INTRODUCTION
Daniel Grau Dickmann (1922-2007) was an engineer who wrote three science fiction stories, "Two Specimens for a Museum" appearing in the Argentine magazine Más Allá ("Beyond") (#14, June 1954), "Mystery of the Florida Keys" ("Misterio de los cayos de la Florida") (2002) and Holy Scriptures ("Sagradas escrituras") (2003). In addition to his science fiction output, he translated a volume of Danish philologist and anthropologist Kaj Birket-Smith and co-author of an electrical engineering textbook, "Curso de Electrotecnica: Teórico - práctico" (1946). See Carlos Abraham's "Las revistas argentinas de ciencia ficción" for biographical information and further background on Más Allá.
TWO SPECIMENS FOR A MUSEUM
THE onboard telescope screen flickered gently once or twice, and the rounded image of a planet appeared on one of its borders. Invisible hands at the observation post moved the appropriate controls, and the image centered.
Gathered around the screen, four individuals, seated, followed the image with their eyes.
Burr, organizer of the expedition, enormous and massive, leaned forward. Four rejuvenations maintained his youthful energy at the cost of ever-increasing expansion in his weight and size. The rejuvenation process, enormously expensive, brought about a general reactivation of the cells that resulted in an increase of almost 10 percent in height. Burr hadn't found it inconvenient. This defect in the process had long since been corrected, but three of the earlier rejuvenations left their indelible mark. Burr, on the other hand, found it agreeable. His face broadened, and he believed this lent his physiognomy an air of benevolence and good nature that he originally lacked. His movements necessarily became slower, and this, he thought, lent dignity to his person.
Burr was paying for this expedition. Since his retirement from a life of business, he had no preoccupation other than hunting, hunting zoological specimens on distant planets, capturing exotic animals that would later enrich the collections of gardens and museums on his homeland. His current ambition was to find a valuable specimen, a single and exclusive specimen that would earn him the honor of having his portrait mounted in some room of his country's National Zoological Museum. Perhaps in the Central Hall, among the statues and portraits of scholars and prominent men who contributed most to the progress of science. With all his immense fortune, he wasn't able to buy the honor. Donations, scholarships, and the payment of hunting expeditions hadn't been enough. He no longer dared to think of a life-size statue or bust. He painfully gave up on the idea. With luck... a portrait... with a commendation for services rendered...
Varr, the captain, was evidently the only other person in the quartet who had undergone a previous rejuvenation. Tall and solid, he was nevertheless almost two heads shorter than Burr. It was possible he suffered only one of those old processes.
The other two were certainly younger. If they had been rejuvenated — and Burr doubted either of them had the necessary capital — it wasn't visible.
Gurd, the naturalist, the zoological evaluator, as he was known aboard the spacecraft, was much smaller than the others. He seemed to be eternally tired. He stared at the screen as if he were doing some very heavy work.
Kerr, the first officer, sitting next to the captain, silent, seemed uninterested in anything around him.
All four wore rings around their necks denoting their rank. Burr's, polished and elaborately decorated, indicated that he was the leader of the expedition. All important decisions rested with him... as long as the captain didn't object. The captain's ring was simpler, gold-colored, and somewhat wider than those of his subordinates.
- "There you have it, Burr," he observed, "an obviously inhabited planet," and he gestured to the screen.
- "Observe the green patches beneath the clouds. Evidently chlorophyllous vegetation. Water in abundance. It would be a miracle if animal life hadn't developed into some complex form. Possibly very similar to our own. Spectrographic analysis shows a breathable atmosphere with a somewhat higher oxygen concentration than what we breathe on board. A slight exhilarating effect is noticeable, nothing harmful, of course. Only the temperature, as far as we can measure, is somewhat warm. If we didn't land near the Equator, however, it would be tolerable, even without protective layers."
- "When do we land?" Burr asked. "We can still fill a fifth of the holds with specimens."
His voice trembled slightly with the anticipation of an upcoming hunt.
- "We won't be landing," the captain explained patiently. "I've already told you we're dangerously close to the point of no return. We won't be able to land if we want to return to Base 3."
