Something tapped against the glass.
It had been only two days since she began her part-time job with the philosophy department - this day being spent in peace, with a book in her hand, and a pleasant lack of personal interaction. Aside from an unexpected check-in from the chancellor the day prior, who had determined that her albeit brief presence might be reassuring the staff, there seemed to be few other interruptions here that could bring a book down from under Myka's nose. This was every bibliophile's dream, and unbelievable too; a quiet place where one was paid to sit, read, and perform minimal obligations to retain their job.
The chancellor had gathered the overseers of the exhibit in the supervisor's room, the one in which Myka now sat, with its long glass wall between those inside and the exhibit room, and she had given a short speech entailing all the critical buzz words and pacifying phrases of reassurance that one could muster.
"In light of the recent incident - which was truly harrowing, and I extend my deepest sympathies to Mr. Aaron Lau for whom we wish for a complete and quick recovery - we are calling for the creation of a special task force, comprised of select staff, students, and community members, whose objective will be the thorough investigation and documentation of the events that transpired here two weeks ago. By March of next year, they will submit a full investigative report on the precise sequence of events that led to-"
The chancellor stood with her back toward the glass wall as the exhibit caretakers, the newest of which was Myka, faced her in a cluster between the sparse furniture in the room, all with thinly veiled discomfort at their intimate proximity toward one another. Myka's soon-to-be desk, a massive multi-tiered thing of metal, blockaded the room on one side, and on the other, five widescreen television monitors were mounted on the wall, in no logical or practical pattern, with ten smaller tv sets haphazardly strewn upon a table beneath them. Small pieces of tape with names scribbled onto them were stuck onto each of the ten sets. All screens displayed live black and white security footage of various locations around the facility.
Two hours prior to the chancellor's address, Myka had a hurried briefing with Aaron, who although he was no longer physically working in the department, he was a benefit-receiving employee whose allotted medical leave had just expired, and thus was required to resume his less strenuous duties. Having no forewarning as to this obligation, he was forced to meet with Myka for an impromptu information session, in a doctor's office on campus, as a nurse slowly pulled the stitches out from his mangled finger.
"The job's not too bad," Aaron said. He sat on the edge of the exam table, leaning on his left hand, as the nurse slathered the other with antiseptic fluid. Myka was told he was a graduate student, though he seemed to be on the older side, as far as they went. He still appeared to carry himself, and conduct himself, in a sort of carefree, college student way, and despite the current circumstances, he was overwhelmingly nonchalant.
"Mr. Lau, are you sure this meeting is...appropriate?" Myka asked. Her eyes began wandering down the length of his arm toward the collection of tiny stitches, though she quickly caught herself, and suddenly felt the need to sink down into the armchair opposite Aaron.
"Yeah, sorry about that," he said with a scowl, "If it makes you feel any better, I'm on plenty of painkillers, so I can't feel a thing."
"Oh, fantastic," Myka said, leaning back slowly against the cushion, lights dancing in her vision.
"You can't really blame the kids for acting out," he began. The nurse picked up a small pair of metal scissors from the operating tray, and turned toward his hand. Myka made a point of maintaining rigid eye contact with Aaron.
"Kids," she repeated, incredulously.
"Yeah, we're not supposed to get close to them, but you work alone with them all day and you realize how much they're like children. Loads of fun sometimes, but damn rowdy."
"And what do I need to know?" Myka asked, fingers contracting around the armrest, as a faint snip came from the direction of Aaron's hand. She curled her lips inward, feeling how dry they'd suddenly become.
"You can start by learning their names. The girls are Cepria, Neandra, Florence, Antessa, and Lucy. The boys are Heidelberg, Rudolf, Guster, Eric, and Pete."
"And Lucy's the one that..." Myka's voice faltered.
"Yeah," Aaron's features tensed, in apparent pain. Myka shot a quick glance at his hand to ascertain if the something had gone awry, just as a thin thread was pulled out of the skin above his knuckle. Apparently not. "Poor girl. I wished they'd done something about her earlier, it wouldn't have gotten this bad. It's a weird situation they're all in," Aaron gave a small shrug. "Eight came from a breeding program just for the exhibit, so they're tame and easy to manage, but Lucy and Pete were rescues from backyard zoos. Lucy's never gotten on well, but Pete's...shoot, how do I even begin with Pete?"
