MICHAEL CRICHTON

ELLIOT SHIVERED, ZIPPED HIS PARKA TIGHTER, AND waited for thehailstorm to stop. They were huddled beneath a stand of evergreen trees above8,000 feet on the alpine slopes of Mount Mukenko. It was ten o’clock in themorning, and the air temperature was 38 degrees. Five hours before, they hadleft the river behind and begun their pre-dawn climb in 100-degree steamingjungle.Alongside him, Amy watched the golf ball-sized white pellets bounce on thegrass and slap the branches of the tree over their heads. She had never seenhail before.She signed, What name?“Hail,” he told her.Peter make stop.“I wish I could, Amy.”She watched the hail for a moment, then signed, Amy want go home.She had begun talking about going home the night before. Although theThoralen had worn off, she remained depressed and withdrawn. Elliot hadoffered her some food to cheer her up. She signed that she wanted milk. Whenhe told her they -had none (which she knew. perfectly well), she signed that shewanted a banana. Kahega had produced a bunch of small, slightly sour junglebananas. Amy had eaten them without objection on previous days. but she nowthrew them into the water contemptuously, signing she wanted “real bananas.”When Elliot told her that they had no real bananas, she signed, Amy want gohome.“We can’t go home now, Amy.”Amy good gorilla Peter take Amy home.She had only known him as the person in charge, the final arbiter of her dailylife in the experimental setting of Project Amy. He could think of no way to makeclear to her that he was no longer in charge, and ‘that he was not punishing herby keeping her here.In fact, they were all discouraged. Each of the expedition members had lookedforward to escaping the oppressive heat of the rain forest, but now that they wereclimbing Mukenko, their enthusiasm had quickly faded. “Christ,” Ross said. “Fromhippos to hail.”As if on cue, the hail stopped. “All right,” Munro said, “let’s get moving.”155