefully crafted this effect or just abandoned the place to neglect.
Above, a murder of crows wheeled and soared against the cloudy blue sky, their dark shapes cutting sharp silhouettes across the expanse. Their harsh caws filled the air with a dissonant racket as they circled the trees bordering the property and the tall, ivy-covered wall that framed the garden. At the women’s arrival, some crows lurched up from the garden, feathers flashing as they sputtered and arced overhead like irritable, flapping umbrellas. Others perched in the branches, their beady eyes trained on the newcomers, watching with a keen, unsettling intensity.
As Rosa and Selina made their way to the front door, their eyes kept drifting upward, drawn by the crows’ restless movements. The flickering shadows of wings crossed their path setting Selina’s patience on edge.
“Do they have to make such a racket?” she muttered, casting an annoyed glance skyward as another crow swooped close. “Feels like they’re staging some kind of protest.”
Rosa kept her focus on the door, but Selina gave an exasperated sigh, waving a hand as though to shoo them off. “You’d think they’d have better things to do,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Bunch of feathery nuisances.”
Alarmingly, a figure suddenly emerged from the ivy draped over an archway in the old stone wall, so close that Rosa stumbled back in fear, knocking into Selina. In an instant, the crows erupted, scattering in a mad frenzy, wheeling overhead with harsh, accusing cries, echoing the man’s cold, unwavering gaze.
He stood before them, his face deeply lined, hands gripping a rusted shovel, knuckles white on the handle. For a moment, he examined them, his eyes narrowed to slits as the crows spiralled above in a dark cloud, swirling ominously.
Finally, a low chuckle escaped him, and he eased the shovel to his side, his expression shifting to something faintly amused, though his eyes remained sharp. “Can’t be too careful,” he muttered, his words seeming to carry a quiet, unspoken warning, while a single crow cawed as if in agreement.
Carl inclined his head toward the door, his tone softening just a shade. “So, you’re asking about the monkey typing farce?” His voice was gravelly, laced with suspicion as he looked them over. “The zoo called and warned me you’d be turning up. Press, are you?”
"No," Selina replied, giving him her sweetest smile. "We're both scientists working on a research paper.”
Carl’s hardened stance seemed to waver, his suspicious look lightening. After a beat, he grunted and gestured toward the door. “Fine, come on in then.”
Selina threw a sidelong glance at Rosa as Carl led them inside. “What?" Selina’s mock innocence saying that her sweetness had got them in.
Carl eyed Selina and Rosa as they ducked into the cottage, muttering, “Not much about that monkey business makes sense to begin with - wouldn’t expect any different from those researching 'em.” He beckoned them into a sitting room.
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Inside, the place was a ramshackle time capsule. The main room looked like it hadn’t been tidied in decades, with walls lined by overflowing bookshelves, a faded mustard-yellow sofa, and an assortment of crumpled old newspapers stacked in haphazard piles around the floor. A massive, ancient radio with a knob half-broken off sat on the mantel, crackling softly with a faint AM station, while a collection of wooden monkey figurines stared down from the shelves, each one in a slightly different pose, as if frozen in conversation.
“Hard to forget that project,” Carl grumbled as he gestured for them to sit on the sofa, which creaked under their weight. “Utter farce.”
Rosa leaned forward. “We’ve heard bits and pieces, but I’d love to hear from someone who actually worked with them.”
Carl nodded, folding his arms, his gaze flickering to the monkey figurines. “Well, there were six of them - black crested macaques. Clever little troublemakers. They weren’t your ordinary zoo animals, either. They were, how shall I put it… unusually interested in everything. Curious about things they weren’t meant to touch.” He shot a pointed look at a vintage typewriter on a nearby side table. “The kind that’d notice if a drawer was half an inch out of place.”
Selina leaned in, intrigued. “What exactly did they do?”
He let out a low laugh. “Oh, a bunch of university kids from Plymouth thought they might type… well, ‘patterns,’ I think they called it. Set up a computer, covered it so the macaques couldn’t get at anything except the typewriter bit, and let them loose. The monkeys were quick to catch on, all right, but I doubt Shakespeare would’ve been impressed with the results. Lots of… interesting creative liberties.”