- "Not landing?" Burr exploded. "This expedition, Captain, which I've paid for, was chartered with the understanding that the search for specimens would be at my discretion. I say we land."
A sharp whistle interrupted him.
- "Meteor," an indifferent voice announced through a loudspeaker.
The four people in the chamber sat firmly in their seats and positioned their heads on the special backrests. The image of the planet abruptly disappeared from the screen as the enormous ship, responding automatically to the impulses of the meteor detector, moved out of the path of some errant meteorite. Burr's head, moved by the forces of inertia, struck the edge of the seat support somewhat violently. Indignation at the humiliation he suffered momentarily deprived him of speech. His greater mass made him especially vulnerable to these abrupt changes in the ship's trajectory. He was certain that the acceleration had been adjusted to the maximum that was tolerable for the rest of the crew for the sole purpose of making it particularly bothersome for him. His greater mass and stature, which flattered his vanity on land, was very uncomfortable on board. The doors, furniture, and utensils of this modified freighter were all for people of normal stature. The only other individual on board of comparable stature was the captain, and not only was he shorter, but he had a lifetime of astronavigation under his belt.
Envy, he thought, envy of my fortune and my power. When I get back to the base, I'll already have them at my disposal. For now, the urgent need is to acquire a single specimen valuable enough to consider this expedition truly profitable.
He controlled himself, and as the ship slowly resumed its original position and the image of the greenish planet emerged again from the edge of the screen, he started speaking again more gently and in a more pleasant tone.
- "Captain," he said, "to date, the specimens we've caught all belong to planets very different from our own. We must've taken an absurd quantity of their original poisonous atmospheres on board. Despite keeping them dormant, we're not sure of their survival in our zoos, unless our chemists manage to synthesize both the original atmosphere and the necessary nutrients. It's been ten generations since our starships found a planet similar to ours. I remember it well, because it happened around the time I was buying my first shipyard. You, Captain, know it as well as I do, although you weren't born yet. The implications of a discovery of this nature should not be unknown to you. We must land."
He fell silent, looking hopefully at Gurd, the zoological evaluator, who was distractedly leafing through a handwritten notebook.
The captain, who cared little for the progress of science in general, and of museums and zoos in particular, absentmindedly extended his hand to Kerr, the first officer.
- "The report," he demanded.
And turning to Burr, he continued:
- "For your peace of mind, I've prepared a list of reasons why we can't land. I'm responsible for the safety of the ship and its crew. Perhaps we can return some other time. If you still have the interest and the money. I'll read it to you: 'Planet 3 of Vaddis, yellow star 4, constellation 6654. Magnitude 24' (from Base 3, of course). 'Atmosphere' (I already told you), 'Gravity, 0.7 of ours.' You'd regain all your agility, Burr. 'Temperature' (we talked about that already). Now finally, the important part: 'Possibilities for exploration. The descent executed on the 4th planet of Sol 25, with a gravity 3.8 times ours, consumed a large part of our fuel reserves, mainly due to the establishment of a compensating antigravity field.' You insisted on that descent, Burr, and above all on staying when it was clear we would find no specimens other than those motionless siliceous lifeforms we encountered on the first day. I'll continue: 'The ship cannot risk a more favorable observation position by moving closer to the system's field of attraction. The only way of approach is by one of the remote-controlled auxiliary shuttles. There's only enough fuel for a single six-person shuttle. The position of the planet is such that, with the return trajectory we're forced to follow, we can't count on more than ten days of reliable control over the shuttle, four of which will be spent on the journey. From the ninth day on, the field of our transmitters weakens rapidly as the planet moves further away from us.' And now I'll read you the department of exploration's opinion: 'Zoomorphic evaluation' - he cleared his throat. 'Total duration of day and night, 0.92 of ours, suggests, given the similarity of all other factors, from gravity to atmosphere, a state of zoological evolution analogous to ours. The existence of a satellite (see report from the Department of Astronomy) whose mass and braking action we cannot determine with exactitude from our current position, makes it impossible to determine their exact position on the timescale.' Why don't they just directly state that they don't know whether they are more or less evolved than us? 'One would presume the existence of evolved life forms, possibly intelligent. A study at least ten or twenty diameters from the planet is required to be certain. Until there is proof to the contrary and in accordance with our previous experiences, it is considered that such forms may be hostile. A descent in an auxiliary shuttle with the view of obtaining only a few medium-weight zoological specimens would exclude an exploratory crew of more than two, a hunter and a zoological evaluator, leaving the remaining capacity available for cargo. Signed: Gurd, Chief Zoological Evaluator. Department of Exploration."
