The Main House of Estate Levain has a huge library with at least six tall bookshelves with a total of over one thousand books on various subjects. Since the Levain had been organized, books have been retrieved from various libraries, from old school libraries to the biggest library in Paris. Most of them are archived away in fireproof metal boxes, but some of them were added to the collection in this library.
Charlemagne, the Alphas of Alphas of the Levain and Their Tributary Clans, sits on a leather seat inside the library reading a book, his feet resting on a footstool. The room has a large window which allows natural light to illuminate the area.
"Ah, young master," says Virgil, walking into the room. "How are you feeling?"
"Nice to relax," replies the mandrill. "To be here, after traveling around the Levain turf."
"An Alpha must know what is going on in his turf," says the orangutan.
"Milo was happy to hear that more young apes are learning the simpler ways of toymaking, in addition to reading and writing and the plus and times tables. All Alphas in Tribute have a copy of plus and times tables. There is something I have noticed while reading."
"And what is that, your Majesty?"
"I read some of the Toymaker stories."
"Stories, young master?"
"I feel that we need to understand how Toymakers thought, not just how to make or fix toys. Their stories are those of talking mans."
"Mans," says Virgil. "That reminds me. Pasdefourrure's babies are quite healthy, according to the caretakers. Perhaps we can give them to some of our Alphas in Tribute as gifts in a few years."
"Yes," replies Charlemagne, smiling at a memory. "He even let me hold them. Still, Toymaker books have stories about talking mans."
"Toymakers loved animals. They have drawings of animals. They have stories about talking animals, like what you read."
"Almost all of them are of talking mans. I mean, I found a story about a pack of talking wolves."
"Oh, yes," interrupts Virgil. "It was a fine story. I really..."
The Alpha of Alphas holds up his left palm. "Almost all Toymaker stories were of talking mans. Mans who talked like apes, thought like apes, prayed to God like apes," he says. "The only way this is so, why the Toymakers make almost all of their stories about talking mans, were if the Toymakers were talking mans."
Virgil stays silent for a while. "Yes, your Majesty," says the orangutan, in a subdued tone. "The Toymakers were talking mans."
"Did my father know?"
"Yes, he did."
"Then...then my grandfather, Genghis Khan, was raised by a man, a talking man. A man in the image of God. A man who breathed the Divine Breath."
"That is right, young master. From writings found here, that man was named Arthur, and he was from the Levain family, a powerful family in this part of the world. He raised your grandfather Genghis Khan, read to him, taught him."
Charlemagne presses his back against the back of the leather seat. "What happened to the Toymakers?" he asks. "Why don't mans talk?"
"We did collect some papers," answers Virgil. "Some of the last Toymaker writings. It appeared that the Toymakers changed the Divine Breath."
"Like the Divine Breath all apes have?" asks the Alpha of Alphas, his eyes widening. "But how?"
"The Toymakers wanted more than to have the image of God, to have the Divine Breath. They wanted to be God. They added things to the Divine Breath to try to get Godhood. They made it dirty. They broke it. So God took the Divine Breath away."
"I see. And He gave the Divine Breath to apekind." Charlemagne stands up and walks on the carpet of the Main House Library. He looks out the window, seeing the grounds of Estate Levain, the support buildings and the fruit orchards and the vineyards and the greenhouse as well as the green pasture grounds for the Estate's equine herd, with many of the horses- without Sir Lancelot- nibbling on the grass. "We need to tell this to our people. Teach out least our Alphas in Tribute this history, of where we came from, the origins of simianity."
"We should not, my young master."
Charlemagne looks at Virgil. "Speak wisely, my mentor," he says.
"It would cause a panic. Imagine waking up one morning unable to talk, unable to think, being down to the level of man or wolf or bear, losing everything that makes you simian. If the people knew that could be taken away, that they could lose their...apeness, their simianity, they would panic. They would fear it much more than death. Please, young master, heed my counsel."
Charlemagne sits in the leather chair. The Alpha of Alphas is lost in thought about what he had deduced, and what Virgil had told him.
