Back we went to the main room. The rumpus was over and done with, and the scalpel-operators had gone back to work. The bronze door invited us to vacate that slaughterhouse, and so we left it behind, on our way to new revelations of which I hadn’t yet the slightest inkling.
The fourth building Samuel showed us was non-descript on the outside, its architecture grey and neutral. But then the hornèd philosopher had us push our way through swinging doors like the ones in neighbourhood movie houses, and we found ourselves in an area of orchestra seats crammed with people silently waiting in front of the stage, its curtain drawn. Schultz, Tesler, and I went up to the front row and sat down in Pullman seats that wheezed and sighed under our weight. We were still getting settled, when a little man in a tuxedo came out on the proscenium and bowed:
— Ladies and gentlemen, he said, in a moment I’ll present to you the famous ventriloquist Professor Franky Amundsen, with his no less famous automaton Homo Sapiens. I hardly need draw your attention to the mastery of the one and the brilliance of the other, since man and puppet have conquered both continents, earning tremendous ovations, record box-office sales, and high praise in the press. Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please!
I promptly turned to Schultz and whispered in his ear:
— Didn’t we leave our comrade Franky in the Hell of Violence? Can he play a role in two places at once?
But the impresario left the proscenium, the public stirred in their seats, the curtain went up, and a truly deafening round of applause greeted Franky Amundsen. He came on stage dressed in tails, his face heavily powdered and looking more severe than solemn, carrying under his left arm a large puppet with moveable joints.
— Gentlemen, he said, the automaton I am honoured to introduce to you looks nothing like those hideous scarecrows169 that some colleagues, against the dignity of our art, are wont to offer up to public derision in shabby little theatres. Gentlemen, in building my automaton, I’ve endeavoured to incarnate a mystery, the mystery of Homo Sapiens, that humble simian who, after a great deal of crawling around, one fine day got to his feet, raised his brow to the heavens, and soared to the loftiest heights of intelligence. Here you have Homo Sapiens: listen to him and be amazed. No need to fear fainting from the wonder of it, because in the vestibule we have a certified nurse standing by with first-aid kit and all, at the service of our honourable spectators.
Ignoring the fresh round of applause from the multitude, Franky Amundsen sat down on a stool, put the automaton on his lap, and felt around on its back for the hidden springs. The audience waited ecstatic; you could have heard a pin drop.
— Homo Sapiens! the ventriloquist addressed his puppet at last. Say hello to our audience!
The automaton raised his head, revealing a face in which a certain indefinable malice was depicted, then let his blinking eyes roam over the room.
— What’s this buncha good-for-nothings doing here? Why’re they gawking at me like I was from another planet?
— Say hello, Homo! insisted Franky.
— A gang of good-for-nothings! grumbled the puppet. Lemme at ’em so I can punch their lights out!
And, just like that, he tried to leap free into the audience. But Franky Amundsen held him back in mid-air and restored him to his knee. Settled once more, the automaton again let his gaze sweep over the spectators, as though looking for something. Suddenly he turned to Franky, gave him an unwholesome wink, and crowed in his ear:
— Did you get a load of the babe in the front row? What a pair of legs!
— Behave yourself, Homo! Franky reprimanded. We’re here to work.
— Lemme go chat her up! begged the puppet, and for the second time he tried to jump off the stage.
Meanwhile, the public was showing signs of great excitement. Noticing this, Franky Amundsen firmly placed the automaton on his knee and spoke to him thus:
— So, Homo, why don’t you treat these ladies and gentlemen to a few of your impressions of the Neozoic Era.
Obediently, Homo Sapiens arranged his facial features into an expression of innocent and crass bestiality.
— Me, Jumbo, poor monkey, he pronounced thumping himself on the chest. That Orang-utan real nasty: him eat bananas all day long and all day long make coochie-coochie with real pretty females, oooh! That Orangutan big tyrant: him no let Jumbo eat bananas, no let Jumbo make coochie-coochie, oooh! So Jumbo eat oysters and give shelled nuts to females. So Jumbo eat and Jumbo make coochie-coochie, oooh! That Orang-utan real stupid — him never become man.
He paused suddenly at this point, and resuming his normal demeanour, he cried out to one of the spectators:
— Hey, bub, gimme a tip on Sunday’s races!
— Gentlemen, explained Franky gravely. The exciting story my ward was recounting has just experienced some interference from civilization. You must have guessed that Jumbo and Orang-utan are two actors in the sublime drama of prehistory: Jumbo is the progressive monkey and Orangutan is the retrograde ape. Just imagine the incredible effort Jumbo had to make to finally arrive at the Morse Code! No doubt about it, it’s enough to bring tears to your eyes!
Here the ventriloquist pulled out a great purple handkerchief and daubed his weeping eyes. Religiously, with scientific decorum, the whole audience sobbed tenderly. Then Homo Sapiens winked at the blonde in the front row:
— Don’t cry, sweetie! he cried. I’ll take you out to the Pigalle: drinks, dancing, and “et cetera,” like that Frenchy used to say. And you, ya buncha namby-pambies, knock it off with the waterworks! Holy smokes, you’d think we were at a funeral!
After saying which, the puppet turned to Franky:
— Hey, how ’bout we blow this popstand and go get some drinks.
— Well then, gentlemen, announced Franky. Homo is now in the thick of civilization. But thanks to my art, we’ll make him go back to the time of the cavemen. Listen up, Homo! We want a scientific account.
The automaton sat up straight on Franky’s knees. He looked around, at once fierce and tender. Then he exclaimed:
— Brrr! I — Ach — draw reindeer on cave wall. Woman no sweep cave, woman let flank of mammoth burn, brrr! Woman covered in furs, still wants furs. Woman shave legs with flint knife. Ach hungry: mammoth flank burnt, brrr! Ach pick up club, Ach hit woman, Ach furious. Woman cry, woman sweep cave, woman roast mammoth flank. Ach eat, Ach give furs to woman, Ach draw reindeer in clean cave.
The puppet stopped talking, and Franky smiled at the enthralled public:
— Ah, gentlemen, what a portentous scene and what an admirable lesson in psychology we’ve just received from Ach, the primitive man. Very good, Homo! And now, tell them about the final stage. Dazzle them with the science of Homo Sapiens! Let them bust a gut in amazement!
The automaton cleared his throat, adopted an air of sovereign intelligence, and spoke thus:
— Okay, guys, here goes the speech. Want some advice? Don’t get your knickers in a knot; just take things nice ’n’ easy. What ya gotta do is salt away a few bucks. A nice apartment, a blonde on the side, and an eight-cylinder car to pick up broads in, that’s the life. Did I say something? If you wanna know my opinion, French cuisine ain’t what it used to be, vitamin-wise. Take care of your stomach, and the rest is literature. Stick with permanganate until they discover sulfonamides. Listen, guys…!