The captain looked back at Burr. Gurd, with an impassive look, was once again leafing through his notebook.
- "That's fine," Burr said. "I'll go down with a hunter. This is the thirty-fifth zoological expedition I've led, and I don't need any evaluator telling me what forms of animals are dangerous and which are scientifically important."
And he looked at Gurd, trying to see if his words had affected him. Gurd, indifferent, continued leafing through the booklet.
- "Two crew members," the captain corrected him, "two crew members of normal weight. You, as you know, weigh two. You can't be part of it if you want specimens for mounting in your museum or as a gift to your zoos."
Burr felt fury tighten in his throat. He swallowed with difficulty and tried to quell the anger that was welling up in him. With feigned calm, he ran his hand over his battered head and announced:
- "I'll go down alone then. If I don't need adaptive equipment, I'll be able to hunt alone just as safely as I would have at Base 3. And I think I have more experience as a hunter than anyone else on board."
* * *
Burr cautiously held back by the edge of the clearing and, hidden by a thick clump of bushes, closely watched the two animals that were oblivious to his gaze, moving briskly and upright in the bright midday sun, letting out inarticulate grunts. How hot! Despite the captain's careful explanation that the small auxiliary shuttle was about to land at a latitude with the same average temperature as his homeland, Burr was certain a trick was being played on him. Everyone aboard the ship envied him, they envied his riches, they envied his power. Especially Gurd, who wanted to get back at him for his superior hunting knowledge by showing off his own zoological knowledge. "Negligible zoological specimen," he said, waxing enthusiastic about an animal that, with his experience as a hunter, seemed unique. "There are at least four live specimens in the Base 2 zoo, and fifteen preserved specimens in the Base 3 museum."
Here on this planet, he was safe. The fauna of his homeworld was completely familiar to him, and from what he could see, some forms retained a resemblance. Certainly, he was limited by time and the distance he could travel from his shuttle; but here he had proof that he wasn't wrong.
He watched, fascinated and with some repulsion. The two beasts, baring their teeth menacingly, their bodies wet and glistening, thrashed vigorously. Suddenly, large pieces of their skin began to peel off and lay damp and lumpy on the grass. Beneath them a new skin appeared, a repulsive white color, peeled, like a half-healed sore. One of the animals threw itself to the ground, and the other, hunched in an almost human posture, took one of the first animal's legs in its two front paws and tore off the old skin, which, giving way with a sucking sound, fell to one side, practically retaining its original shape.
Burr felt queasy. It was true that he saw the great reptiles of Bars when they annually shed their skin; it was true that insects molt, leaving behind a formless caricature, an abandoned external skeleton of what had once been their body. But this viscous, repugnant and noisy shedding of skin, realized in friendly collaboration, was something new to him. He wondered what the zoological evaluator's opinion would be. He would assuredly have told him that one hundred and three specimens just like the ones present were hunted near Base 2, two of which, admirably preserved, could now be admired in the Barres National Museum.
One of the animals had already totally shed its old skin and, reared up on its forelegs, continued to emit frightening sounds. Then, with its teeth bared, it bent over the other, which hadn't shed its torso skin yet. Grasping a piece of the skin between its teeth, it began to tug vigorously.
Burr felt sick. Perhaps it was the man-like appearance that the beasts had when they stood up; but this cannibalism conducted on the mucous remains of discarded epidermis made his stomach churn. He put his hand into the pack he wore slung over his shoulder, drew his hunting pistol, and, taking aim, pulled the trigger. A crystalline capsule sunk into the back of the first animal, the one that completely shed its skin. Apparently surprised, and before the poison had done its work, it opened its mouth and, releasing its bite, fell slowly forward. The second beast looked up and, seeing Burr, let out a menacing snarl, turned and disappeared into the thicket.
