Denver Wilson gripped the sides of the old copier with both hands, yearning to rock it forward and back, teeth bared. He bent towards the glass surface and whispered: "I'll win this yet, you boxy beige bitch."
When he straightened, he found Amber Jojneia standing a foot away with her arms crossed. "It's not copying," he told her.
"I gathered," the woman said. "Is it on copy?"
"Of course it's on copy, Amber. What do you think I am, some sort of office monkey? The kind that looks adorable in a suit and tie, and might manage to staple something by accident as he flails around, but isn't really useful in the long run? Do you think that?" Denver leaned forward. "It's giving me an error." He jabbed a finger a the copier's screen. It read "eX000000A6."
"It's a paper jam," Amber told him, pulling open the side of the copier, revealing sheets of paper wrapped around the guts of the machine. As the wheels and other machinery tried to grind forward with nowhere to go, Amber reached a hand in and began pulling scraps out. "Feel free to help."
"It looks like you have everything under control," said Denver, straightening his tie. Rain pattered on the window to the copy room from heavy clouds. Denver imagined if he went to roof of the skyscraper they worked in he could reach up and touch their lowest level. He listened to Amber tear paper out of the copier with growing volume. Tendons stood out on her hands, and he eventually heard her grumbling. "Who pooped in your Funyuns?"
"I accidentally clicked on a Buzzfeed link a little bit ago," she said, standing upright. Her mouth was twisted, trembling. "It made me believe I would never feel joy again."
"Okay, okay," Denver said quietly. He put his arms around her shoulders. "Everything will be okay. It wasn't 'literally the best thing you'll see all day'?"
Amber pulled out of the hug. "If watching a poodle bark at a doberman is literally the best thing I see all day, I want you to shoot me in the face. It's like the end of 1984. The future is just the word 'LOL' stamping on a human face -- forever."
"Make sure to erase it from your browser's history." Denver glanced at the shreds of paper scattered around the floor. "Thanks for helping with this. I thought I was going mad. Now I can finally copy . . ." He looked at the title of the document he held. "Notes from the last shareholder's meeting."
"How did it go?"
Denver thought back. He imagined the three men in the meeting violently accusing each other of trying to ruin the business. Punches were thrown, feelings were hurt, and Denver had to copy down every word spoken. "Not the best. Mr. Eric said something about Mr. Scarborough I'm not sure should ever be written on a transcript." Denver sighed and put the sheet on the copier's glass surface, and a light began gliding under it. "Looks like neither of us are having the day we wanted." He glanced at Amber and found her glaring at an empty corner. "Hey. Snap out of it."
"I need a break," Amber said. "I know it's raining, but do you want to go down to the park?"
"What? Why?"
"I just want to have something to look at that isn't a spreadsheet or email."
"Well . . ." Denver checked the window again. The rain seemed to be getting lighter. "I could use a walk. We should go see the monkeys. At least now the -- no!" He picked up the copies as they shot out of the machine. "This is the last straw! This destructive machine has ruined my day too many times! Look!" He turned the papers toward Amber, and she found the copier had badly smeared the ink. "Let's get out of here."
As they left the copy room, Denver poked his head back in. "Don't get too comfortable, copier. You've won the battle, but I have the capacity to purchase and handle sledgehammers. This isn't over."
"Denver!"
"Coming!"
"We're being worked too hard," Amber said as she and Denver, now dressed in coats and hats, walked a few blocks to the public zoo. Rain pattered the street, and them, in light bursts. "You and I together are doing the work of five people. There's only, what, thirty of us in the entire company, and Mr. Morris expects us to work like fifty. I'm getting burned out."
"Look, the monkey cages," Denver said.
"Are you listening?"
"Yes Amber I am, but . . . the monkey cages." A loud hoot greeted them. "That's Peludo! He's my boy. You know, my monkey boy. He knows me on sight." Denver walked forward, breaking into a smile when a cage came into view. Amber joined him and found him sneaking a cherry to a tiny greyish-gold monkey with a flat face.
"It's adorable! What kind is it?"
"Peludo here is a pygmy marmoset, native to the Amazon rainforest. It's the smallest true monkey and one of the smallest primates, reaching only six inches long! And he loves cherries, doesn't he, yes he does! Yes he does!" Denver snuck another cherry to the tiny monkey, who began gobbling it. "Cherries are a sometimes food. The subsist mostly on sap and bugs. They live in groups of two to nine, with at least one of each gender, and . . . say, where are all the others?"
A man dressed as a zoo official appeared next to him. "Peludo hasn't been playing nice with the others; we had to separate him. His species are very territorial, and he seems to think he's part of a one-man troop."
"Thanks, mister," Denver said, rolling his eyes. "Can you believe this guy? It's like he's the monkey expert or something."
"Denver, he works here. I think he is the monkey expert," Amber said.
Denver wheeled on the man. "Name's Denver Wilson, amateur monkey expert."
"Chris Grace . . . actual monkey expert." They shook hands. "I've seen you around her a bunch. Want to buy a monkey?"
Amber and Denver glared at the man with differing expressions. Amber's was surprised and distrusting, while Denver's was surprised and elated. He looked at her with his mouth hanging open and the corners of his lips lifted into his cheeks.
"No."
"Amber, be reasonable."
"No!"
"I've always wanted a monkey!"
"Denver!"
"My house has plenty of space for a little guy like this!" Denver twiddled his finger within the tight chain links of the fence separating Peludo from them. The monkey put tiny fingers around his. "See? He already knows how to shake hands."
"You're going to want more space than a house has," Chris said. "These little guys tend to like roaming. Their main diet is-"
"Tree sap, I know. They bite it and suck it out, but also leave some for bugs and eat the bugs. He would be great with pest control! Amber!"
"Denver, he already said you need more space than your house has! You'd need, like, the office at work!" As soon as she said it, she emitted a long sigh and slumped her shoulders. Denver's smile had, impossibly, gotten larger. "That is such a bad idea."
"I could make the unused storage closet into a habitat, and get some bark with the sap still in it. They sell that, right?" Denver looked at Chris, who shrugged. "Right. He could wear a little diaper -- or I could potty train him!"
"A spectacularly bad idea."
"It's like he could be the company's mascot! Something to raise the spirits! Everyone likes monkeys!"
"No, not everyone likes monkeys. They're dangerous and carry disease, and I'm sure a number of groups would accuse you of animal cruelty if you kept it cooped up in the office."
"I'd take it for walks."
"Denver!"
"I wouldn't wait," Chris said. "We've had a few prospective buyers already. A couple of zoos, a few . . . private collectors."
"Amber, I have to act fast!"
"This man clearly wearing a stolen zookeeper outfit is trying to trick you into paying him for a dangerous animal that likely isn't even his. Denver, this is going to be the dumbest thing you'll ever do."
