The Revelations by Erik Hoel (some good books to read TXT) 📗

“Do you have anyone with actual primate experience coming?”

“I sent the research assistant to get the veterinarian on call. But I have no idea how long it will be.”

“Can we wait it out?”

“What’s the actual problem?”

“Fuck, fuck, okay, you know the recording chamber on the top of the skull, where we lower the needle in? Well, you’re supposed to screw the top to a bar above their head so that they can only look in one direction. Otherwise they won’t face the screen and you can’t show them stimuli. But I guess Mars Bars’ chamber got weakened or something. He got so mad. I have no idea why. We’re friends normally. But I’ve been told he can be unpredictable since Double Trouble died. They were cage-mates. Basically he just ripped the entire recording apparatus off.”

“Off his skull?!” Carmen says, horrified.

“It took a good chunk of the skull with it,” Alex says, wincing.

“That’s really not supposed to happen.”

“No shit. The bone could’ve weakened by infection or . . . Anyways, it doesn’t matter why now,” Alex says. “What matters is that there’s an aggravated monkey in there with his brain exposed and literally no top of his skull.”

“Christ. What if he shakes?”

“Shakes?” Carmen asks.

Alex—“When they get mad they like to shake in their chairs. Really hard. And with his skull open and in the shape it’s in . . .”

Kierk tosses Carmen a mask and a lab coat as he and she begin immediately stacking on protective gear, grabbing the chain-mail bite gloves.

Carmen, her voice muffled by the mask—“What exactly are we supposed to do?”

“Alright, here’s the plan,” Alex says. “There’s a sedative that they taught me how to use. For emergencies.”

“Should we wait for the vet?”

“He would just try to do this anyways. And I have no idea how long he’ll be.”

“Don’t they have like a dart gun or something?”

“Oh yeah, Carmen, for taking down all this big game.”

She grimaces. “But we’re adding new people he doesn’t know.”

Alex appears torn. “Listen, he’s been in there alone because I freaked out. He’s gonna start freaking out too if he doesn’t see someone soon, ’cause he’s just stuck there alone and in his chair. Monkeys want people around when they’re in trouble. And Mars Bars is normally just a total fatty who wants food. So the plan is, Carmen, you get the food and the tongs. It’s a bowl of grapes on the left. I try to approach him and calm him and you give me the food. Meanwhile, Kierk, you go for the syringes and the bottle marked ‘Domitor.’ I can’t fill a needle while I’m feeding him to keep him calm. Plus, with three of us, if we’re near enough we might be able to grab him and restrain his head.”

Behind the armor of their personal protective gear both nod.

“Also, when we go in, don’t look him in the eyes.”

“What?”

“Just stare at his forehead. He will freak the fuck out if you look him in the eyes. Alright, we good?”

“Let’s do it.”

They file in wearing their gear. When the door closes behind them the exigencies of the situation become fully apparent. Mars Bars is situated in the back of the room in his see-through glass box/chair next to a screen which is still blinking with stimuli, but he’s twisted around so that he’s facing them, his arms and legs gesticulating from within the box whatever strange emotions are thrumming through him. Above his protruding head is a mechanical strut. The top of the recording chamber is normally screwed into the strut, but now it’s just holding the ripped-away recording chamber itself hanging entirely free of the monkey’s head, off to the side. The fur has kept his face free of blood, but the top of his head is more than scalped. It almost appears to wobble, and when he dips his head slightly there is a literal hole, a curved, gelatinous gap, red at the edges and a darker shadow within, and it is unclear exactly what they are seeing, but during the dip there is a shifting of something inside his skull which causes Carmen to gasp.

Mars Bars’ breathing is a loud wheezing. He’s looking over at them, his hands trapped in the glass box clenching and unclenching over and over. But his face is almost quizzical, like he’s honestly confused about exactly what’s happening, like he’s puzzled why they won’t entertain him or feed him or cart him back to his cage.

Carmen is the first to move, scooting over to the side and grabbing the bowl of grapes—her vision a tunnel, flitting hurriedly on the grapes, the table, her own gloved hand out grabbing the edge of the bowl, another hand to grab the tongs, not looking over at Mars Bars, moving back to Alex, her feet tracking beneath her.

Alex meanwhile has started cooing at Mars Bars, talking to him quietly, while Kierk is scanning the shelves on the other side of the room for the Domitor.

Carmen hands Alex the grapes and tongs, begins backing away.

“Nope,” she says, glancing at the monkey with its exposed scalp, the top part of it all wrong, its eyes darting black marbles, its mouth expressive, but of what?

“Nope,” she repeats. “Nope. I’m going to let you boys deal with this. Nope. Nope.” The door closes behind her and immediately the portal is filled with her face, her mask is pulled down and she’s pointing to the monkey mouthing—Go!

Kierk and Alex look at each other, then back at Mars Bars.

Spotting the Domitor Kierk takes a step toward it but there’s a snake-like hiss now coming from Mars Bars, a strange alien spotlight falling on Kierk, a primitive attention now fixed.

“It’s not working. We’re aggravating him.” Kierk backs up. But Mars Bars growls. Kierk stops. They are both careful to avoid its gaze.

Still, Alex asks—“Kierk, are you looking in his eyes?”

“No!”

Kierk takes a step back but Mars Bars gives another growl and shakes his chair, his head bumping