With some disappointment at having lost his prey, Burr holstered his weapon and walked over to the fallen form. A little disgusted, he effortlessly picked it up and carried it away from the filthy piles of shed skin. The animal now confronted him with a new problem. He thoughtlessly used the lethal capsules when what he really wanted were live specimens. Perhaps the escaped animal was the mate of the one now at his feet. He clearly remembered now that the fallen animal's coat was much more vibrantly colored than the escaped animal's. Two animals together undoubtedly indicated mating in pairs, especially if there was such a difference in external appearance. It certainly couldn't be an indication of gregarious living, because the herds would consist of far greater numbers of individuals. He inwardly cursed his haste. Perhaps, if it hadn't been for his sensitive stomach, he could've witnessed something interesting. If the prevailing warmth corresponded in any way to the mating season, and Burr knew positively that most species on Base 3 began their preoccupation with reproduction as soon as the cold season ended, then his shot was premature. That act of dermatophagy interrupted by his shot was the ritual act of a female, or was it a male?, courting its mate. He recalled the complicated ceremonial dances that preceded mating in some of the more evolved bird species of his own homeland. And all the few primitive races of men on Base 3 adorned nuptial ceremonies with dances and ceremonies of complicated symbolism. Yes, it was premature. Sometimes, all in all, it was convenient to have a zoological evaluator to force one to moderate one's impulses. Perhaps the situation could be remedied. Possibly monogamous, the other pair would return in search of their mate.
He quickly arrived at a decision. He looked again at the fallen beast and took a small, sharp knife from his pack. He bent over the prone body and, hacking at it haphazardly, watched with curiosity as the red blood flowed. Next to the head, he discovered a place that seemed to be bleeding more deeply. Grasping the body by one of its legs, he easily dragged it away from the area. He remembered having seen a cave the day before, no doubt the occasional lair of one of these or other animals, which was ideal for setting a trap.
Behind Burr, a wide trail, occasionally speckled with blood, marked the route he followed.
In the cave, after carefully severing the head of his prey, he pondered the suitability of preserving other parts and ultimately decided to bury the remainder in the back of the cave. In that heat and being forced to wait, he couldn't tell how long the remains would last without rotting. Perhaps he should have brought the beast's old hide for his study, but the mere thought of those slimy hides threatened to make him sick.
He then loaded his weapon with narcotic capsules, placed it and the flashlight within an arm's reach, and settling into the early darkness, he waited.
Long was the wait. Innumerable times he consulted the watch on his right wrist, and innumerable times he tentatively pointed the weapon at imaginary silhouettes on the threshold of the cave. He was beginning to despair. Perhaps it hadn't been a pair after all. The return trip was dangerously approaching. Once the sun set, and when it rose again, he had to return to his shuttle. The control waves, he'd been told, only reached the side of that planet that was illuminated by sunlight. He'd brought provisions, but he was thirsty.
Finally, as night fell, he recognized the distant emotional growl of his prey. He prepared his flashlight and briefly tested it on the back of the cave. The sounds seemed menacing, and he was amused by the imminent disappointment of the companion - or was it a companion? - of the remains buried in the back. He paid close attention and it seemed like there were at least two animals growling. If only he could catch a live pair! With that, and the specimens of other the species on board the shuttle, he had something to surprise Gurd. He couldn't help but recognize his ability.
Outside it was already completely dark. He paid close attention again. The growls fell silent. He had to act with extreme caution, lest he lose his prey again. With his left hand, he tested the position of his flashlight and pistol. He listened attentively. Silence. He decided he should take the risk of carefully approaching the mouth to hear better. The cave was on the cliffside, and any living thing that approached along the stony slope would inevitably be heard. He knew he had very keen hearing. The forest was too far away for his presence, if he moved cautiously, to cause alarm. And he had to know what was happening in the forest. He left a trail clearly visible, and, he hoped, odorous enough for any wild beast to follow. Always slow and steady, staying in the shadow of the cliff, he peered out of the mouth of the cave. He looked into the forest and couldn't see or hear anything. The trail he'd left was faintly visible in the starlight. Where had they gone? he thought, and straightening up, he leaned his body against the rock face.
