Chapter 1: 1: The Barstow Revolt
When I was a little girl, I saw them being brought in cages. They held on to the bars staring out, wearing their hard hats, their tool belts and little else. They looked so sad. I asked my mother, "Mommy, why are those men in cages? Did they do something bad?"
My mother said to me as if I should have known better, "Eleanor, those aren't men. They're chimps. Humans are too intelligent to perform certain types of labor. So chimps do it."
I looked back at the men in the cages and realized there were women and children in the cages too. They didn't knuckle walk and seemed only slightly bowlegged; and yes, many of them were nearly completely covered in black hair, but not of all them were completely covered in black hair. And many of them had various shades of dark brown hair.
I pointed out to my mother, "We've been to the zoo. They don't look like the chimpanzees at the zoo."
It was obvious my mother did not appreciate my questions as she told me, "Of course not, these are worker chimps, bred just for performing the labors that humans find undesirable to do."
"Why," I asked. At six years old I asked a lot of questions and my mother had never been irritated by them before.
"You don't want to be a ditch digger or a cleaning lady when you grow up, do you," she asked me.
"No," I answered. At that time of six years old, I wanted to be a ballerina and a veterinarian.
"Well, that's why," she told me. Then she told me, "Now, don't ask me any more questions about them. They'll teach you about them in school when you're a little older."
I didn't get it. She had always delighted in our question and answer sessions before. But I was a good kid so I left it alone. Of course, I really didn't have the chance to ask her anything else that day because all hell broke loose shortly after that.
An overseer had tried to take a chimp woman's baby from her. At that time, they usually managed to keep control of advanced chimps with tazing wands. But things escalated out of control quickly. So advanced gorillas were brought in who were supposed to help regain control of the situation, except the gorillas turned on them too.
In the ensuing panic, I was separated from my mother and knocked down. I screamed in pain as a woman's stiletto heel went through my little left hand. Then someone was grabbing me and setting me on my feet. It was a blond boy, just a couple of years older than me. He took my right hand and said, "Come on." We ran with him pulling me along.
"In here. Under here," he directed me. And we hid under a picnic table covered by debris with some other children. I shut my eyes tight as we clung to each other under the picnic table hidden by the debris. The screaming seemed to last forever, until darkness fell. Then we slept under there with the other children.
The incident became known as the Barstow Revolt. They, the advanced chimps and gorillas, demanded their freedom. They didn't want to be our slave labor any more. After all, they could speak and read. Why should they be our slave labor when they are physically stronger than us?
The government didn't try to fight them. Chimps and gorillas easily over power humans, trying to fight them wouldn't work. Plus, they had hostages. Was I a hostage? No. I just hid with the other children. When light broke the next day, we crept out slowly and silently.
I saw the boy properly for the first time. His hair was dark blond and he was dressed in nothing but a pair of long shorts. Thin blond hair covered most of his body. And he looked at me with the most beautiful big blue eyes I had ever seen. And there was something different about his bare feet that didn't register with me like it would have registered with my mother. Later, I would come to understand that when my mother looked at advanced chimps and gorillas, she saw animals. I just saw people.
He looked my injured hand over carefully. "We should wash it," he told me.
There was a big wading fountain near us. He held my good hand as we walked to it. In the water there, he carefully washed my injured hand.
"I'm thirsty," I informed him. I was hungry too.
He looked around and saw that the other children had lined up at a drinking fountain. He took my good hand and led me over. He asked some teens standing by the water fountain helping the smaller children, "Is the water safe?"
One of the teens nodded, "Yeah, no hinky smells or strange taste."
The boy nodded and we got in line. When we got to the fountain, he sniffed it carefully before he let me drink.
One of the teens asked the boy, "Xanthus, who is she?"
The blond boy, Xanthus, shrugged, "I think she's a pet. I found her abandoned. They were stepping on her... Did you get enough?"
I nodded and said, "Thank you." Then he drank.
A teen asked me, "What's your name?"
"Eleanor."
"Are you a pet, Eleanor," asked the teen.
"No," I answered.
They sniffed me carefully. "Maybe she doesn't know she's a pet," one teen said to another.
"Don't your feet hurt in those shoes," a teen asked me.
I looked down myself to my little Converse-like tennies, "No." My left hand was throbbing, but my feet felt fine.
"Well, you can take off your shoes and socks if you want to," the teen told me.
I liked to be barefooted so I sat down on the grass and took off my socks and shoes. The other children and teens stared at my feet. Xanthus sat next to me in the grass. There was something definitely different about my feet. They looked like perfectly ordinary little girl feet, but something was off about my big toes.