Ooooooo
950 Years Later
The electric motors move the escalator steps down. On one of the escalator steps are two bonobos, a male and a female. The female wears a pretty red dress, while the make wears a fine black jacket and fine trousers and a blue collared shirt
"Such a lovely evening," says the female bonobo, whose name is Claire.
"The evening is just getting started," says the male bonobo holding her hand, whose name is Marcel.
They reach the ground level of the outdoor promenade shopping center in downtown Paris, located right across a major avenue from the bank of the Seine River. They walk along shops, many of them closed, that typically offer all sorts of goods, from cooked foods to fine clothes to the latest in electronics to furniture. A few stands are open, and merchants offer late night snacks from potato chips and crackers to hot dogs to tacoes to French dip sandwiches served in split baguettes. Some bars and grills are still open, with televisions on showing cable and satellite channels. Automated teller machines allow apes to quickly withdraw cash. It is not as packed as it would be on a weekend, but this bonobo couple does not work the typical five day week.
They walk a couple of meters to a stand, where gorillas in uniform stand. Marcel looks at one of them, who wears black trousers, a white shirt, a black necktie around the collar, and a red vest.
"My ticket," says the bonobo, taking out a piece of paper.
"Right away, sir," replies the gorilla. Another gorilla grabs a key from thew rack and walks off.
"I have the afternoon shift at the zoo clinic tomorrow," says Claire. "That means we can be up all night."
"I look forward to it," replies Marcel. He knows that Claire is a veterinarian at the zoo, specializing in treating man. "and why go out for a drink when there is wine in the fridge.?"
He hears something beep and feels something vibrate near his chest. Reaching into his jacket, he pulls out his smart cellular telephone. Entering his password with his index finger and unlocking it, he sees he had just received a text message.
"What is it?" asks Claire.
"It's Ulysse," answers Marcel.
Claire recalls that ape, having met him more than once. "What does he want?"
"He wants to meet me tonight, alone."
"Tonight?" asks Claire. "this is our date night."
Marcel looks at the screen of his smart phone. "This is important," he says. "I know what this is about, and I must meet him."
"Just like you had to fly across the Atlantic to poke around in the ruins of a buried city for two months?" protests Claire. "I've been waiting for this night forever and now you want sneak out in the middle of the night to talk to Ulysse?"
"I wish I could say something. You know my interest in unlocking the secrets of our past. Much of ape history has been chaotic those early years."
"Then you have to make it up to me, Marcel! And I don't mean spending the day at the racetrack, or even a night at the casino at the Clan Louie Reservation."
"Then what do you mean?" asks Marcel.
"The Bahamas," says Claire. "Two weeks. The biggest, luxurious suite you can find. We will take time off and we will go to the Bahamas and we will stay in luxury."
"That's a lot! You know how much I spent to fix my car last month."
"Then tell Ulysse you can't make it, and we continue the night."
Marcel looks at the message on his phone. "I'll take us to the Bahamas, and stay in the finest suite, for two weeks," he says.
"Sir, ma'am?" says a red-vested gorilla with gray fur. "You car is ready."
"Thank you," says Marcel, taking the key. He removes a bill from his leather wallet and places it inside a plastic cylinder which has other bills and coins, as tips for the valet parkers.
Marcel and Claire get inside the blue car, which is on. They close the doors and fasten seat belts. Music from a satellite radio station is playing. Adjusting the mirrors and glancing at the mirrors and looking behind him, Marcel depresses the brake pedal and puts the gearshift in drive, and then he releases the brake pedal and slowly presses on the accelerator pedal and turns the steering wheel to the left, moving the car away from the curb to go on the road that connects to the main road, joining the downtown Paris traffic.