"Clearly you never heard about when I was the Tin Man in my college's production of the Wizard of Oz. They had to throw the suit away."
Denver took advantage of Amber's shocked silence to bring Chris in with an arm. "Let's further discuss the details of the transaction at a later time. I'll speak with my people, you speak with your people, and in the meantime I'll make sure you actually have people. Sound fair?"
"Fair enough," Chris replied.
"Are you really going to try and have a monkey live at the office without anyone finding out about it?" Amber asked, aghast, furious, and wet from the still-falling rain.
"Nope!" Denver said happily, speeding up.
Denver emerged from the conference room, full of dignity and with a blank expression on his face. He shut the door behind him and looked at Amber, who leaned on the wall outside. Without a word, he pumped his fist, holding it in front of his torso in the international symbol for "yeah baby."
Amber gasped. "No! No!"
"Yes," a voice said from the door behind Denver. "Yes." Mr. Morris, president of the company, a small bald man, materialized next to Denver, who still held the fist pump. "Denver was able to convince us it would be a good way to spread word about the company. He explained the size of the beast, and assured me he would work to make sure it is treated properly, and acts according to the standards of the company."
"He's a monkey!" Amber said.
"That's true," Morris said. "Which means we won't have to pay him anything." He disappeared, and Amber couldn't be sure there wasn't a flash.
Denver finally dropped the fist pump. "Chris checks out. The zoo is actually intending to sell Peludo. And for a very reasonable price!" Amber could only stare in shock. "I bet you've forgotten all about that awful Buzzfeed article now, haven't you?"
She frowned at him. "Denver . . . I don't even know where to begin." She put both hands over her face. "Where is it going to sleep? Could it get hurt? Doesn't it need other monkeys with it?"
Mentally Amber saw a puff of smoke, and then found Mr. Morris standing next to her. "You ask the tough questions, Miss Jojneia. I want you to help Denver make the animal comfortable."
Amber opened her mouth to respond, but the president was already gone. "Thanks, Mile High. Now I have even more work to do!"
"Don't worry about it. I'll handle everything. Now, if you'll excuse me-" Denver swung his coat over a shoulder "-I have to go purchase a monkey."
He left her standing in the hallway, and then reappeared. "Man, seven-year-old me would be so jealous right now. Toodles!"
The next day, monkey-related work began. The first thing Amber had to deal with was people asking her if the company-wide email sent earlier was a joke, and then try and answer their questions when she said it wasn't. After Denver came in, they started to make a list of things they would need. Special food, areas for the monkey to sleep, toys and things to distract it, and, Amber emphatically told Denver she would not be assisting with it, a litter box.
"We may have to have him on diapers for a bit before he gets it. I'm sure it won't take long."
When Denver said this Amber had her face pressed against the table they sat at. She worked hard to keep the tears in. "I wonder if normal kitty litter will work?" Denver asked himself, looking up at the ceiling. "I don't see why not."
"You need to do a lot more study before I feel comfortable letting you take care of an animal. Thank goodness you don't have a child."
"Wouldn't that make you feel better?"
"Only the barest amount," Amber said. "Do research, online and from books. Understand?"
"Amber, I know you think I'm being very flippant about the whole 'owning and caring for a monkey' business, but I can assure you, I am being entirely serious. Ha, monkey business." Denver laid his hand flat on the table. "I fully intend to make Peludo's stay here comfortable and long, something to tell the grandbaby pygmy marmosets when he's old and grayer and sitting in a comfortable armchair, with the youngest on his tiny knee, looking up at him with big baby marmoset eyes."
Amber looked on in surprise as Denver reached into a previously-unseen bag and brought out a dozen thick books. "This one is about the habitat, the western Amazon basin," he said, dropping the first on the table with a loud thump. "This one is all about their diet. I've already tried a few recipes for Arabic gum, and we'll have to see which one the little guy likes the best. This one is all about general care and training and is written by noted marmoset expert Marguerite Vadeboncoeur. I have been staying up until the late hours of the morning reading online. Look at these bags!" He pointed to the purple discolorations under his eyes, which Amber hadn't noticed. "Amber, I am ready and willing to put in the work to do this."
Amber sat gazing at the numerous books in front of her. She looked up at Denver, who stood ready to jump onto the table and imitate a marmoset himself. "I'm sorry Denver, I didn't know how much this meant to you. It looks like you're really putting in the work to make sure this goes well."
"Plus, if I can train him well enough, we might even be able to fight crime together!"
Leaning back in her chair, Amber sighed. "That sounds more like the Denver I'm familiar with."
A week passed, and the funds moved from the company's bank to the zoo's -- Amber continually felt like she lived in a dream as the process wore on.
And so the great pygmy marmoset experiment of 2015 began. Peludo met the staff of the company dressed in a tiny diaper. Peludo, not the staff. His half-foot-long body elicited stunned stares by those unaware of the pygmy marmoset's famous size. Denver led it to an unused store room he had appropriated as the monkey's home base. When Denver opened the door, Amber got her first look. It was as if a rainforest had been crammed inside.
PVC tubing ran from floor to ceiling, and sometimes to the walls, wrapped with rope and carpeting, simulating trees. Soft surfaces covered the walls, and the bottom level had a long trough filled with odor-soaking kitty litter -- Amber forced Denver to choose such. It was cramped for a human, but a tiny monkey like Peludo it would feel much like home. The door had holes cut in the top near the ceiling for the monkey to exit and enter, and Denver had even worked with the electrician to ensure the light in the store room had the proper light and temperature.
From the hole in the door, a huge network of passages were built into the ceiling. Amber and the other workers had seen them appear overnight, grower larger and more elaborate. At the same time Denver had sunken into a dazed and confused state, mumbling about Vitamin D3 supplements, proper temperature, and – worrying Amber to no end – 'scent glands.'
"They mark their territory with scents," Denver said. "I'll just need to be careful about where I clean."
The passages in the ceiling led to all over the small company: nets and tubes around the work space, a long passage leading to a big cage in the lobby, and similar cages, though smaller, in the mail room, copy room, and production facility.
"They love to roam, and will get bored if they see the same thing the whole time. This will give him more stimulation. I wish we could have an outdoor enclosure, but there's no way."
Denver eased Peludo into the store room, shut the door, and went to a nearby computer, where he brought up a camera. "It's in one of the fake monkeys. Marmosets are pretty social, so I rigged up a few robots to simulate friends." As Denver spoke, on the screen Peludo look around the space, picked at the hem of his diaper, took a leap to a plastic tree, scratched himself, and then jumped again to land next to the camera. He opened his mouth to show small, flat teeth, then looked away and jumped to one of the shelves in the shade of the heat lamp. A tail flicked out and then back in. "I'll need to figure out some conjugal visits to keep him relaxed. Trust me, you don't want a horny pygmy marmoset on your hands. I'm in with a few chat groups and have a few leads on eligible females already, but they'll have to be vetted. Only the best for my little guy."
