she was a candidate for respiratory syncytial virus.” He looked at Ivy. “In other words she was forced under a general anaesthesia every ten days to collect nasopharyngeal swabs and tracheal irrigation samples to monitor her resistance to the virus.” He looked grimly at Ivy, who had her hand over her mouth. “Three cardiac arrests in twelve months.”
“But she was still a baby-” Ivy said.
Liam nodded. “Since then it’s been hepatitis and malaria research as well.”
“What did-” Ivy began.
“Isolation in a sterile bio-containment facility,” Liam answered. “Serial blood draws, inoculations and biopsies as often as they wanted to. She would have been surrounded by technicians, firing pre-loaded syringes through a dart gun to immobilize her,” he said grimly, “more often than not hitting her vulnerable body parts by mistake as she struggled to escape it. She had eight years of terror in complete isolation. No wonder they couldn’t rehabilitate her.” Liam finished his rant with disgust and handed the clipboard back to Nerov. “The very sight of a human is terrifying to her.”
“Never wanted to do it Kent,” Nerov said dourly as he prepared to leave.
“Bet this one didn’t want you to either,” Liam said.
“Don’t doubt it,” said Nerov.
Liam crouched down, intent on calming the caged animal. “Wait, Nerov, before you go, what’s her name?”
Nerov looked at Liam, one eyebrow raised. “Whatever you want it to be. The form says she’s called K32.”
“K32?” Liam shook his head. “Not here, she’s not.” He looked up at Ivy. “You name her, Match-stick. Pick something nice.”
Ivy was taken aback. “You want me to name a chimpanzee?”
“Of course not,” Liam replied, tiredly. “I want you to name a bonobo.”
Compelled to stay, Ivy watched as Liam placated the three chimpanzees above with some food. He ordered assistants to create a temporary divide to keep the others from the bonobo’s cage and spent hours trying to entice her from the tiny prison. Every time he got close, K32 would scream and bash the open cage door against the wire enclosure wall. She hit her head against the bars and scratched at her chest until it bled freely. As each minute passed, Liam grew more desperate. He stood outside the enclosure, well past dinner time, raking his fingers down his face.
“I just don’t know what to do. She’s terrified of me, the chimps, everyone. I thought she’d be alright here, but she needs so much more.”
“Isn’t there a rehab facility she can go to?” Ivy asked. “Somewhere better equipped?”
Liam’s expression was grim. “There’s no room anywhere else and no funding even if there was. It was me or the needle.”
Ivy sighed. “Go home Liam. You both need rest.”
“I can’t leave her. Look at the state she’s in.”
“Well, I’ll stay then. All night if I have to.”
Eventually, Liam agreed.
There was something so disturbing, so human about K32's anxiety. Academia had taught Ivy to look at the animal scientifically, detached, and never to project her own human thoughts and emotions into its behaviour. Never anthropomorphise. But as Ivy stood there, watching it rock and stare in its prison of fear, broken beyond repair, her instincts screamed human . This creature saw only fear and pain in humankind, and silently, Ivy understood that fear. Humanity sometimes seemed too painful to be a part of. There was loneliness in being human. And loss. It was easier to hide. To deflect with a smile and stay safe. Ivy shivered, suddenly cold.
Very slowly and with not a little trepidation, Ivy stole over to the far corner of the room and sat on the concrete floor next to the enclosure wall. Cold steel bars were between them. K32 shrieked, backing into the crate.
All night Ivy sat on the frigid concrete, occasionally making soothing sounds, but mostly just sitting quietly, sharing in her isolation. Over the following week, Ivy only left for lessons