They drive along the road, behind the red taillights of other vehicles from cars to buses and the occasional truck. Champagne-colored lights emitted from lamp heads mounted on lampposts line the street. To their right is the Eiffel Tower, lit by electric lights. Visible about ten meters ahead and slightly to the left is an electronic billboard advertising various goods and services from the latest in automobiles and electronics to vacation homes to debt counseling services. They stop at an intersection, and soon when a green left arrow appears on a signal head mounted on a post in the street's median, Marcel makes a left turn to cross a bridge across the Seine. On the lampposts are banners bearing the image of the mandrill known as Henri VI, Alpha of Alpha of the Levain, Heir of Genghis Khan, Teacher of Toymaking, Defender of the Realm, and Protector of Apekind, who reigns from the Palace of Versailles in Paris, Estate Levain just about seventeen kilometers north of Paris, or Chateau Crete de Neige in the Alps.
They reach the other side of the Seine, and continue along the street lined with tall buildings with shops on the ground floor such as clothing stores and diners and grocery stores and pharmacies. They soon reach the roundabout that surrounds the Arc de Triomphe. Marcel steers the blue car to another street. They soon cross an interchange with the motorway that encircles central Paris. Soon, they are driving past auto dealerships. Within a few minutes, they reach a darker, residential area.
Marcel makes a right turn and drives down a street, the lights only coming form the lampposts and a few lights from the apartment buildings lining the street. Marcel parks at the curb, stopping the car behind a light green pickup truck.
"You sure you want to go meet Ulysse?" asks Claire.
"It's important," Marcel replies. "After my meeting with Ulysse, I will work on getting a trip to the Bahamas booked."
Claire kisses Marcel, and then the bonobo leaves the car to go to her apartment. After she enters the front door of her apartment, Marcel puts the car in gear and drives off. The place where he is to meet Ulysse is at least a twenty minute drive, just two kilometers from Orly Airport.
Once again driving between the auto dealerships, he reaches the motorway. The car joins other cars on the motorway, at least three lanes in each direction, lit by lampposts on the sides. He can see the red taillights of the cars going forward, and the white headlights of the cars in the opposite lanes. The car travels at a speed of about ninety kph. There are more billboards advertising products from beer to car insurance to hotels on forty-meter tall poles so that drivers can see them. Marcel passes through some tunnels as the motorway passes through a park. Again, the car crosses the Seine River. After a while, Marcel takes a ramp for the motorway leading to Orly.
This motorway has a slightly higher density of traffic, mostly because of vehicles traveling to and from Orly Airport. Marcel keeps wondering how he would go about planning a trip to the Bahamas, and how much it would cost.
The bonobo sees an overhead sign for the exit he needs. Moving a lever attached to the sterring wheel up to active the right turn signal, he checks his mirror and glances through the passenger-side window, and then moves to the right lane to take the exit. Following a large delivery truck, he traverses the onramp to the street, waiting for the light to turn green before turning left. Marcel drives the car along the road at just over sixty kph, passing alongside the factories and warehouses and office parks near Orly Airport. An aircraft flies just a few hundred meters overhead as it descends to touch down on the runway.
The bonobo can see in the distance the buildings of an indoor mall. Anchored by the department stores Curie's and Zelle's and P.D. Bourbons, the mall caters to middle-class apes,in contrast to that shipping center in downtown Paris where he was just maybe forty minutes before.
He makes a left turn on a street going between a building housing the mall's shops and a parking garage. Just before passing under a pedestrian bridge connecting the garage to the mall, he makes a left turn into the parking garage.
The garage is lit by overhead lamps, and its surfaces are concrete. Only a few cars are parked, most shoppers having gone home.
He drives up the ramps leading to higher levels, having done this before. Eventually, he reaches the floor where the rectangular concrete pillars read P5. He park his blue car, puts the gear in park, sets the parking brake, and presses the button to shut down the car, also shutting down the music from the satellite radio channel.
The bonobo sees a green car, recognizing it and the license plate number. A figure wearing a hat and a trench coat stands near the car.
"Ulysse," calls out Marcel.
"Ah, Marcel," replies the orangutan, stepping forward. He removes his hat and holds a manila envelope. "Inside is a data stick, and a paper with the decryption password. You must understand, my friend, that I could not risk simply sending this data to you online. If we were caught with what is in the data stick, we could both be put under the guillotine.
Marcel smiles and takes the envelope. "Sounds exciting," he says. "What is it about?"
"The true nature of the Toymakers," answers Ulysse.
