by Charles van Wettum
‘Director Bonte, your appointment has just arrived. May I send her through?’
Due to his twenty-year anniversary as director of Bonte’s Dutch Interstellar Zoo, Jaap Bonte has been elaborately celebrated. It feels good to be recognized. He was especially tickled by the interview to the Galaxy Zoo Review, which has allowed him to extensively display his ambitions for both the zoo and for himself.
‘Is it someone from Trantor? From the Garden of Everything?’
The reactions from his colleagues in the Milky Way Arm have been mixed. Some sycophants trying to get into his graces have given him compliments. The few who haven’t responded have apparently been unable to keep their jealousy in check. The competition is steep, envy dominates and exceptional achievements like his own are looked upon with begrudging eyes – for beings that actually have eyes. Survival of the fittest is true for all species, including for zoos and their directors.
Bonte isn’t surprised that Chairman Bzzoh of the Zoo Directors Club hasn’t responded to the interview. Obviously, the Sirian knows that Bonte is out for his job – it is a disgrace that such an important position is held by a swarm intelligence. Bonte has already made several new contacts in preparation for the takeover of power; his appointment is a matter of time.
‘That’s her. The woman whose personal information you received.’
‘Very well, let her in.’
He leans back contentedly. As the highest token of recognition, he is about to be visited by a representative of the Garden of Everything on Trantor. This illustrious official has made a long journey from the Center just to meet him. It’s an honor; a unique event that must have a unique cause.
For years, there have been whispers about the ultimate exhibition on Trantor, more complete and grander than ever. That this representative should come here, right after his beautiful interview, could not possibly be a coincidence. They must be impressed by his ambitions, his decisiveness, and his creativity. An offer from the Garden of Everything would mean that he has finally surpassed the Arm, that his fame has reached the Center.
It would be justified. If he’s entirely honest, Bonte has to admit that he’s the most successful zoo director in the history of the Milky Way. And fortunately, honest is what he is most of the time. It’s the Dutch way.
***
It is clear at first glance that the visitor is indeed a representative from Trantor. Trantorians resemble supermodels, except that they are blue and over two meters tall. This specimen’s jet-black hair falls across her back like a waterfall, across a skin that shines like a cool summer’s day. Bonte would love to put a specimen of her species in an exhibit in his zoo. He loves supermodels, and he knows many zoo visitors feel the same. Sadly, he hasn’t been able to find a Trantorian willing to sign an exhibiting contract.
‘Ah, Director Bonte,’ the Trantorian echoes as she walks toward his desk. ‘It’s a privilege to meet your spirit.’ Trantorians don’t have eyes. Instead, they use a combination of echolocation and telepathic perception. During holo-communications, Bonte noticed that their face gets an erotically charged expression due to the lack of eyes. Now that he sees a live specimen for the first time, this effect is even stronger.
Bonte takes off his tie. It will help him breathe, and his guest won’t be able to see him, anyway. ‘Madam-female Dooo, it’s so good to see you.’ Her gender-address is something he found in her file, and with important conversational partners it is vital to get the details right. When his visitor turns her head to follow him in his walk through his office, her long black tresses flow around. Bonte can only avoid staring at the exposed blue breasts with pronounced effort. Or rather: he can’t.
‘No flirting, Mister Bonte. I’ll cut to the chase right away,’ Dooo echoes. Speaking costs her visible effort, probably because of the strain of bringing the frequency of her forehead membrane within the acoustic reach of humans. ‘The Garden of Everything will be launching a grand event with a completely new concept.’
Ah, Bonte thinks to himself. So that is why she is here. Finally, he will be acknowledged in the Center!
‘It will be the first overview exhibit of all the interesting species in the Milky Way. An entire planet will be set up for it. We will collect more than sixty million species and receive visitors from the entire galaxy. Mister Bonte, we will rewrite zoo history.’
Bonte nods with understanding. This will be the biggest opportunity of his career!
‘On behalf of the Central Board of the Garden of Everything, I would like to request that you, Mister Bonte…’
Here it comes!
‘… come to Trantor, to help us make this exhibit a reality.’
This is it! Shivers of satisfaction run down Bonte’s spine. He’s going to the Center, he’s going to put together a top exhibit for the biggest and best zoo in the entire Milky Way. An event that will go down in the history books. His name on the poster! “Producer Jaap Bonte”. Perhaps even “Director Jaap Bonte”.
***
When Madam-female Dooo puts the contract on the table, Bonte doesn’t have to think it through for very long. He scans the contents. A project period of five years. Wonderful pay. Housing and complete care within an Earthly atmosphere, and at an Earthly top level. A top position. Independent advisor to the Board in all areas. Member of the Quality Team (ah, that is a strategically important position, so he thinks to himself – if he hadn’t received it, he would have asked for it). Chance of promotion to board member? It’s not an explicit promise, but Bonte knows one has to create his own opportunities.
