Dr. Anton who gets involved in many strange stories had this one to tell me.

  How such an unusual story could be suppressed astounds me.  Until he told this I had heard nothing about it and I'm a pretty inquisitive fellow.  I have over five hundred bookmarks on my computer and an equal number of favorites.  I mean, you know, in the internet sense of the world wide web, I get around.  I would question Anton's veracity but for the fact that every time I run one of improbable stories to earth it always turns out to be true.  I don't know what secret Orders he belongs to, although I should, but here goes.

     He's sometimes hazy on dates, he's mainly concerned with psychological sequences.  He says that sometime about 1985-90, see what I mean about hazy, a feral boy was found among the rocks of the Sahel in what has been partitioned off as Dahomey.  Dahomey claimed him anyway but what could this kid know about Dahomey, could have been beamed down from Mars.  For what anybody knows he may have been.  He was strange.  Some French archaeological team  looking for ancient rock paintings came across this boy and captured him.  Low tech chase on foot.  He was determined to be, thought to be or may actually have been twelve years old.

     Even though technically a Dahomean national and a human being he was classified as a wild animal and taken away to France on those spurious grounds.  Sometimes a little lie works besides who could tell the difference.  Now, this gets really weird.  While knowing only the ancient language common to all primates it was determined that some sounds he made were, first, aam-err-e-caa which was pronounced as a sort of gagging sound and free, free, free three times but highly aspirated and drawn out.  Several of the anthropoligists thought the wild boy was merely blowing fart sounds but their confederates were learned Liberal university men and women so they determined that he wanted to emigrate from France to the Land of the free and the home of the brave, to wit:  The United States Of America.

   What's freedom mean, man, if you can't go where you want go when you want to go there so Anton says they packed the feral boy off to New York City, first class, which was somewhat offensive to those who had paid full fare and were not the beneficiaries of up grades.  NYC was less of a change from the wilds of the Sahel that one might think but it is said that the kid actually pressed his lips to the ground of the good old USA when he stepped off the ship.  God know what he must have eating away out there.  They dubbed this human chimp Raspail de Goncourte in honor of his French discoverers which he remained and remains to this day.

    Raspail turned out to be a quick learner although as his Liberal handlers added:  He had a lot more to teach us than we had to teach him.  A curious remark coming from those who were the beneficiaries of ten thousand years of civilization.  There were those who scoffed at this but they were dismissed as bigots White Supremacists or some other offensive thing.

    Raspail was assigned a team of two anthropologists and two sociolgists who collectively earned just over a million dollars a year, one million nine hundred ninety-nine dollars and 99/100 to be exact.   It was very fortunate that Raspail turned out to be a diamond in the rough just justifying the, to some, enormous expense.

     They set to work to, not so much educate him as to indoctrinate him with our ways which must have seemed pretty strange, I'm sure, compared to his own ways, which is to say natural ways.  Apparently it was quite an effort to persuade the wild boy not to take a dump wherever he happened to be at the moment.  That was a minor problem unless you happened to be standing beside him when he went into a squat.

     The really important thing is he picked up easily.  Firm.

     As he seemed to be very mature they got him behind the wheel of a Buick after just a year, a little less than a year, as I said he was a quick learner.  This turned out to be quite a learning experience for all involved but he quickly learned to weave through New York City traffic just as though he were scampering over his native rocks.

     His English, it was admitted, was still a little rough but he was progressing so rapidly that it was decided to enroll him in Harvard University after a little over two years since he had left the Sahel where surprisingly he placed ahead of several affirmitive action applicants.

     Admission policies had to be adjusted a little bit as, although Raspail seemed to be learning things very quickly he still had trouble forming an X so he couldn't do especially well on those true-false, multiple choice test.

     No matter, those four Liberal pedagogues slaved over that boy miraculously teaching him to get his BA in four years.  It was true that Harvard created a whole new discipline for him for which he set his own standards.  Scoffers once again said with a wink that Raspail was coached while some wiseacres, who still haven't found a job, said that the wild child hadn't even been tested.  You don't get a degree from Harvard without being tested, and I mght add, in more ways than one.  Sexual education had been no problem as he had been up and ready for anything.  No debilitating inhibitions there.

     Harvard did insist that his handlers begin carrying little scoops and plastic bags as Raspail was always subject to embarrassing moments.

     From Harvard Raspail was sent to the Chicago Zoo.  That doesn't sound quite right, what I mean to say is that the Chicago Zoo has a primate center teaching apes to learn to use computers.  I know you think I'm, Anton actually, am making this up.  If so I refer you to
http://www.chicagotribune.com/technology/cmi-0512020152dec02,1,1917198.print.story .