Rosa cracked a smile. “Notes Toward the Complete Works of Shakespeare, right? I’ve actually got a copy. Fascinating stuff.”
Carl gave a half-smile, his fingers drumming on the mantel. “Yeah, ‘fascinating.’ It's all esses. You should’ve seen the mess they made - keys missing, letters jammed. Never seen a typewriter so abused.”
Selina’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Sounds like they had a great time.”
Carl’s face grew sombre, a flicker of something almost haunted crossing his expression. “Maybe too good a time. See, the zoo got restructured a few years after that. We sold those monkeys to some big research organisation. All eco-friendly and that; looking into preservation innovations. They promised they’d be well taken care of, fancy facilities, big enclosures and everything. But... I always had my doubts.”
Without warning, a fleeting dark shadow passed across the back window, catching Rosa’s eye. “Is someone in your garden?” she asked, her voice tense.
“Crows,” Carl replied with a dismissive huff. “They get everywhere.”
Rosa glanced back, unconvinced. The shadow had seemed large for a crow. Her brow clouded, but she let it go. “You didn’t trust the research facility?”
Carl hesitated, staring briefly at his figurines. “Let’s just say… animals like them don’t belong in dodgy institutions, even if they do got fancy primate spaces. But the zoo needed money. Those new buildings and promises seemed real enough, but even now… it don’t sit right.”
Rosa and Selina exchanged a look, a silent question passing between them.
“Do you know where the research facility is?” Rosa asked, trying to sound casual.
Carl leaned back, contemplating. “Yeah, all too well. It’s not far from here, down the industrial part, you can see it from the back, past the trees, near the warehouses. It’s a lot of concrete. They invested heavily in flashy equipment and state-of-the-art tech. But when a place looks like a fortress, you can’t help wonder what’s being covered up.”
Rosa tilted her head. “You think they prioritise profits over animal care?”
“For sure,” Carl replied, nodding. “With that kind of money, it’s easy for ethical treatment to take a back seat. Those animals just be numbers on a balance sheet. Still ‘you can’t fight the beast within,’” he said.
“King Kong?” Rosa recognised the quote.
“Yep, ‘too busy trying to control it to see the beauty in its wildness.’ That's the trouble with folk.”
Rosa felt a knot forming in her stomach. “Thanks, Carl,” she said, her resolve solidifying. Her look at Selina said, “We need to check this out.”
“Do you think any of the monkeys might still be alive?” Rosa enquired, not sure whether to hope or not.
“Don't see why not. They live up round thirty years if they're cared for right,” the old man said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. He leaned over, tugged on the door of a wooden sideboard and rummaged through a cluttered drawer before pulling out a handful of photos. “Here,” he said, handing the first to Rosa.
“This one - ” He turned it toward them, revealing a snapshot of a monkey in mid-swing, poised to smash a keyboard with a large rock, a look of fierce determination in its eyes. “Mischievous little tyke. Little troublemaker had a knack for destruction. Elmo, he was called. Constantly bugging Gum. ”
The next image showed a black macaque draped in an old rag like a makeshift cowl, peering out with a strangely conspiratorial look. “That’s Gum there,” Carl explained, his voice softening. “He liked poking at the typer under that old rag - like it was secret or something.”
Rosa studied the photograph, astounded by the monkey’s ritual. Her dreams flooded back, turning her stomach in turmoil. Carl handed her another photo, and she found herself staring at a dark-furred macaque reaching one arm directly toward the camera, eyes dark with an unsettling sense of purpose. The image triggered a sharp flashback of the previous day’s starlings and Rosa stifled a cry as she saw the diving, swirling murmuration crashing through the glass wall, straight for her terrified face.
Selina noticed her friend's anxiety and decided to shift attention from her. “Did any of the monkeys ever… escape?”