The crowd dispersed, muttering about the change. "Training will be a difficult process," Denver said as Amber followed him to his cubicle. "Teaching him to poop in the box, for one. Teaching him to only mark his scent in the store room would make things easier but I don't know how possible it is. Cleansing everything but the store room may help him feel most comfortable there. Luckily, even just with the store room he has a huge amount of space. Most people say about a hundred square feet for one, and there's almost two hundred in there easy."
"Denver . . . " Amber sighed. "Are you sure he's going to be happy here? He's a wild animal."
Denver didn't respond. He brought up a stream of the webcam, which now showed the monkey jumping from one shelf to another over and over. "He seems to like it." They watched the screen for a few seconds. "I know it's going to be hard work, and I know he may not love it, but I'm going to try very hard to make him comfortable."
"Well. All right." Amber stepped out of the cubicle. "Good luck."
Denver nodded to himself as he watched the screen. Peludo investigated one of the Arabic gum samples Denver had set out, scraping it with his teeth.
Early the next morning Denver opened the door to Peludo's room and found the monkey dozing on the second-highest level of shelving. Denver roused him and changed his diaper, and emphatically demonstrated to the monkey the use and function of the litter box set on the floor by dropping the small pellets into it as Peludo watched. He gave him a drop of D3 solution with half a grape, which the monkey happily gobbled, and then Denver presented a small platter of foods: canned marmoset diet, fresh fruit and vegetables, tiny pieces of egg and yogurt, mealworms, and crickets. The monkey ate a variety of the food, which Denver carefully recorded.
Once breakfast was done, man and monkey toured the company's small building. Denver held Peludo carefully with a glove and showed off the lobby, mail room, kitchen and dining room, and everywhere else he had the notion to, including the bathrooms, which served only to freak the small monkey out. Denver mentally concluded the amazon's noted lack of mirrors.
Returning Peludo to his home, he watched the monkey bask for a minute in the light of the heat lamps, then take to the enclosed network hung on the ceiling. He explored relentlessly, going back and forth from the established zones Denver had laid out. Finding the fresh air from the lobby comfortable for the moment, he hung out in the large cage connected there, chattering with the dismayed receptionist -- Denver told her to find him if anything seemed awry. The receptionist looked at him with a frenzied look, but quickly found herself adapting to the monkey's presence, since it would emit a short call ever time someone would enter.
After a little while spent there, Peludo found his way to the mail room, with its many interesting smells, and decided to mark his territory. This lead to a flurry of angry emails from the mail staff to Denver, and his quick cleansing of the area.
When Amber arrived, she saw the monkey going from the mail room to its home room. She went to Denver.
"How's it been?" She asked.
"Marmoset urine stinks."
"Okay." She made to leave, but he stopped her.
"It's going fine. He's very cheerful. He enjoyed the lobby. I'm thinking about getting him neutered, since that makes his scent glands and urine smell way better. Plus, he won't get randy. But then I think about it and I'm like, would I want someone to neuter me?"
Amber thought about it. "It would make weekends easier."
"Anyway, he seems to be adapting pretty well." Just then the monkey climbed over them, chirped something at Amber, and wandered toward the copy room. "He's very friendly with humans; I wonder why he was being so testy with the other marmosets?"
"Maybe he's the monkey version of a cat lady," Amber said. "Doesn't get along with its own species but is fine with others."
"You're saying he's a crazy human monkey?"
"Something like that."
"It's possible. Did you do what I asked?"
"Of course I did," Amber said. "Simple, colorful toys are probably going to be best. He won't need a whole lot I think, he just came from a zoo enclosure. If we get a bunch of different things and rotate them out irregularly it will keep him from getting bored, which I hear is a common problem."
"It is. I'm going to give him different food each day for the same reason."
They heard a noise, and looked at the ceiling, where Peludo reached out a tiny hand for something. One of the people walking under him shook hands with the monkey using his pinky. Peludo chirped something and headed for his home room. "See? Everything's working fine. There are no problems whatsoever."
Four hours later, at about noon, a low, long, piercing call came out of the monkey's home room, surprising everyone. Denver rose swiftly and opened the door. Peludo perched on one of the pipe trees and, seeing him, chirped happily, jumping to his shoulder.
"Was that you?" Denver asked. Instead of answering, Peludo leapt down to the litter box and stood motionless in it momentarily. Denver seized him and quickly took off the diaper. "There's progress, at least. We'll have to work on that."
Wrapped up once more, the monkey moved to the top shelf and laid out in the light of the heat lamp, tail flicking casually. Denver shrugged and closed the door. Amber stood outside with her head tilted. He shrugged. "You heard it too? No idea," he said when Amber nodded. "I guess it was just some noise. It wasn't in any of the books I read. He could have just needed to poop."
Amber frowned and opened her mouth to talk, then closed it and walked away. An hour later, in the copy room, she watched the light from the scanner slide under her document and was snapped out of her thoughts by a chirp behind her. She turned, flustered, and found Peludo in his cage, pressing his face against the small bars of his enclosure. She breathed out. "Sup."
The monkey jumped from end to end of the cage, chirping happily. "At least someone is enjoying themselves today," Amber said, glancing out the window at the rain. "I suppose it's possible to have fun everywhere if you're five inches long." She frowned at herself, and then bent down and put her face near the cage. Peludo stuck a hand out quickly and brushed her nose, and she jerked back.
"All right monkey, let's get a few things straight." She put her hands on her hips. Peludo watched her, his head tilting back and forth. "I'm not a fan of your presence here. I'm busy enough without having to take care of your tiny ass. Make sure I don't catch you peeing on something I need or anything like that, or you'll be out of here so fast you'll wish you had evolved into something that can fly." She put her face near the cage again, but not close enough for Peludo to scratch her nose again. "Ha. Look who's been outsmarted."
"Amber." She stood up quickly and found Denver watching her from the doorway, holding a cup of coffee. "Are you teasing the monkey?"
"He started it!" Amber rocked back, smelling something foul. "Oh my . . . is that the scent glands?!" She gagged, feeling like a garbage man had thrust his fist down her throat. "I'm going to throw up!"
"Damn it Peludo!" Denver set his cup down outside the room and ran away, returning quickly with cleaning supplies. "He's doing this a lot. It's just cause he's in a new environment, eventually he'll stop!" Tortured cries came from outside the room. "Don't worry, don't worry, I'll clean it up!" He popped on a cloth mask over his face and misted the marmoset with a spray. "Bad Peludo! No!" Peludo screeched and dashed up his tube to the system on the ceiling, making tracks toward his home room.
"He'll grow out of it, I swear!" Denver repeated. "He's just . . . It's unfamiliar territory!"