A slight metallic click startled him. Metallic? He must have heard wrong. He tilted his head in an effort to hear more clearly. From the forest came a distant, almost imperceptible humming. Some native, he decided.
Suddenly, a sharp pain bit his right flank. His thoughts blurred. Something had struck him. Hostile... forms..., he thought vaguely, trying to press the sore spot. Then another burning bite struck him across the body, through his arm. And another... And another... He thought he distinctly perceived the flash of lightning and the sound of distant thunder... and then... nothing.
* * *
HARRY Hastings, disheveled, his face red to the roots of his hair, abruptly stood up to greet the newcomer.
- "Goodness, Roland! What an unexpected pleasure! You've come just in time to calm my nerves. Would you believe that imbecile Leblanc! . . . Rejecting the finest acquisition his insignificant museum received in fifty years? But if he expects me to vote for him for the rectorship, he's crazy. A priceless gift! And I asked him for nothing in return; only a miserable tag saying it was my gift. Don't you think, Roland?" Hastings ultimately asked, and suddenly, as if exhausted by the effort, fell into the armchair from which he had risen.
Roland Higgins, professor emeritus and the University's chair of Paleology, smiled. Accustomed to the incoherent vehemence of his friend, he was simply amazed that anyone could even begin to understand H. Hastings's thoughts.
As abruptly as he had sat down, Hastings stood up.
- "Come! Come!" he ordered. "Come and see the beauty that this cretin deems inadmissible. Fraud, he calls it. That I fabricated it. That the photos are doctored. Imbecile! I sent the entire skull to his private home so he can decide if I also fabricated the skeleton. And the negatives from the original roll of film so he doesn't think I'm retouching the photos. Damned ingrate!" - and crossing the door, he went into the adjoining living room, where, as Higgins already knew, they would find the most varied and complete exhibition of antlers to be found in the country.
On the walls of the living room, amongst the hunting equipment, and in the few unoccupied free spaces, hung firearms of the most diverse make and caliber.
Near the fireplace, mounted on a walnut panel, one could admire "the finest acquisition that Dr. René Leblanc's insignificant museum received in fifty years." An enormous bear's head, black, hairy, almost half a meter wide, calmly displaying teeth that failed to give it an air of ferocity. The mandibles were somewhat short for the size of the skull, which gave the whole an incongruous fineness of features. It resembled the image of a jungle patriarch peeking through the hole in a medieval stock with a satisfied smile. To complete the image, further below, and like a panoply, what appeared to be the monster's claws protruded from the panel, on either side of a full-length photograph of the beast. Seated on the recumbent figure, with a rifle in his hand, was the figure of Hastings.
- "And?... What do you make of it?... Is it valuable or not?" the latter ultimately shouted. "They were the best shots of my life. And as soon as I saw it, I thought it would net me at least fifty thousand dollars in compensation. But the owner never showed up. It's almost three meters tall," he added, unaware that nothing had been clarified so far.
Higgins, who hadn't even been able to reply to the host's greeting, decided that the specimen was indeed a curious one. He knew that, with patience, the facts could be clearly deduced from Hastings's rambling conversation.
- "When did you hunt it?" he finally asked.
- "Six months ago. Up in the Rocky Mountains. You know... I needed to complete the species," he gestured around the antlers in the living room. "'Rupicaprinidae,' that idiot Leblanc calls them. I already have the goral from Asia, which is from the same family, and I wanted a billy from the Rockies. We went near the source of the Columbia. It was bitterly cold. We had three guides who had come down from Canada. Thieves!... They made off with everything they could when we were fifty miles from Seattle. I had some very interesting war surplus equipment for testing. A 'sniperscope'... an electronic night sight. Are you familiar with them? Look..." and heading toward one of the walls, he took down a rifle with a sight somewhat thicker than the usual ones, from which a cable led to a small rectangular box.