Carl paused, giving her a long, assessing look, seemingly ignoring Rosa's distress, before he nodded slowly. “Zoo must have told you about Ro,” he said. “Clever one, that Ro. Managed to get out a few years back, just before the others were carted off to the facility.” He shrugged, his face hardening. “Even with their long lifespans, this place is too harsh for a macaque. If he got free, he wouldn’t have lasted long.”
Rosa frowned, recalling his earlier mention of their potential thirty-year lifespans. “So, you really think Ro’s gone?”
“Almost certainly,” Carl replied, though his voice softened again, almost wistful. “They live long lives, but not here in deepest Devon, lost and uncared for.
Rosa felt an uneasy knot tightening in her stomach as she looked at Selina. A silent agreement passed between them.
As they were about to leave, Rosa paused, struck with a final question. “Carl, do you remember where the monkeys came from originally?”
His gaze drifted, as if recalling something half-buried. “Actually… yes. We were told they came from a cop shop of all things. Word was, animal activists had broke in and left them there as some sort of protest. Nobody ever found out where they came from before that, I mean, who has half a dozen spare macaques kicking around? They ended up here since we had the space and the knowhow to care for them. I guess we thought it was nonsense at the time, but… stranger things have happened.”
As they walked back to the car, Selina shot Rosa a look, one eyebrow arched high. “A police station, activists, and typing Shakespeare in their spare time? Sounds like those monkeys had a more exciting life me.”
Rosa seemed distracted though, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Right? And then they end up in some experimental research prison?”
Selina rolled her eyes as she buckled in. “Art experiment, my foot. This sounds more like some bizarre reality show. I’m half-expecting Crazy Carl to call us back and tell us we're on camera.”
“Sure, nothing suspicious about any of that. Preservation innovations, you think?”
As they pulled away from the cottage, Rosa's gaze drifted to the big copper beech in the garden. “Did you see that spot under the tree?”
Selina frowned. “What spot?”
Rosa's voice lowered slightly. “The crows were really focused on something there, pecking at what looked like fruit rinds in a trampled-down patch. And, um, there might have been droppings too.”
Selina’s brow furrowed. “What are you suggesting?”
“Might Carl be feeding something?” Rosa glanced at Selina, unease creeping into her voice.
“Badgers or rabbits - not Rowan? No. He’s dead, right? You heard the old nutter,” Selina replied, her doubt wavering as she felt a chill run down her spine.
Leaving the quiet countryside behind, they drove to the stark landscape of the industrial estate, where rows of flat, grey buildings replaced the winding roads and autumn trees. After a few turns past car repair shops, vast storage warehouses, and other remote structures, the research facility appeared loomed - a hulking, concrete fortress shrouded in places by razor wire, windows conspicuously absent.
Selina gave a low whistle. “Ah, yes. The perfect spot for a sanctuary. Really brings out that whole ‘peaceful retirement’ vibe you'd look for.”
Rosa smirked, eyes narrowing as they approached. “What do you think - should we just knock, or go full spy mode and scale the fence?”
“Oh, let’s knock,” Selina replied with a grin. “I’m sure they’d love a couple of scientists dropping in unannounced. Nothing suspicious about that.”
They stepped out of the car, shoes crunching on gravel as they approached the building's main doors. Above the obviously unused entrance, a sign hung ominously: ‘All visitors by virtual appointment only.’ Large padlocks and chains wrapped the handles.
Selina scowled as she read aloud. “Virtual appointment?” Rosa stepped back looking for anything else that might be of interest, whilst Selina stood on her toes and studied the sign noticing a QR code worked into the design. She pulled out her phone and scanned it, a flicker of curiosity dancing in her eyes. “Let’s see what this leads to,” she said, her tone mixing intrigue with caution.
The phone loaded a link that made her pause. “This leads to a tech company called ‘RealityStep,’” she said, suspicion lacing her voice. “They're into ‘neuroinformatics’ and ‘dream-interface technology to create immersive experiences and facilitate Fourth Wall innovations.’ What could a tech company possibly have to do with… whatever this place is?”
Rosa pulled her knitwear tightly about her, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Another layer of this mystery, I guess,” she murmured.
“What kind of place operates like this?” Selina’s voice dripped with suspicion, hand instinctively pulling at the usual loose strand of hair.