Amber excused herself from the room at a hurry, finding solace in the fresher air on the street. She took some time to herself, trying not to think too hard about the smell she had just been subjected to. When she went back inside, Peludo was sucking on a piece of wood. He glared at her with what she assumed was tiny, furious monkey hate, and she responded in kind. The receptionist, an old woman, greeted her with her normal cheer. Amber responded with a grunt.
In the next few weeks, Peludo determined a schedule for himself. During the night he would clamber around, screeching to his heart's content, scratching himself and using all of the energy packed within his three-and-a-half ounce body to free himself from the network of paths in the ceiling, but he was ever unable.
He spent the rest of the night jumping in the simulated night of his home room and gnawing on the Arabic gum-infused wood, just a few small LED lights providing illumination. During the early morning he napped until the heat lamp flickered on, at which he would wait for Denver to appear with a choice selection of food.
After breakfast he went to the lobby to greet the workers, except during the weekend, when he would rest and relax and save his energy for the work week. Denver would still show up, ready to handle and feed him, and work on the house training. Peludo knew dropping squats in the sand got him a tasty grape, so there was no reason not to. It made the human happy. During the week he would chirp a greeting to each of the humans as they entered the building, cataloging their smells. Every time someone new entered -- such as a delivery man or customer -- he would look on in excitement, willing them to come closer and hang with him in the cage.
After a few hours he would make the rounds from the copy room to the mail room and the production facility, full of interesting smells, sounds, and sights. Afterward it was time to go back to the home room for a bit of jumping and wood gnawing. After lunch was free time, used mostly for lying in the heat lamps. Denver or Amber would sometimes come and pick him up, to take him around the office, holding carefully -- and in Amber's case very carefully, as well as at arm's length -- to give him more variety. Peludo enjoyed this since it gave him a chance to spend time with those entering and leaving. Many wanted nothing to do with him, but a few held him carefully in their him-sized hands.
Once back in his room, it was nap time, or play time with the numerous colorful items provided to him. After a few more hours Denver would appear again with food, refilling water or gum and checking the sand. At this time Peludo would down some food, head to the lobby to say goodnight to everyone, and then return to the room for a leisurely dinner in the heat lamp's dying light. Then it was back to screeching, climbing, and sleeping.
Then, one day, the pain in his chest came back.
Denver watched the monkey's screen with furrowed brows. Instead of leaping around like he normally was this early, Peludo sat in the shade of one of the shelves, tail hanging motionless. Denver opened the door, shutting out the traditional foul smell from the scent glands and litter box -- and found the air clean. Cleaner, at least, but still worrying. There was nothing foreign in the litter box, and when picked up Peludo gave no morning greeting.
"Hey little guy. What's going on?" Denver asked, turning the monkey around, looking for injuries. He offered the monkey food, but Peludo had no appetite. "That's not good." Denver bit his lip and set Peludo down on one of the soft shelf sections, then went to find a phone, contacting the veterinarian the zoo had referred him to. After speaking briefly, Denver packed the ailing monkey in a carrier and got into his car, heading to the outskirts of the city.
Amber and her coworkers all looked around confused when they entered the building, expecting a friendly chirp from the marmoset. Instead, they found an empty cage, an empty room, and Denver's vacant cubicle. Amber sent him a text message but received nothing in response. The office buzzed; everyone was worried.
Four hours after he left, Denver returned with the monkey. Peludo was still quiet and morose. Denver was jumped by the entire staff the moment he appeared, and begged for peace until Peludo was back in his room.
"I met with a doctor Yarmintz," Denver began. "He's one of the doctors the zoo has agreements with. He checked Peludo over but didn't find anything wrong with him. I told him Peludo was usually very active, and that he hadn't pooped all night. Of course, while we were there, Peludo finally squeezed one out right on his table. Yarmintz was glad of it for some reason, and said he would check it out right away. He told me to track his progress while he did the tests." Denver looked down. "That's all."
Their coworkers told him it would be all right, and then wandered away to their own desks, leaving Amber and Denver. "What do you think it could be?"
Denver shrugged. "They can catch any disease humans can. It could be a chest cold, or it could be malaria. He is a monkey, after all. He was brought into captivity down in Peru. Who knows what he could have?"
"He's going to be all right Denver."
"Maybe." Denver sat at his desk and started working, trying his hardest to ignore the fact Amber still stood near him. She sighed and walked out.
And, to her great surprise, found work too quiet. She was used to the occasional chirp, louder call, or barely-noticeable rustle of the monkey moving through the path over her head. She scowled at herself, surprised at the admission. She tried to ignore the quiet, but it was always there. She clenched her teeth and worked through it, trying not to realize she worried for Denver and the monkey.
In the copy room, she choose to stare out the window at the constant, unending rain rather than look at the small cage in the corner. Peludo had taken to keeping her company when she was in the copy room, and she felt his absence even stronger there. Rain struck the window, trying to fill the void, but there was no replacing an active monkey.
The receptionist appeared in the doorway, bringing her out of her thoughts. "Amber dear, there's someone at the front for you and Denver." Amber frowned and asked who it was. "Says he's from the paper."
Amber asked her to fetch Denver, and then went to the lobby, where a young man in a sports coat stood to shake her hand.
"You must be Miss Jojneia."
"Yes, but it's pronounced 'yoy-neah.' You are?"
"Hector Thompson from the Seattle Heritage. We heard about the newest addition to your little company and thought it would be a great piece for the next issue." Hector looked sideways at the empty cage in the lobby. "Is the monkey available?"
Amber stood still, trying to get her mouth closed, when Denver showed up behind her. "And this is Mr. Wilson? Hector Thompson, Seattle Heritage. We're here about your monkey."
Denver's eyes shot wide open, taking in the reporter. "Of course! Why don't you follow me to a meeting room?" He went close to Amber and hissed: "did you know about this?"
"No!" Amber whispered back. "I certainly would have rescheduled if I did!"
They entered a small room with a table and three chairs, and Hector began taking out items from his bag. A camera, pad of paper, and a recorder. "I'm just going to be using this for notes. You're all right with going on record?"
Amber nodded; Denver's head more of flopped forward onto his chest and then snapped back up. "Excellent." Hector wrote down a few things. "Now your monkey is a . . .?"
"He's a pygmy marmoset. The smallest monkey in the world, though not the smallest primate -- that would be the mouse lemur. Peludo is about five inches long a little under a hundred grams, or about point two pounds," Denver said, a smile etched between his lips. "He's eleven years old."
"Is that old for a monkey?"
"Wild pygmy marmosets don't live far beyond that, but those in captivity can last up to . . . twenty years."
Hector nodded. "And he's been with you for how long? When did you get him? Was the process difficult? It must have been interesting getting an office building, even a small one like this, so a monkey can live inside."