- "This infernal artifact, Roland, was first used on Iwo Jima to hunt the Japanese at night," Hastings said. And, adopting what seemed to him a doctoral air, he added:
- "I'll explain to you how it works. You take it and shine infrared rays at the Japanese, that is, heat waves to you, in case you didn't know. The Japanese don't know or see anything. You shine them with that portable reflector made out of dark glass that's on the ground, mounted on top of the rifle. Then you take the rifle, put your eye to the sight, and the Japanese, illuminated by the invisible black light, appears in front of the reticle, ready to fire. The work is done by some electronic gadget inside the scope, which takes the black light, which is, as they say, darkness illuminated by an invisible light, and transforms it into visible light. This model gives me a green image. Ingenious, isn't it? Everyone's blind except for you." Smiling, satisfied with his own wisdom, he put the rifle back in its cradle.
- "Seven inches at 150 yards?" he asked politely. He had no idea whether that was too much or too little.
- "Well, seven inches for the main group of three bullets... And maybe ten for the fourth. But I can tell you, it was an excellent grouping, all the same," Hastings continued. "And when Monroe and Bertrand came along, we couldn't believe what we'd caught. A monster ten feet tall and well over 2,000 pounds. And that wasn't the only surprise... It had a shackle around the back of its neck, which means, my dear Watson, that it had been tamed. And an alarm clock had been tied around its wrist... And in the cave, we found a plastic bag full of food, which..."
Higgins, despite himself, was interested.
- "An alarm clock? And food?" he interrupted. "Where are they?"
- "Oh, the alarm clock, which wasn't an alarm clock, I gave to Wolf. You know him, no? The mechanic at the Astronomical Observatory. He told me it was a large model of those self-winding clocks, but the guy who made it was only interested in the automatic winding part. It had four hands that went around as they pleased, but one went around almost on the hour... a little more than once per day. He told me that for a model, the accuracy was astonishing. It gained exactly 115 minutes and 12 seconds per day... not a second more or a second less. But he couldn't find any way to make it go slower, and he gave it to his kid... And the dial was covered with an awful lot of divisions and strange little drawings. Some foreign craftsman with a sense of humor, foreign humor of course, must have made the model and then sold it to the circus..."
- "Circus? What circus?" Higgins asked.
- "And... well... I think a black bear like that one, domesticated and with a wristwatch, must have escaped from some circus. That's why I told you about compensation... But I followed the law and my conscience. As soon as I could, I took out an ad: half a page in a newspaper. It cost me my dollars. But nobody came..." Hastings answered, apparently somewhat uncomfortable. He remained thoughtful for a second.
- "The Wabash Evening Post," he added later, as if closing the subject. "And when we checked the pack..."
- "I don't know the newspaper," Higgins interrupted. "What's their circulation?"
- "Oh! How the hell do you expect me to know? When we checked the pack..."
- "How many inhabitants does Wabash have?" his friend insisted.
Hastings looked down at the tips of his shoes and whispered embarrassedly:
- "Fifteen hundred..."
Higgins smiled and said nothing; Hastings observed him for a moment as if waiting for some comment to justify his "legal and conscientious" attitude, but when none came, he continued with somewhat less enthusiasm:
- "The pack must have been stolen from some military encampment. It had a bunch of emergency rations sealed in plastic, a strange pistol that fired glass bullets, a tiny flashlight, and a ton of other odds and ends I didn't get a chance to study. I have the inventory somewhere. Because when we got to Seattle, I went to the War Department to avoid liability. I told you Bertrand and Louis stole everything, no? Too bad about the flashlight. The pistol wasn't much and it was too big. I didn't have time to study it... But everyone at the Department was an even bigger idiot than Leblanc. A regular house of mysteries... That they didn't have any kind of military encampment in the region... That I must have read about the pistol somewhere because they didn't know the army made anything like that..., that this... and the other thing..., that if I wanted I could to go to the police. And that I stop messing with them..."
- "And you didn't read the newspapers?" Higgins asked.
- "From A to Z," Hastings replied proudly. "And Monroe too. And we even went on a tour of the newsrooms. Monroe is full of journalist friends. You know? That's the one thing he has in abundance. But no one had ever heard of the creature, the pack, or its contents..."
- "And the missing guides? What happened to them? When did you find them again?"