Rosa shot Selina a grim smile. “One that doesn’t want to be investigated.” She studied the building, her posture tense, every instinct screaming that whatever lay within was far from benign. A small red LED blinked in a panel beside the doors. “Come on.”
As they ventured off around the perimeter, the surrounding ground was mostly a wasteland of neglect. Ragwort and stubborn weeds pushed through cracked concrete, defying the decay surrounding them. Layers of graffiti covered the walls intermingled with a scatter of stencilled QR codes, many of which had been roughly painted out as if the authorities had been engaged in an ongoing battle with a street artist. The place felt stark, charged with the weight of secrets long buried.
“There's nothing here even faintly like animal pens,” Rosa said, tucking her hands into the pockets of her long, knitted coat-cardigan. “Do you suppose they've moved?”
Continuing their search, the women noticed a peculiar sight. Beneath a neglected doorway, an elaborate web of undulating silk hung like in waves like ghostly veils, shimmering softly in the autumn sunlight. The delicate, gossamer threads intertwined to form a thick curtain, undulating slightly in the breeze.
Selina’s initial enthusiasm mixed with girlish disgust. “Oh wow, look at that! It’s so revoltingly beautiful!” she exclaimed, stepping closer to the doorway, eyes full of wonder. The sun's rays caught the silky strands, creating an almost magical glimmer. “It’s like something out of a dark fairy tale!” she breathed, a smile spreading across her lips as she reached out to touch the edge of the web, her fingers just shy of making contact.
Rosa shivered slightly as she studied the strange sight. “Beautiful, sure,” she said. “Ermine silk moths I think. Careful, it's full of little caterpillars.” She stepped back, intending to move on. The webs glimmered like a natural barrier, their ethereal beauty juxtaposed against the sinister grey concrete of the building.
Her younger companion stamped back out of doorway, picked up a stick and came back. “I don't know what you're expecting to to find,” Rosa said.
Selina, undeterred, leaned into the doorway , squinting at the door behind the curtain of silk. “I want to see what’s in there,” she said, her voice tinged with an adventurous thrill. “There might be something behind that web!” She glanced at Rosa, her excitement palpable. “What? It’s what we're here for?”
Rosa rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile at Selina’s enthusiasm. “Or it could be something worse. You know, like a big, ugly spider.” Selina gave her a scolding look.
“Come on, let’s see if we can move the web aside,” Selina urged, her voice bubbling with excitement. She pushed aside a stretchy stand of silk, determination flashing in her eyes.
Suddenly, in a blur, a sleek black drone dropped from the open air outside, hovering ominously before the building’s doorway with a low hum that jarred the silence. It hung motionless, blocking any escape, its lens fixated directly on Selina, the iris flexing as though scrutinising her very thoughts.
Rosa's heart raced; the thing could be a twin to the drone that had stared into her eyes through the rain-run glass back at the research facility. A shudder ran through her whole body. Selina held her arm, breathing the words, "Rosa - what do I do?"
The air charged with anticipation, each heartbeat echoed in their ears, the drone feeling like a malevolent harbinger of something far darker to come.
“Selina…” Rosa whispered, backing up, her voice barely audible, but before she could finish, a dark, shadowy form lunged from above the doorway. It fell like a wraith of blackness, a thing of night, moving with a speed that left no time for thought or reaction. In an explosive burst of motion, it seized the drone in its skeletal fingers, dragging it down and slamming it against the ground with a clatter that sent plastic and circuits flying into the air. The drone shattered, its components scattering like startled crows.
Only after the dust settled did Rosa and Selina realise they were looking at a black Sulawesi crested macaque, its dark fur bristling with an almost palpable ferocity, eyes glinting with a wild intelligence. The sudden violence of the moment left them breathless, both women frozen in shock at the unexpected savagery.
As Selina span round helplessly looking for a safe escape, she saw that their panicked movements had pulled away a patch of the caterpillars’ silk. Fixed to the the door, a small, weathered red sign could be seen. Rosa squinted over Selina’s shoulder, reading the word, “MASS.”