Amber watched Denver's face worriedly. "It was a lot of work. I was the one with the idea so I was made . . . project manager, let's say. I spent a week reading everything I could get my hands on, talking with experts at zoos, making sure I was doing everything I could to make Peludo comfortable and safe."
The interview continued, and an outside observer would have had no idea Denver hurt. Amber could see it, though, and was waiting for the dam to break. It happened, at last, when the reporter asked to see the monkey's home room, which Denver had described in great detail, and take pictures.
"I'm afraid . . ." Denver's lips pressed together. "This morning Peludo exhibited symptoms of an illness. We aren't sure what it is, but he isn't himself right now. I don't believe he's contagious through normal means, but . . ."
"Just one picture would suit my needs," Hector said. "I'm willing to come back later, but my editor would like the piece quickly."
"I . . . I suppose it would be all right for one picture. Amber, why don't you take him to the room?"
Amber and Hector left the meeting room and went to Peludo's home room as Denver went for something else, coming back with the cloth masks he used when he cleaned the monkey's cages. "Just as a precaution." He put on the gloves he used to handle Peludo, and opened the door. Hector whistled.
"Looks comfy, especially for such a little guy!" He searched for Peludo, finding him when the monkey chirped. "He doesn't look sick."
"He's usually bouncing around and being very vocal. Much more vocal than this," Denver said, entering. He took Peludo from a shelf and held him carefully. The monkey's tiny hands wrapped around his fingers, pressing his face close to the material of the glove.
"Isn't that just adorable." Hector brought the camera close to Denver's hands and focused. "Smile, little guy." He took a few quick shots, and Denver replaced Peludo. "If possible I'd just like to take a few pictures of the room?"
"Okay," Denver said, glancing at Amber, who stood behind Hector. She shrugged.
Hector took the pictures, and then asked if Denver could reposition Peludo onto one of the plastic trees in the middle of the room. Denver sighed and carefully moved the ailing monkey to the center tree. Peludo didn't seem to mind, and clung to the padded area, staring at the newcomer. Hector took more pictures. "Can we-"
"I'm sorry, Peludo needs to rest, and Denver and I have plenty of work to do still today," Amber said, taking the reporter's shoulders and leading him away from the monkey's room. "I really hope that's enough for you to write the story, because you'll have to leave now. So sorry, you know how it is, busy professionals and that sort of thing."
"Just one quick question? What is it your company produces?" Hector stuck the recorder under Amber's mouth; her eyes swiveled down at it.
"We aid in the production and development of a much larger company called Protecht. They make self-defense equipment," Amber said, eyes narrowing to dark slits. "Would you like a demonstration?"
"No, I think I have all I need," Hector said. "Thanks to both of you for the chance to do this. I have both of your emails if I have any follow-up questions." Hector spun on a heel and disappeared outdoors into the rain.
"How did he get our emails?" Denver asked.
"I don't know. Some evil reporter trick. How's Peludo?"
"The same." Denver sighed and rubbed his head. "He didn't like being disturbed, but his condition hasn't changed at all. I need to get back to work. Nice thinking on that self-defense line, by the way."
"I don't think he understood the implication," Amber said. "And now, I think, he actually believes we make self-defense products instead of-"
"Miss Jojneia, Mr. Wilson, was that the reporter from the Heritage?" Mr. Morris said, standing between them. Amber and Denver looked at each other over his bald dome, confused. "I hope you told him everything you could. We have a chance for some easy publicity if word gets around that we have a cute little animal crawling around. A feel-good piece like this is bound to get some traction on the internet."
The small man disappeared once more, leaving Amber and Denver in the lobby. Denver was looking around for the president's escape route, but Amber stared into space with her mouth hanging open. When Denver noticed, he waved his hand in front of her face, getting no response. "Amber? You all right?"
Amber sucked in a breath as the color drained out of her face. "This Company's Exotic Pet is Literally the Cutest Thing You Will See All Day," she intoned, and Denver seemed to hear the capitalization, realizing she spoke the words as a title to something.
"Come again?"
"We just got interviewed for something that could turn into a Buzzfeed article."
"Hey, come on," Denver said. "Don't think like that right now Amber!" One of us has to be strong right now!"
"The Heritage is going to write it, and it's going to be well thought-out, and informative, and flattering, and in-depth, and then Buzzfeed is going to get its grubby mitts on it and turn it into a page with a bunch of pictures and a single sentence attached to each one!" She closed her eyes. "Garbage-people will put it on Facebook, and other garbage-people will like it!"
"I don't want our sick monkey to go on Buzzfeed!" Denver said, trying to keep the tears back. "It's like the internet's appendix! It doesn't do anything, and most people have it removed!"
The receptionist, whose name was Pam, and who had just gotten back from the bathroom after her husband's ill-advised attempt to make spaghetti squash the night before, found two grown adults hanging on to each other and weeping. She first thought the worst, but then realized Peludo, who had apparently gotten enough strength back to go to the lobby for a change of scenery, was staring at Amber and Denver with the same confused look.
"Is anything the matter dears?" Pam asked. Amber and Denver detached quickly, smoothing their clothing.
"Ah, it's . . . complicated," Denver said.
"Personal," Amber said at the same time.
Pam just nodded and sat at her desk. Best not to get involved, she knew.
Over the next few days, Peludo seemed to recover slightly, though he never fully regained the unstoppable exuberance he had exhibited when first brought to the company. He at least found the strength to eat properly, and make his daily rounds around the company, greeting each worker as he or she entered the building, and spending time with Amber in the copy room.
Every once in a while, perhaps once a day, Denver would hear the longer, lower sound Peludo had emitted, though it seemed to have no bearing on time or activity.
Five days after taking him in to see the doctor, Denver got a call from Yarmintz, who said yes, Peludo is certainly sick. However, no, he didn't know what it was. Yarmintz instructed Denver to carefully track the monkey -- how often he pooped, how much he ate, periods of low activity -- anything unnatural. Denver knew it was up to him to watch over the monkey. He arrived even earlier, and carefully made notes of everything he could.
Peludo's condition had a slow rise and fall. For a few days he would be fine, bouncing around his area happily, greeting each person as they entered, napping in the light of the heat lamp, and eating well. Then, for a few days, he would begin to show less energy and a smaller appetite before sinking into the quiet and sickly way Denver had first found him.
Amber found herself waiting, impatiently, for the Seattle Heritage's story to be published. She could not pinpoint the story's importance to her, other than her presence within it. She wondered if it was just a way to keep her mind off of Peludo's sickness. As the days went by she realized it didn't seem to be working, and her worry for the monkey grew. She seemed to have forgotten her dislike of the monkey, and now spent her time in the quiet copy room, dealing with the uncooperative machine within, worried. Once, during yet another rainy day, the copier chirped at her, and she spun, thinking Peludo was in his cage watching her. Her expression didn't change when she saw it was still empty, but she raged against sadness inside.