- "Ah, that's right! With all this business about my good shooting, I forgot. Well... That trail with the bag of bloody potatoes was Pierre. Poor thing! He'd needed to retire early anyway; he was too old to be a guide... The little bear ripped his head off and buried the body at the back of the cave. Right there, we buried the head... under his arm, like the Canterville ghost, because there was no room to stretch it out... Louis appeared the next morning... We were eating the bear's hams. He was naked from the waist down..."
- "Who, the bear?" Higgins asked jokingly.
- "Of course! I'm serious, don't jest. The little bear was bare up to the back of his neck and was only wearing his alarm clock and shackle. Louis was the one who was half naked. Until we got to Paseo, he had to walk around in a pair of long underwear I lent him... It seems Pierre fell into a stream; and when Louis went to help him, he fell in too. With the cold, they decided to undress and hang their clothes out to dry. They were undressing, between laughing and talking; but Louis's shirt's laces had become tight with the wetness. Pierre was already nude and was trying to untie the knot with his teeth when that little fellow appeared. Louis doesn't know exactly how it happened, but he thinks Pierre fainted when he saw my domesticated little bear. At least he almost died of fright... and he wanted me to give him compensation for that... The thing is, the bear entered over there and Louis left out there at full speed... And he didn't dare come back... He was so sure the bear had eaten Pierre! He found us by the smoke from the fire Bertrand had lit... and I think also by the smell of the hams... Exquisite hams... They lasted us for almost a week..."
From the living room came the sound of the telephone ringing. Hastings, followed by Higgins, went into the other room. He dropped onto the sofa and picked up the receiver and shouted:
- "Hello!" and then, straightening up and speaking more gently, "Who?... Oh! How are you, Dr. Leblanc?... Yes... Yes... I sent you the skull yesterday so you could study it better..." He covered the microphone with his hand and whispered to Higgins:
- "It's Leblanc, who's asking me for forgiveness. For-give-ness..." - and he continued on the phone - "That you've provisionally classified it? ... A case of what?... Teratological, of course... Yes..., yes ... I'll insist if you want, but I assure you that they're the originals... Magnificent, doctor!... Of course, Doctor Leblanc, of course... I always thought you were the right person for the job... Delighted... , delighted. Good evening, Doctor Leblanc" - he hung up the phone and smiled with satisfaction:
- "I knew it!" he then exclaimed, looking at Higgins. "The skull convinced him. He says he thinks it's a mutation of the 'tracticus ornadus'..."
- "A mutation... and of the 'trenarctus ornatus'"; that's the South American black bear for you..." - Higgins corrected him.
- "Whatever you say. He also says it's a 'usus natura'... He means it's a natural bear, not a manufactured one, as I've said before..."[Translator's note: "Oso" is Spanish for bear]
- "'Lusus naturae'... It's Latin and means play or whim of nature..." - Higgins corrected him again, distracted. Hastings looked at him in annoyance.
- "If you let me finish, you can find out the rest of what he said," he continued. "He wants me to send it to him tomorrow... He wants to organize an expedition to see if we can get the rest of the skeleton... Where did we throw away the ham bones?... He's going to put it in the Central Hall, next to the megatherium skeleton. And a tag with my name on it... How very kind! ... And, please, find out at the taxidermist's if it's not possible... What a smooth way to say that, no?... It's not possible that he got the wrong legs by mistake. That the mounted ones I had sent him were more like the hands of a gorilla than the paws of a bear. And that perhaps the original legs are still at the taxidermist's. And that I shouldn't forget to attend the vote for the rectorship that they'll hold on Saturday... Ah! That I please send him a sketch of the central inscription on the shackle around his neck. Just something like that in pencil, no more, to make a provisional classification. Next week he's going to send me the photographer so he can do a decent study. He wants to send it to the language institute so they can tell him what it's written on."
Higgins stood up.
- "Let me do it," he asked. "I'm more experienced at drawing than you, and I'd like to see the inscription."
Hastings found him a notebook and a pencil, and they went into the trophy room. And there, standing on the mantelpiece, while the enormous head gazed enigmatically into space, Roland R. Higgins, chair of the Department of Paleology, carefully scribbled on the first empty page of the notebook:
BURR
Chief of Exploration
Thirty-Fifth Interplanetary Zoological Expedition.
But Roland R. Higgins, of course, didn't know that.
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