"The Chimp" by Dewi Morgan

The chimp lay on the operating table. A spot of blood dripped slowly to the marble.

Drip. Drip.

A red starburst formed.

Drip. Drip.

A carnation.

The scientist came back into the operating thatre, glancing briefly at the equipment. He motioned to a man behind him.

"276 is all right. Take him back and get me 277."

"Dead, sir.

"Well get me 278 then, but be quick. He'll--This one'll--> come round soon. Oh, and get rid of 230, could you? He's developed gangrene. No, on second thoughts, leave him. He may be useful for something.

"Right, sir."

276 wakes up. It is a hard struggle past the drugged barriers, but he makes it at last, only to fall from one nightmarish world into another.

276? Strange name for me. I call myself "Narna".

I live in a box. It has very strong grasses over the front, and thick, shiny sticks around the sides.

I used to be able to get out, but they put a box, with a hoop on top of it, onto the catch in front of the grasses, and that held the catch still, so that I couldn't manage it.

My head is being hit with rocks, it's aching, smarting, burning, throbbing like a hot day.

I'm African. We had a lot of hot days in Africa. We con't get any here, though.

Ow. My head is tender. The rocks hurt. I used to hit small monkeys with rocks, when they stole my food. There are not rocks here, though. There are hardly any monkeys, either. It is not the life I was made for.

Ow. I have a lot of time for pain, and thought, in this box.

Around me there are other boxes. They are usually empty, but lately, the one opposite my grass box-front has been occupied by a female. A rather nice female, actually. We often talk together, or just pick at eachother's fur between the shiny sticks. She is very curious, and asks lots of questions, because she is new. She came - um, a time ago. She came, anyway. I think it was after they tied the sticks in place of my heart.

"Why do they do it?" she often asks.

"What"

"Crack us open?"

"They want to eat our insides. We are almost hollow, now, like nut-shells, because they have eaten a lot of us."

"Oh... why do they have shiny claws when we are on the flat thing, when they cut us open, but not when they give us food?"

"They are like cats. They can pull their claws under their fingernails.

"Oh. come to the bars. I'll clean you."

I know a lot about them. I've been here, oh, well, um, a long time, anyway. Longer than you can remember. It's not nice. Every morning, when the Burning Tree has been thrown about as high as a monkey, they take me and crack me open, and then I die, and they eat my insides, and then I am asleep, and then I wake up, and hurt.

Then I think, and hurt a lot, so I go over to the female (called "Melun"), who picks at my fur and comforts me.

Then I go to a little cave, or a box, in my box, and sit on some dried grass - comfortable grass, not like on the front of my box.

Then I sleep.

I wake up a lot, from pain, when it is dark, so I eat and drink, and hurt and think, and go back to sleep.

Sometimes it is light when I wake up. My parents told me they could make things burn, and it is true. They make my head burn, and they can make their own Burning Trees in the sky.

The sky is different, too. It it never blue, always white from the clouds, which never rain, or show the real Burning Tree, and never move, ot change colour, or do anything.

Anyway, go away. I'm going to sleep now.

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