One day, two weeks after being interviewed, Amber was fed up, and found Hector's number, calling him. She spoke sweetly, asking him when he thought the story would go up.
"Well, to be honest, it's been put on the back burner for now," Hector said. "It's a little too dry."
Amber sat with the phone in her hand, frowning. "It's a great piece I think," Hector continued over her silence, "but it doesn't have that grip, you know?"
"He's sick," Amber said, without thinking. "The monkey is sick. We don't know what it is. We-"
Two forces within Amber, one telling her it isn't worth it to lie, and the other valiantly saying it would make for a more interesting story, fought briefly. "We think he might be dying."
"Really? My goodness!" She heard Hector scrambling on the other end. "That's a much better story! Let me talk to my editor!"
Amber sat in her own guilt, and the contracted slime of a reporter using a creature's suffering to sell a story, waiting for Hector to return. After about five minutes she heard noises again. "Are you free today?"
"No," Amber said. "I'm too busy. Tomorrow is better."
"Tomorrow it is," Hector said. "Say, ten?"
After the call, Amber dragged herself to Denver's cubicle. "How's he doing today?"
"Not good," Denver said, bringing up the camera for Peludo's room. The monkey sat on one of the plastic trees in the light, tail curling and uncurling slowly. "It seems like he's getting worse. He's usually starting to do better by now."
"Uh . . . that reporter is coming again tomorrow."
"What? Why?"
"I . . . I told him that Peludo was getting sicker, and he thought it would make a better story." Amber watched Denver's face turn stony. "Look . . . maybe it will help!"
"How, exactly, could that possibly help?!"
"I don't know . . . maybe Peludo's just lonely, and having the reporter around will make him feel better. Didn't you say they're really social creatures?"
"Yeah. But he hangs out with us all the time! Before he got sick, every single person in the company said hello to him every morning!"
"Well, I don't know. Anyway, Hector's coming at ten tomorrow."
"Fine."
"Fine."
Amber stalked out, now feeling angry, guilty, sad, and tired, just as a bow on top of the wonderful cake.
"Why don't you start with what the monkey has?" Hector asked as they sat in the same room as before. He had his notepad, camera, and recorder out as usual.
Denver frowned at Amber. "We don't know what he has. Our doctor isn't able to figure it out."
"What are the symptoms?"
Denver sighed. "He rarely eats, and when he does it looks like he can't swallow very well. He doesn't have a lot of energy a lot of days, and . . . it sort of looks like he's in pain. In his chest."
Hector nodded, rapidly writing. "Anything else? Coughing, sneezing, anything cute like that?"
"No, not anything . . . cute." Denver blinked a few times. "I can't really be sure of anything else, other than he's just sluggish and slow at times."
"Hmm, okay. Can you say anything about how he acted before?"
Denver went on, struggling, trying not to get too angry at the man profiting from Peludo. The reporter dove into Peludo's day-to-day, and how the disease changed it, and again requested pictures. "To play up the illness angle. We just need to make him look sad, that's all."
"Right. That's all," Denver repeated. Again, Amber took Hector to the room while Denver got gloves and masks. "Okay, here we go," Denver said to himself as he opened the door.
Peludo peered out from a padded area like a bed he had taken to sleeping in. Denver held out a hand and Peludo slowly climbed in, gazing up at him.
"Wow, you're right. He seems even worse than before," Hector said. "Okay, a couple of close shots should do it." Snapping a few pictures of Peludo clinging to a few of Denver's fingers, he then looked around. "Any way he could be eating something? A little bit of fruit or something?"
Amber took a small piece of apple from a bowl and handed it to Peludo, who did little more than put his mouth over the apple, big eyes staring at Hector as the camera snapped. "That's good, that's real good. It's tugging at the heartstrings."
Denver looked down at Peludo, wrapped in his hands, with a bit of apple shoved into his mouth but not chewing, tiny fingers gripping Denver's bigger ones weakly. The monkey's head swiveled to catch Denver's eye. He took the bit of apple out of his mouth and held it out to Denver. Hector took a picture.
"That's it. That's the picture." He beamed. "My editor will want to run this as soon as possible. I wouldn't be surprised if it's up day after tomorrow. Maybe even tomorrow!"
"Thank you," Denver said, in almost a whisper. Amber nearly didn't hear it. He put Peludo back on the tree. "I'll ask you to leave now."
"Sorry?" Hector asked, halted in the process of putting his camera away.
"Go," Denver said, a little bit louder than before. "Go!" He said, louder still. "Just get out!"
"Denver-"
"I don't want to see you ever again," Denver said, trying to bring his volume down. "Get out."
"Let's go, Mr. Thompson," Amber said, fearing an even more destructive outburst. She led the reporter to the front lobby with her hand on his shoulder. "Denver is in a very emotional place right now. Peludo is his friend."
Hector looked at her with a blank expression. "Who's Peludo?"
Amber blinked quickly. She looked down at her feet, drawing in breath. A brief, gory scene -- involving different parts of Hector being separated from each other in a violent and irreversible fashion – flashed past her eyes. Her face remained impassive. Denver's furious words echoed in her memory still. "Peludo . . . is the monkey's name, Mr. Thompson. Surely you . . . you wrote that down? I looked it up. It's the Spanish word for hairy. That was something you took the time to record in between clearing a space for the Pulitzer on your desk? Perhaps you remembered that the creature occupying center stage of the story you're coming here for even has a name?" She said all this with a wide, straining smile on her face. "Go, Mr. Thompson, and do not return, because Denver isn't the only one that doesn't ever want to see you again. And, if you happen to find your heart at the bottom of your desk drawer when you're searching for somewhere to put all your other accolades . . . you will remember . . . that the monkey has a name."
Amber watched the reporter exit the building hurriedly, feeling no shortage of forcefulness flowing from her to him. Once he was out of sight Amber's shoulders slumped and she let out the air remaining in her lungs.
"Don't worry dear," Pam said behind her, startling her. "I won't let him back in the building."
"Thank you Pam," Amber said, before dragging her feet to Denver's cubicle. "I'm sorry, Denver," she said. "I thought it would be able to help us." Denver said nothing. She closed her eyes. "I'm really sorry."
"Is he gone?"
"Yeah. I told him to stay away. In no uncertain terms."
Denver stared at the screen. Amber couldn't see it, but she assumed he watched the feed from Peludo's room. "He'll get better, Denver. It's just a little sickness."
"The doctor doesn't know what it is," Denver reminded her. "He's a primate specialist with all the zoos around here. He's a primate specialist and he doesn't know why our monkey is sick."
"There's an explanation."
Denver said nothing for a few seconds, eyes down. He finally looked up at her. "Did you tell off that reporter? In a good way?"