He sees that the contract doesn’t contain any fine print. This is great for his resume! Afterwards … Bonte can already imagine his appointment as chairman of the Zoo Director’s Club – no, honorary chairman, of course. He will have to adjust his level of ambition. They won’t be able to ignore him in the Arm any longer. The Sirian will crawl for him! Well, of course that’s physically impossible, but the idea makes him smile.
‘Thank you for your enthusiastic cooperation, Mister Bonte. We are over the moon with your participation,’ her voice echoes through the room. Madam-female Dooo carefully stands up, leaning far forward so as to not bump her head against the chandelier. The view takes Bonte’s breath away.
***
Housing on the zoo planet is a bit disappointing.
Jaap Bonte hadn’t realized that there wouldn’t be an earthly atmosphere everywhere on the planet surface. Now, his range of movement is limited to the building that has been set up for him. Not that he would complain. He’s living in a grand palace with every conceivable form of luxury, the service provided by the organization is perfect, the meals are better than what he was used to in Earth’s top restaurants, and the wine is exquisite. A weekly service visit from a very knowledgeable Madam-female is part of the pampering package. The service is in line with the top performance he delivers to the organization.
‘It’s not unexpected that I’m rising above the other team members at Quality. Dutch zoos are known to be outstanding and mine is superb.’ Bonte has turned to discussing everything with the Chan3, the small four-legged servants who stand at the ready for him all day. ‘That high-g-dwarf chairman is devoid of any creativity. I had to go over his head with a whole series of direct advice, the incompetent fool was simply asking for it. And you know…’
The Chan3 doesn’t respond. The headless creature calmly continues vacuuming.
‘… The Board has adopted many of these recommendations. They’re happy with me!’
Though he doesn’t play a formal role in the marketing department, he has also given his advice in that area. ‘My best proposal was to organize elections, concerning the animals that will be on display,’ he tells the Chan3 who is making the large bed.
‘I told them: let the visitors determine the categories themselves first, and then let them vote on the animals. It will increase the engagement of our patrons. It’s very simple. I’ve simply precalculated the increase of attention time per animal.’
Bonte still smiled at the thought. ‘You should have seen the faces at Quality when the message came in that the Board had adopted my advice. They were bending over like folding knives. It’s clear that I understand zoos better than all those charlatans who are in charge around here.’
The Chan3 leaves for the kitchen to program the evening meal. ‘Add on a bottle of wine. The sweet white one.’ He’s already eating vegetarian. Chan3 sometimes has a tendency to make it all a bit too over-the-top healthy.
Despite his clear success, Bonte isn’t entirely convinced that his phenomenal contributions are being appreciated enough. ‘I have to stay active,’ he tells the Chan3, who has returned to set the table. ‘They have to see me, constantly, or my way up will evaporate.’
The soup is brought in. Bonte picks the most southern chair at the long table. The place hasn’t been set, but the Chan3 will fix that.
‘My last piece of advice was to show the visitors to the exhibited creatures,’ he tells the Chan3, as it moves the cutlery. ‘Their idiotic marketing team wanted to discuss it internally first. Such nonsense, as the advantages are simply obvious: interaction with the public leads to activity among the animals and therefore, to improving the visitor experience.’
Such mutual observation is typical in his own Dutch zoo, Bonte considers, as a Chan3 brings in the soup. Bonte has always been ahead of his time.
‘I thought a discussion was unnecessary and they were holding up progress. I had no choice but to send the advice directly to the Board,’ Bonte continues, undisturbed by the staff’s work. ‘This morning it was on the agenda. I’m sure they’ll adopt the recommendation.’
The inevitability of his next success makes him gloat. The Chan3 takes away the half-empty bowl of soup. Bonte isn’t fond of thin vegetable broth.
‘My status with the Central Board has risen again, there’s no doubt about it.’ He’s a phenomenon and Bonte knows it. ‘I’m curious to see when they will adjust my position to my performance. It should be soon – it would be a pity if I have to file a recommendation for it myself.’ He chuckles at the Chan3, who is arriving with the main course. ‘I would prefer to make my career in modesty.’
Suddenly the air trembles. This is odd, as no visitors have been announced. Next to the large dinner table, the shape of the grand chairman slowly becomes visible. The Trantorian Sir-female Taaa has only visited him twice before.
‘This is important,’ it occurs to him immediately. ‘The party ultimately responsible for this planet, spending his precious time on me …’ Immediately Bonte stands up, clears his throat and heightens his senses. He must seize this opportunity.
‘Bonte. This is only a brief visit.’
