Leaves rustled in the distance. Jane pulled back the branch in front of her, peering down into the valley below. She looked at her two scientist companions, the young, stubble-bound Iranian man and the lean, dark-haired French woman, who were both looking decidedly uncomfortable standing beside Will in their khaki hiking gear.
“Let me get this straight,” Jane said, “You put stem cells – human stem cells, and human organs – inside a bunch of monkeys.”
“Chimpanzees, technically,” the guy, Pejhman, corrected, “And bonobos.” Jane stared at him with an expression of incredulous disbelief, causing him to blush and shut up.
“Chimpanzees and bonobos,” she repeated, her words back‑of‑the‑freezer frosty, “Dozens of chimpanzees and bonobos, which you crammed full of human DNA. And gave brain transplants.”
“There was some unintended growth in the cerebral cortex,” the female scientist, Vanessa, protested, “But we didn’t actually transplant any brains-”
“Grew a bunch of super-monkey brains in a bunch of human-DNA-coded monkeys, who have since gone rogue and…” she stared at them, incredulous, “…grown superpowers.”
The two scientists hung their heads in what Jane sincerely hoped was shame.
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Superpowered monkeys.”
“I’m afraid so.”
In the middle of the Madagascan rainforest, overlooking a distant research facility from which there came the far-off sounds of hooting and the occasional screech or explosion, Jane Walker leaned back, put her gloved hands on her hips and let out a long, exasperated chain of profanity.
“That’s not necessary,” Vanessa grumbled.
“Shut it,” snapped Jane, jabbing a finger at her, “Shut your stupid, super-monkey-making hole.” She turned to Will, who was struggling not to laugh.
“I told you we had a big day,” he shrugged.
“Unbelievable. Absolutely goddamn un-” more swear words, “-believable.” She rounded on the scientists. “So what do you want me to do? Are they actually intelligent? Do I…” she pinched the bridge of her nose and sucked in a ragged breath, “…I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, do I have to go down there and negotiate with a society of intelligent super‑monkeys?”
“The brain growth isn’t stable,” Vanessa insisted, nodding with an enthusiasm which was both unnerving and completely inappropriate, “Their cells are degenerating. All throughout their bodies. A month from now they’ll all be dead from cancer, but in the meantime, we don’t know… um…”
“Right, if they’ll go Planet of the Apes or full Simon West.” Jane squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the beginning of a one hundred percent non-physical headache. “Good, well, you’re under arrest, you’re both under arrest, after all this is over. For cruelty to animals. Or something.”
“They were lab grown primates!” Pejhman protested as Vanessa stammered in with, “But under Madagascan law-”
“I literally do not care,” Jane interrupted. She pointed an accusing finger at the scientists. “This is, quite possibly, the stupidest thing I’ve ever had to do. You go all science-happy gene-splicing, and now I’ve got to go down into the jungle and murder a bunch of super‑monkeys. Somebody – somebody! – is going to get punished for this, so help me God. I like monkeys!” Jane threw up her hands. “I actually like monkeys! They’re fluffy and clever and my Mom was a wildlife photographer-”
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Unfortunately, the rest of Jane’s recollections about her mother were forever lost, for at that exact moment the canopy shook, and before any of the humans could react a gigantic chimpanzee came hurtling down from the trees. Fur missing in patches and long, fang-like teeth bared, it careened screeching towards them, a picture of derangement that only moments later grew more concerning as bright red lasers erupted from its eyes.
“Son of a-!” Jane exclaimed, stumbling as red energy slammed into her, staggered but less hurt than stunned. The chimpanzee, obviously used to whatever it looked at being instantly vaporised, continued hurtling towards her, its amber eyes widening and the tone of its hoots changing rapidly as its momentum carried it forward. Jane, her poise quickly recovered, snarled and snapped her arm up, catching the attacking primate on the chin and coat‑hangering it into the dirt. The shrieking abruptly stopped.
Jane stared down at the prone body of the chimpanzee, laying gurgling amongst the leaflitter and the mud.
“Monkeys,” she muttered, incredulous, “Murderous mother-” she swore again, “-monkeys.” She patted angrily at the tendrils of smoke wafting up from her uniform. “Fine. Just… fine!”
Jane rounded on the scientists, her hands balled into fists. “Don’t. Move,” she snarled; and then without waiting another moment she grabbed the stunned laser‑ape by one leg and hurled it like a furry cannonball towards the compound, rocketing off in its wake a moment later in a streak of blazing gold. There was a thud, a crash, some distant screeching – and then a cacophony of hoots began to echo up from the valley floor.
*****
Matt lay back on the lounge with his head facing the ceiling and tried not to think about all the things he wanted to do.
He wanted to go to a party. A real party, with people he didn’t know and people who didn’t know him from television.
He wanted to go to a pizza parlour. He wanted to go to the movies.
He wanted to ride his bike somewhere. Go hiking. Go rollerblading, as if that was something he had ever done. Go skiing even, though he’d only previously been to Aspen twice.
Play basketball, despite never being any good. Go ice-skating, though he was bad at that too. Go to the beach, get sunburnt from being too pale, ick out at waves full of seaweed and recall in person how much he hated sand. Get drunk in someone’s garage. Try to fake ID his way into a bar. Play laser tag. Go dancing. Get high on a hill and gaze up the stars.
He wanted to learn from a professor who he could see and who could look knowingly back at him and make him feel accountable, instead of hiding anonymous and distracted behind a computer screen. He wanted to sit in a classroom and learn in real life, to complain, compare and commiserate with classmates, not feel the edge of his mind and vision blur from hours spent trying to concentrate on a laptop. He wanted his world to be larger than this small, stifling corner, which somewhere between the beginning of his isolation and now had turned from a sanctuary into a trap.
Somehow, going out last night had made things worse. Maybe it had been seeing people, all the build-up, the excitement; but whatever it was, to return now to the same confined existence felt… suffocating. He understood why he needed to stay inside for the time being, he understood that it was for his own good, and that it was the right thing to do. He didn’t dispute Jane’s oft stated and quite rational concerns, nor did he disagree with any particular point. He just wished he could go out. That was it. That was the sum of it.
But it would all be over soon. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not this week, but eventually… surely. The Court case had finished, the interview was done, the truth was out there. Surely his fifteen minutes of fame were close to expiring; surely everyone would lose interest soon. And then, once the excitement died down, Matt could just fade away like any washed‑up celebrity, destined for nothing more thrilling than being question eight in a round of bar trivia. A little more delay, a little more patience – and then normality. Back to all the things he wished he could be doing. Back to what he always meant for. A normal life.
Matt Callaghan lay with his head back on the couch and allowed himself to feel these feelings of despair and injustice, impatience and longing, because even though they weren’t helpful right now they were legitimate, and simply because he was the master of his mind didn’t mean he shouldn’t show his emotions some respect.
Giselle’s voice echoed out over the couch and with a weary sigh Matt dutifully poked up his melancholy head.
“What was that?” he asked, eyes opening.
“They’re on their way back,” the speedster repeated, still over at the dining table. She had been on her laptop doing conference calls with various Academy contacts, organising – who knows, whatever there was to organise for the Legion – talking into a wireless headset, her words quickly slipping past his attention into a pleasant background hum. Matt righted himself and sat back up on the couch, wiping crumbs off his shirt. Gross. Had he showered today? Yes, he thought so, this morning, after Jane’s dumb cardio. Or was that yesterday. Definitely within the last day or two.