"I insinuated he was a heartless monster."
"What do you think the chances are he'll take it out on us in his story?"
Amber thought about it. "Little. I don't think he has the courage to do it."
Denver frowned. "Why?"
"Because while he's clearing a spot on his mantle for a Pulitzer, I'll be clearing a spot for his balls. They're mine now, and I will display them proudly, and tell my grandchildren about them."
"With the youngest on your knee, as it looks up at you with big eyes?"
"The only way I'd have it."
The story appeared in the Seattle Heritage the next day, on the front page of the local section. The leading picture was of Peludo glancing up at Denver, a tiny bit out of focus, the monkey holding the miniscule piece of apple in one hand and clinging to Denver's finger with the other. It ran next to the text of the article, detailing the system Peludo used to get around, Denver and Amber (although Amber was relegated to a nameless helper), and finally got to the purpose of the article, Peludo's sickness. It recounted the details Denver had given Hector, filtered through a writer's vision.
"There, I got what I wanted," Amber said. "There's a story about us. About you and Denver. About the company."
"'Denver's emotions ran high during the interview,'" Denver read. "'At times, he was barely able to speak, so overcome with emotion for an ailing friend.'" Denver sighed. "Something like that, anyway." He put the paper down on his desk. "So now what? We just sit and wait for Peludo to get sicker and sicker, and then the paper does a follow up saying he's dead? The story even pointed out our doctor doesn't know what it is." Denver got a phone call and Amber left his cubicle. Before she could get far she heard him shout "Ambercomeback!"
She returned and found him talking excitedly, writing something. "Yes. Yes. That's right. Yes." He paused. "Is that true?" He paused again. "Really? That long? Yes, of course. We'll bring him in right away. Let me double check the address."
When he hung up he stood hurriedly, waving at Amber to follow. "That was someone named David Vidal, a primate specialist from Brazil. He thinks he might know what's wrong with Peludo!"
"What? How? Not just from the article!"
"Yes!" David opened Peludo's room, quickly helping the monkey into his carrier. "I'm taking him there immediately."
"Can . . . I'm coming with!" Amber said. She followed Denver to his car.
"You can navigate," he told her, with the monkey carrier on her lap.
Her directions brought them out of town to a clinic in a flat building near a park full of people walking dogs. A tall man dark-skinned man met them in the lobby and introduced himself as Dr. Vidal.
"And this must be Peludo," he said with a touch of accent after introductions, bending down to look in the carrier. "Let's take a look at him, shall we?"
"Well, I can't tell you anything for certain now, but it could be Chagas," Vidal told them. "We'd need to do a scan to make sure."
"Chagas?" Denver asked.
"Likely he contracted it before being taken to the zoo. It can lie dormant for years. If caught in the acute phase the parasites can be killed, but by now there's nothing much can be done." Vidal sighed, and looked down at Peludo. The monkey had been given a dose of sleeping drug. "I have more bad news. Sometimes Chagas isn't terminal, but I'm afraid this isn't one of those times."
Amber and Denver stared as he went on. "Chagas can damage many places on the body, and Peludo might have cardio damage. The article mentioned he didn't eat as much -- those with Chagas can suffer from digestive tract problems as well as throat damage."
Denver shook off Amber's hand from his shoulder. He took a moment to himself to breathe. "You're saying he's dying?"
A nurse stepped into the room, and Dr. Vidal put his hands out. "Until the scan comes back, I will tell you don't worry yet. Worrying can wait until there's something to worry about." The nurse wheeled a cart to the table, and Vidal gingerly placed Peludo, spread-eagle, on it. The nurse pushed it away. "We'll get right on it."
A moment later Amber and Denver sat on a bench under the building's overhang, listening to the rain on the parking lot.
Amber tried to find the right thing to say, but Denver beat her to it. "Well, Buzzfeed certainly won't use this story."
Amber looked at him, surprised. "How do you know? And . . . how can you be joking at a time like that?"
"Buzzfeed wouldn't run a cute animal story with the animal dying at the end. And I can joke because that's how I am when I'm sad."
"But you always joke," Amber said. Denver remained looking down at his feet.
"I wanted a friend," he said. "Someone that would always be happy to see me."
"I'm your friend," Amber said. "Everybody at work is your friend."
"Work friends. It's not the same. The friendship is tainted by the work we have to do. I know you didn't like him very much but Peludo was something special to me."
"I know he was something special to you. Look at all the extra work you put in. You made the place an indoor pygmy marmoset sanctuary. And I didn't dislike him . . . I did at first, I guess, but I liked him too. He helped make the work easier. I'm gonna miss him."
"Dr. Vidal says not to worry yet," Denver said. "Because he isn't certain."
"Right. And we aren't certain our stupid, broken copier won't be there when we get back to the office, and how we aren't certain this isn't just a dream one of us is having, and how we aren't certain Buzzfeed will still be around tomorrow."
"Right. Any, preferably all, of those things could happen."
"Exactly. But they won't. Just like how we know Peludo is sick, and will die."
They sat together in the rain, feeling the air press on them. Denver tried to keep his tears back, and, for the most part, succeeded.
"We should have taken the opportunity to dress him up in a little suit," Amber said. "I bet we could have cobbled one together with scraps."
A minute later they were laughing. "And we could have taken a picture of him typing on a keyboard!" Denver said, smile breaking through the clouds on his face. "But he has to use his whole hand for each key!"
"Or giving a presentation with all the shareholders looking on!" Amber said, and her tears came at last, washing over her smile.
They sat until Dr. Vidal came to them with results, and they continued to laugh and cry.
When he straightened, he found Amber Jojneia standing a foot away with her arms crossed. "It's not copying," he told her.
"I gathered," the woman said. "Is it on copy?"
"Of course it's on copy, Amber. What do you think I am, some sort of office monkey? The kind that looks adorable in a suit and tie, and might manage to staple something by accident as he flails around, but isn't really useful in the long run? Do you think that?" Denver leaned forward. "It's giving me an error." He jabbed a finger a the copier's screen. It read "eX000000A6."
"It's a paper jam," Amber told him, pulling open the side of the copier, revealing sheets of paper wrapped around the guts of the machine. As the wheels and other machinery tried to grind forward with nowhere to go, Amber reached a hand in and began pulling scraps out. "Feel free to help."
"It looks like you have everything under control," said Denver, straightening his tie. Rain pattered on the window to the copy room from heavy clouds. Denver imagined if he went to roof of the skyscraper they worked in he could reach up and touch their lowest level. He listened to Amber tear paper out of the copier with growing volume. Tendons stood out on her hands, and he eventually heard her grumbling. "Who pooped in your Funyuns?"
"I accidentally clicked on a Buzzfeed link a little bit ago," she said, standing upright. Her mouth was twisted, trembling. "It made me believe I would never feel joy again."