  The study is still going on today.  Raspail who was still cpable of speaking the ancient primate language although he had tourble converting it into English was thought to be possibly useful in picking the apes brains.  But as I say, I don't know whre Anton gets this stuff, all he will tell me is that he has his sources, but if you follow it up you'll find he's always spot on.  It is not always easy to follow his stuff up, however.

    Now, OK, here comes the astonishing part.  The Africans are cutting over the rain forests.  Chain saws have proven to be a real blessing to them.  In doing so they are destroying the habitat of the gorillas, chimps and apes.  Of course, most of the gorillas end up on the dinner plate so their lives are not given in vain or their meat wasted, but as some anthropologists happened to be along with one of these logging crews they discovered a group of apes such as had never seen seen before.  They seemed to be a cross between the gorilla and a very hairy human being.  They walked more upright and had a much more intelligent look to their eyes than any previously known apes.

     Well, most of them escaped but one of these anthropologists, a giant of a man, perhaps 6'0'' tall, maybe a little taller, managed to throw a full Nelson on one of these 7' plus apes who was either not as nimble footed as his fellows or perhaps didn't have a good head start.

     They put a tag on his big toe that said Chicago Zoo and shipped him off.  When Raspail and this ape who was dubbed Taran made eye contact there was instant recognition.  These boys could speak the same language and it wasn't a language debased by civilization like English, or even French.  No, sir, this was the real thing.  Unfortunately Rqaspail's life in the desert prevent him from relating to Taran's life in the swamps to while they could talk they couldn't make sense of each other's terms.  Raspail rose to the occasion magnificently nevertheless coverting swamp terms into something that could be understood by his handlers.  Some of it was puzzling but then they were out there a very long way on the edge.

     However Taran took to the computer like a lion takes to a hartebeast.  You could see his eyes light up every time he saw the screen.  The zoomen were trying to get him to match faces for a cheap snack reward of repulsive whatever which was boring the big ape to tears.

     Then one day a screen accidentally popped up with a couple hundred thumbnails of various jungle scenes and animals.  Taran then did a very strange thing.  He began tapping out strings of thumbnails much like the ACGT of genetic code.

     He selected groups of four symbols for different meanings and then began to tap them out in different conformations of different lengths.  It took the anthropologists a little while to understand this was not random tapping but an actual language which could be read and understood.  Their problem was they they couldn't read it.  But...Raspail could.  His English, which was none too good- Anton doesn't care what anyone might say about his revealing this truth, proved to be beyond the powers of the zookeepers to understand and even their powerful main frame computer so they were forced to call in a couple of Raspail's former handlers to interpret.  They had all been able to retire after handling Raspail for ten years so they were reluctant to come out of retirement.  Perhaps the remembrance of those scoopers and plastic bags stood out too boldly in their memories.  But,  some inducements can be made difficult to refuse.

     Remember this is Raspail's interpetation of Taran's computer language as understood by his handlers who had always had diffiuclty understanding the still feral boy.  This is the remarkable story that the great ape told.

     Back then there was one of us Great Apes, a she, known as Kala.  She was visited by the Sun God and he gave her a hairless manchild, golden all over just like himslef.  The other apes did not understand how such a thing could come to be and did not want it.  They told Kala to throw it away.  The balu was small and weak.  Even though he could not compete with the other young fellows he ever grew and prospered.

     I was astonished that these people here seemed have heard of him as they gave me the name of this godling which I arrived here.  They called me after the name of this god, Taran, At first I thought they were mocking me but now I think they called me Taran for some other unknown reason.  I can't be Taran because Taran means golden skin and as anyone can see I am a hairy black ape.  My name is Terkoz.  I was named after my great grandfather Terkoz who was slain in battle with Taran although we never knew why.

     Taran although puny and weak compared to us was gifted by his father the Sun with blazing intelligence.  He could outthink any of us and then he had that sharp short stick that no hide could withstand.  Not even the great Kerchak, perhaps the mightiest bull our tribe ever had.  Even Kerchak Taran killed.  He then became our king and god.  He ruled wisely and well preventing many disturbances.

     All was going well until one day our territory, given to us by the Sun God as our eternal possession, was invaded by another tribe of hairless puny people but whereas Taran was golden skinned these people were like ebony trees.  Whereas Taran had his short sharp stick that he used with his hand the Gomangani, as they were called, had long pointed sticks that they could throw from great distances.  All that the sticks had to do was break your hide and you died.

     These Gomangani waged a genocidal war of extermination against us.  The first to die was Kala the mother of Taran.  While we stood around mystified Taran sought to learn the mystery of the pointed sticks.  He did so obtaining the sticks by entering the boma of the Gomangani.  Then we were safe because Taran was smarter even than the Gomangani.  His father gave him understanding of the sticks and he made his better than those of the Gomangani.  His would go further and straighter than theirs.