Bonte bends like a straw. ‘Grand Chairman. Such honor.’ He doesn’t know much about Trantorian genders, though the chairman looks like a twin sister to the Trantorian visitor he received on Earth. Perhaps the skin was a fraction of a hue more green. He’d have to see them next to each other to make a good comparison.
The chairman stands up straight. The view is breathtaking.
‘Enough flirting,’ the chairman echoes. ‘Your advice has been adopted. There were some moral objections, initially, but because this was your recommendation, the discussion was quickly settled.’
Bonte bows slightly to receive the compliment. Fortunately, his creativity and decisiveness are being appreciated.
‘This will obviously have consequences for your own position.’ The chairman lets the echo fan out. ‘My opponent wants me to check to see if you sufficiently understand this.’
Bonte smiles. The chairman has found a diplomatic way of addressing his promotion. Perhaps he will be directly admitted to the Central Board. Within six months of starting his work – this would be a great achievement!
‘I’m aware of my own position, Sir-female Chairman,’ he says affably. ‘And I will continue my efforts to make this exhibit into a great historic success.’ Once he is on the Central Board, Bonte considers under his smile, this chairman is someone he can handle. Everything is going according to plan.
Again, the chairman bows, Bonte suspects in recognition of the future advancement of his station. Perhaps even now, to maneuver himself into position, he suddenly realizes. Should the situation occur that the new board member gains more say in the organization. Power politics work the same everywhere. The visual effect of the bow strikes Bonte speechless, and despite his best efforts, he is unable to avert his gaze. Then the chairman’s image trembles, fades, and the Trantorian dissolves into nothingness.
‘Attention. This is a service announcement,’ a voice sounds through the room, as Chan3 enters the room, with a steaming eggplant dish. Bonte looks around, surprised, as he hasn’t experienced this before. ‘Adjustment sub article 23.22 will be operational in under one minute.’ Strange, Bonte thinks. This communication might be wrongly addressed. Once he’s on the Central Board, he’ll have the communication plan thoroughly inspected.
‘Take the wine to the salon.’ Bonte leaves the dining room. His appetite has disappeared as he has to process his success. The moment he walks into the hallway, he sees the front of the palace trembling. It’s as if hot air is rising. The wall dissolves, the stone fades, and even the two large paintings dissipate. Now he can almost see through the wall. A moment later, the facade is gone.
Instead of the outer wall, Bonte sees a yellow plain – it looks like a square. The sky above it is dark green with a few dirty-brown clouds. In the square, just outside of the palace, there are a few groups of creatures. Dozens of Trantorians, and groups of members of other species a bit further away. Some of them he recognizes, from the documentaries about the Center.
Bonte sees many types of faces, but not a lot of eyes. Most species in the Milky Way are telepathic, much like the Trantorians. There are variations in body shapes, in the number of heads. Differences in the build of their limbs. Curling furs, extremely hairy species, smooth-haired, and naked ones. Almost nobody wears clothes, only a few are wearing shoes.
Telepathic. Almost all of them! They don’t see his body, of course. They see his spirit. It hadn’t sunk in so strongly before. They see … What he thinks? His feelings, whatever occurs to him. From how far away can they see him? His walls …
Suddenly, Bonte feels naked, despite his clothes. Perhaps more naked than his observers.
Before he can think it through, a rotating message appears to the left, within his line of vision. Bonte recognizes the sign. It was the first advice that the Board had adopted from him: an information sign that would determine the species of the observer, and then adjust the form of communication to that species, depicting information about the displayed animal. The sign is communicating in text. Visually. For him.
“The Terra Phenomenon: the Dutchman”, written in large letters at the top. Bonte sees a picture of the Milky Way, with a small red mark showing where Earth is located.
Underneath, in smaller letters, the factual information: “Region: Arm West. Type: Terran, oxygen-breathing. Origin: the Netherlands. Skills: none. Risk: none.”
The lowest half of the sign displays the election results. “Category biggest ego: 1st place. Category blatant self-overestimation: 1st place. Category boundless horniness: 1st place.’
His contract is for more than another four years, Bonte realizes. ‘But did I check,’ he suddenly wonders, ‘if they were Earth years?’
Charles van Wettum (born in 1957) studied both astronomy and cconomics. He spent his entire career in secondary and higher education. Only in 2022 did he switch from writing project plans to writing science fiction stories (and since then he daily spends time wondering about the differences). He prefers to write with respect for the laws of nature, and is particularly interested in the consequences of technological developments for being human. In his native language, Dutch, he has published about thirty short stories on websites, in magazines, and in anthologies. In 2023 he self-published a novel and two collections of his own short stories. In 2024 one of his stories was published in Spanish.