A woman walked up to the teens and asked, "Are all the children accounted for?"
"Yes," answered a teen, "But we have an extra," and she pointed to me. "We think she's a pet."
The woman stepped over and squatted down by me. She sniffed me and asked me, "What's your name?"
"Eleanor."
"I'm going to take a look at your feet, Eleanor. Okay," she told me.
I simply nodded. I wasn't sure what she was looking for as she looked at my feet. She looked between my big toe and second toe. She suddenly looked very sad. She did the same thing with my other foot, and shook her head sadly.
I asked the woman, "Is something wrong?"
She managed to smile at me, "No, Eleanor, everything's fine... Did you find her Xanthus?"
"Yes, Yana," answered Xanthus. "She got knocked down and they were stepping on her." He showed her my left hand, "Look."
"I'll look for an antibiotic ointment," Yana told Xanthus. "And food will be arriving soon... Just stay with Xanthus, Eleanor. He'll look after you."
I nodded my understanding. I was with Xanthus and the other children for two more nights and three days, until the negotiations for the freedom of advanced chimps and gorillas was concluded. Then I heard my parents calling for me. I was very excited as I ran to them. I had missed my parents greatly. But Xanthus had comforted me when I cried.
My parents hugged me and kissed me. But I noticed my mother wouldn't make eye contact with the other people. My father was different. As he held me, he kept saying, "Thank you, thank you so much."
But Yana seemed to think something was wrong, "This is your daughter?" I could hear the disbelief in her voice.
"Yes," answered my father, "this is our daughter, Eleanor."
"Mr. Richards," Yana said firmly, "it is no longer legal to keep us as pets."
"No, no, you don't understand," my father said, "I can explain. This is our daughter."
"You will explain to our elders," Yana told my father, "Follow me."
We followed Yana into a building. My father asked, "Could my wife and daughter, please, wait out here while I explain?"
Yana gave a halfhearted shrug. I sat on my mother's lap while my father was in a meeting room talking with the elders.
My mother asked me in a whisper, "Did they hurt you?"
I answered, "No." Why would anybody hurt me? And why was she whispering?
In a whisper, she asked me, "What happened to your hand?"
I told her, "I got knocked down and people were stepping on me. But Xanthus saved me."
"Xanthus," repeated my mother.
"Yes, Xanthus," I confirmed. "That's him," and I pointed at the blond boy that had saved me and taken care of me for the past three days as I slid off my mother's lap. I was happy to see him.
My mother seemed pleasantly surprised for a moment as he stepped up to us carrying a small brown bag. But when my mother looked down at his bare feet, her demeanor went back to closed off and she looked away from him.
"I brought you lunch, Eleanor," Xanthus handed me the brown bag lunch and we sat on the bench by my mother. "I thought you might be hungry."
"Thank you, Xanthus," I accepted the bag and took out an apple. Xanthus sat next to me on the bench.
"Thank you for taking care of me, Xanthus."
"I like taking care of you, Eleanor," Xanthus said sadly, "If you go away, I'll miss you."
He put an arm around me and I leaned my head sadly against his shoulder. My family wasn't from here. We were just here on a business trip with my father.
My father came out of the room. I don't know what they talked about. But I could see the relief on his face when he came out. He smiled at us. I'm sure he saw the same things my mother saw when he looked at Xanthus, but my father's demeanor didn't change. He was the same kind, loving father I had known my whole life.
"Who's your friend," my father asked me pleasantly interested.
"Xanthus," I answered.
"Xanthus," my father repeated with a smile. "It's nice to meet you, Xanthus. How did you two meet?"
"The crowd was trampling her," Xanthus informed my father. "I managed to get to her and get her up."
"He saved me, Daddy. I got knocked down. People were stepping on me. That's how my hand got hurt. Some lady stepped on me with her pointy heel."
I held my hand up for my father to see. He squatted down in front of us. His brown eyes well up with tears as he looked at my little hand. The hole the woman's stiletto heel put in my small hand was closed. But I'm sure it went through my father's head; what if she had stepped on my head or my back? She could have killed me with her damn stiletto heels. I hate stiletto heels.
My father gently ran his hand over Xanthus blond head and kissed his forehead, "Thank you, Xanthus. Thank you for saving our little girl and keeping her safe. We were very worried about her. She's our only child so she's very precious to us."
Xanthus simply said, "You're welcome."
My father and I both looked back and waved good-bye. My mother did neither. She never even said thank you like my father had. For years she would not discuss the Barstow Revolt with anyone.
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