    All was well until Terkoz, my great grandfather, became envious of Taran organizing the Great Resistence whose symbol was the Red Leaf.  They made Taran's life very miserable so that even though he fought and defeated Terkoz in fair combat he no longer wanted to be our chief and god.  We had not learned the lessons he had tried to teach us.  He turned the tribe over to Terkoz and went away back to his father the Sun.  We never saw him again.

 We learned later that Terkoz sought him out in the jungle.  We found Terkoz's body with many wounds caused by the sharp short stick so we believe it was Taran that killed him.

    When Taran left our troubles began in earnest.  We could no longer defend ourselves against the Gomangani and their pointed sticks.  Because we had not honored the son of the Sun as we should have he allowed the Gomangani to drive us from our ancestral grounds.  This may be impossible to believe but they ate us after they killed us.  We went deeper into the swamps and everglandes where we believed no one could follow us or would want to.  This worked well for a long time but then the Gomangani came deep into the swamps after us.  This time they left us no place to hide.  This time they came with roaring sticks so that all they had to do was touch trees with them and the trees fell over.  All our cover was gone.  Truly our
god, Taran, had forsaken us.

     Then a party came upon us early in the morning before we were awake.  These were all tarans with a couple Gomangani.  I was covering the escape of the others when this taran came from nowhere and jumped on my back preventing the use of my arms in some strange magic way.

     Here I am today in what must be the home of the gods.  Golden skins are everywhere but still, yes, that must be it, they call me Taran, mocking me because Terkos rebelled and I am not like them.  Well, no matter, they feed me well and I have this sun machine that tells the story of my people to me.

 I lovingly touch the pictures of the home I know I will never see again.

     Anton said the scientists were astounded by the story.  It was the first time any other species had ever communicated their own history.  I laughed and asked Anton if they didn't recognize the story.

    Not at first he said. Even the use of Taran did not register with them as they were so astounded by Terkoz's story.  They immediately changed his name from Taran to Terkoz which seemed to puzzle him but he never said anything about it via the computer.

     The scientists were all standing around amazed when a janitor who had heard the whole reading said that he was amazed that the ape had read the story.  When asked what story he replied:  Why, Tarzan Of The Apes, of course by Edgar Rice Burroughs.  He said that the ape didn't get the story right but that it was close.

     He was greeted by some blank stares but all those fellows had copies of Tarzan Of The Apes in their hands by nightfall.

     You may imagine their quandary, Anton said, because here they had a book that had always been considered a work of fiction and yet the ape told the same story from the ape's perspective and there is no chance he could have read the book.

     It was true that Edgar Rice Burroughs at the beginning of his book said that it was a true story told him by someone who knew but that was what as a literary device was known as a framing story or so everyone thought.  But perhaps now the opening story had to be seen as true.  Burroughs or his informant would have known a number of details that the apes didn't.  For instance Kala didn't give Taran virgin birth but took him from the Claytons' cottage.

     The pointed sticks were, of course, the poisoned arrows of Mbonga's people.  While the function of the bow was lost on the apes, as is well known, Taran with his superior intelligence easily mastered the concept improving on the Gomangani's technology.

     Once it became apparent that Mbonga's people had been driven out of their homelands by an intertribal conflict, Anton says that old records were searched  and indicated that Burroughs' account was true but that it was an error in believing that the soldiers of the Belgian Congo were at fault.  Mbonga's people most probably trekked from the Ituri Rain Forest after they lost a war with the Pygmys.

     Anton says that the Colonial records Burroughs refers to as having been seen were searched for but either they have been misplaced or lost completely.  So there is as yet no substantiation for the task assigned to John Clayton.  It seems unlikely that Clayton was assigned to anywhere other than the Cameroons or Nigeria as those are the only British subjects that could have been harassed by the Belgians.  It seems unlikely they would have gone so far afield.  Much more likely is it that Clayton was assigned to foil the German takeover of the Cameroons.  Whether he could have prevented the takeover is speculative but since he got no further than Gobon it is a moot point.

     According to Anton the story is being quashed because of the extreme improbability  in certain minds of the story being true.  No matter what happened the facts would destroy several perfectly good theories on the nature of mankind while being not only religiously offensive to a couple fiaths but ethnically offensive to very nearly the whole world.

    It is thought much better to maintain the equanimity of the world than to have this offensive, really, truth be known.  Let what is fiction remain fiction while let what is God's own truth go marching on.  After all, they say, science should be the hand maiden of religion.

     I'd really like to know where Anton gets this stuff, wouldn't you?