Myka watched, thoughtfully, as Aaron looked down at his left, intact hand, and he began tapping and curling its fingers in a slow pattern. "I almost fainted after Lucy acted out and the other chimps all started fighting. I mean, it was bloody. I couldn't stand up, which was probably for the best since they wouldn't find me threatening as a lump on the ground," Aaron let out a dry laugh, "But he stayed with me and just, watched me. He even asked me if I still liked them afterward, because he was worried I'd hold a grudge against him or something." The man was leaning forward now, with a sort of childlike amusement in his expression, and any pretense of an instructional meeting had since then vanished. Though, there was hardly a sense of professionalism to begin with.
The nurse pulled back gently on Aaron's shoulder. "Can you keep your back straight? Just one more, and we'll be done," he picked up the forceps and leaned over Aaron's hand again.
"Pete signs?" Myka cut in, a faint urgency in her voice.
"They were all taught to sign, but Pete caught on the fastest. It's a shame none of them are actually literate, though. He's got a lot going on in his head," Aaron added.
Myka nodded silently, her gaze growing distant.
"And there you are," the nurse said, dabbing a last bit of antiseptic on Aaron's fingers, before tossing the cotton ball lightly into the trash. He peeled off his gloves and motioned for Aaron to stand. "I'd recommend that you stay away from sharp-teethed primates for a while. People included," he gave a quick wink. "You don't sound so lucky, though, ma'am."
"I'll be fine," Myka rose from her chair and offered her left hand for Aaron to shake. "I'll keep my distance."
The tapping continued.
Myka had been thoroughly absorbed in the novel in her hands, though the persistent noise finally persuaded her to lower her book from her face, and swivel in her chair toward the glass. She was, in theory, supposed to be checking the television monitors at regular intervals, though today was a non-viewing day, and the chimps were free to wander through their part of the facility without any structured exhibition. The other side of the glass was the typing room, the main attraction and only room visible to the public, who viewed the exhibit through the opposite glass wall and could consequently see through to the supervisor's office on the other side. Connected to the typing room on one of the solid sides by a remotely operated door was the playroom, and from there, the ten separate rooms for each of the chimps branched off. Each of the smaller tv sets was linked to a camera in these rooms, and the last time she checked, most of them had been napping in their separate chambers. Only one door connected the worlds of the two, embedded in the wall opposite the playroom door and visible from Myka's vantage point, which led to an exam room. One chimp, perhaps Heidelberg, had been in the typing room, sitting idly on one of the desks and picking through his leg hair.
Myka was unaware of how much time had passed since this check-up, but now one of them, a male, had come to the glass and was tapping repeatedly with a forefinger to get Myka's attention. Upon making eye contact, the chimp began signing.
Hello. What is your name?
The dexterity with which he articulated the words exceeded that of any of the others she had interacted with. She closed her book and set it down on the desk, and inched her chair toward the glass. Myka had dabbled in multiple languages, having access to all manner of books throughout her childhood, although sign language was among those she had considered most practical and meaningful to her. She had never been a socially-driven child, always choosing to spend her recesses in the school library, and it was there that she met and befriended another bookworm. A girl from the grade above her, Erin, fled into fantasy books as well, though for the purpose of filling her silent world. Myka learned to bridge the gap between their worlds.
She raised a hand slowly, recalling the words she needed. Twenty years ago, her hands would have flown in a flurry of response. It was always easier to understand than to convey.
M-Y-K-A. Are you P-E-T-E?
The chimp on the other side of the glass nodded vigorously. He then asked,
What are you doing?
Myka paused, unclear of what words she should respond with, which were of course dependent upon his current level of understanding - whether she should say "sitting," "working," or "talking to you," whether he just wanted to learn the words for the actions themselves, or carry on a simple, chimp-level conversation.
He answered her internal questions with another tap on the glass, pointing toward the desk, upon which was her book. She glanced back at him with apparent surprise, to which he repeated the question, and pointed again. This word, she could never forget.
Reading.
The chimp repeated the word back at her a few times, hands unfamiliar with its pronunciation, and she signed it again as he watched. He then added another word,
How?
Myka raised her hands, but lowered them again without speaking, suddenly at a loss for how to explain something so basic, and so essential to her existence. She glanced toward the tv monitors, eyes vacantly scanning the footage. No one seemed to be out of place - the other eight chimps had returned to their rooms, and were all curled up in their separate sleeping places, stuffed toys in arms. The tv set with "Lucy" scrawled on its blue tape label showed a room absent blankets, towels, toys, and chimp.
Myka's hands did not move.