"Okay, okay," Denver said quietly. He put his arms around her shoulders. "Everything will be okay. It wasn't 'literally the best thing you'll see all day'?"
Amber pulled out of the hug. "If watching a poodle bark at a doberman is literally the best thing I see all day, I want you to shoot me in the face. It's like the end of 1984. The future is just the word 'LOL' stamping on a human face -- forever."
"Make sure to erase it from your browser's history." Denver glanced at the shreds of paper scattered around the floor. "Thanks for helping with this. I thought I was going mad. Now I can finally copy . . ." He looked at the title of the document he held. "Notes from the last shareholder's meeting."
"How did it go?"
Denver thought back. He imagined the three men in the meeting violently accusing each other of trying to ruin the business. Punches were thrown, feelings were hurt, and Denver had to copy down every word spoken. "Not the best. Mr. Eric said something about Mr. Scarborough I'm not sure should ever be written on a transcript." Denver sighed and put the sheet on the copier's glass surface, and a light began gliding under it. "Looks like neither of us are having the day we wanted." He glanced at Amber and found her glaring at an empty corner. "Hey. Snap out of it."
"I need a break," Amber said. "I know it's raining, but do you want to go down to the park?"
"What? Why?"
"I just want to have something to look at that isn't a spreadsheet or email."
"Well . . ." Denver checked the window again. The rain seemed to be getting lighter. "I could use a walk. We should go see the monkeys. At least now the -- no!" He picked up the copies as they shot out of the machine. "This is the last straw! This destructive machine has ruined my day too many times! Look!" He turned the papers toward Amber, and she found the copier had badly smeared the ink. "Let's get out of here."
As they left the copy room, Denver poked his head back in. "Don't get too comfortable, copier. You've won the battle, but I have the capacity to purchase and handle sledgehammers. This isn't over."
"Denver!"
"Coming!"
"We're being worked too hard," Amber said as she and Denver, now dressed in coats and hats, walked a few blocks to the public zoo. Rain pattered the street, and them, in light bursts. "You and I together are doing the work of five people. There's only, what, thirty of us in the entire company, and Mr. Morris expects us to work like fifty. I'm getting burned out."
"Look, the monkey cages," Denver said.
"Are you listening?"
"Yes Amber I am, but . . . the monkey cages." A loud hoot greeted them. "That's Peludo! He's my boy. You know, my monkey boy. He knows me on sight." Denver walked forward, breaking into a smile when a cage came into view. Amber joined him and found him sneaking a cherry to a tiny greyish-gold monkey with a flat face.
"It's adorable! What kind is it?"
"Peludo here is a pygmy marmoset, native to the Amazon rainforest. It's the smallest true monkey and one of the smallest primates, reaching only six inches long! And he loves cherries, doesn't he, yes he does! Yes he does!" Denver snuck another cherry to the tiny monkey, who began gobbling it. "Cherries are a sometimes food. The subsist mostly on sap and bugs. They live in groups of two to nine, with at least one of each gender, and . . . say, where are all the others?"
A man dressed as a zoo official appeared next to him. "Peludo hasn't been playing nice with the others; we had to separate him. His species are very territorial, and he seems to think he's part of a one-man troop."
"Thanks, mister," Denver said, rolling his eyes. "Can you believe this guy? It's like he's the monkey expert or something."
"Denver, he works here. I think he is the monkey expert," Amber said.
Denver wheeled on the man. "Name's Denver Wilson, amateur monkey expert."
"Chris Grace . . . actual monkey expert." They shook hands. "I've seen you around her a bunch. Want to buy a monkey?"
Amber and Denver glared at the man with differing expressions. Amber's was surprised and distrusting, while Denver's was surprised and elated. He looked at her with his mouth hanging open and the corners of his lips lifted into his cheeks.
"No."
"Amber, be reasonable."
"No!"
"I've always wanted a monkey!"
"Denver!"
"My house has plenty of space for a little guy like this!" Denver twiddled his finger within the tight chain links of the fence separating Peludo from them. The monkey put tiny fingers around his. "See? He already knows how to shake hands."
"You're going to want more space than a house has," Chris said. "These little guys tend to like roaming. Their main diet is-"
"Tree sap, I know. They bite it and suck it out, but also leave some for bugs and eat the bugs. He would be great with pest control! Amber!"
"Denver, he already said you need more space than your house has! You'd need, like, the office at work!" As soon as she said it, she emitted a long sigh and slumped her shoulders. Denver's smile had, impossibly, gotten larger. "That is such a bad idea."
"I could make the unused storage closet into a habitat, and get some bark with the sap still in it. They sell that, right?" Denver looked at Chris, who shrugged. "Right. He could wear a little diaper -- or I could potty train him!"
"A spectacularly bad idea."
"It's like he could be the company's mascot! Something to raise the spirits! Everyone likes monkeys!"
"No, not everyone likes monkeys. They're dangerous and carry disease, and I'm sure a number of groups would accuse you of animal cruelty if you kept it cooped up in the office."
"I'd take it for walks."
"Denver!"
"I wouldn't wait," Chris said. "We've had a few prospective buyers already. A couple of zoos, a few . . . private collectors."
"Amber, I have to act fast!"
"This man clearly wearing a stolen zookeeper outfit is trying to trick you into paying him for a dangerous animal that likely isn't even his. Denver, this is going to be the dumbest thing you'll ever do."
"Clearly you never heard about when I was the Tin Man in my college's production of the Wizard of Oz. They had to throw the suit away."
Denver took advantage of Amber's shocked silence to bring Chris in with an arm. "Let's further discuss the details of the transaction at a later time. I'll speak with my people, you speak with your people, and in the meantime I'll make sure you actually have people. Sound fair?"
"Fair enough," Chris replied.
"Are you really going to try and have a monkey live at the office without anyone finding out about it?" Amber asked, aghast, furious, and wet from the still-falling rain.
"Nope!" Denver said happily, speeding up.
Denver emerged from the conference room, full of dignity and with a blank expression on his face. He shut the door behind him and looked at Amber, who leaned on the wall outside. Without a word, he pumped his fist, holding it in front of his torso in the international symbol for "yeah baby."
Amber gasped. "No! No!"
"Yes," a voice said from the door behind Denver. "Yes." Mr. Morris, president of the company, a small bald man, materialized next to Denver, who still held the fist pump. "Denver was able to convince us it would be a good way to spread word about the company. He explained the size of the beast, and assured me he would work to make sure it is treated properly, and acts according to the standards of the company."
"He's a monkey!" Amber said.
"That's true," Morris said. "Which means we won't have to pay him anything." He disappeared, and Amber couldn't be sure there wasn't a flash.
Denver finally dropped the fist pump. "Chris checks out. The zoo is actually intending to sell Peludo. And for a very reasonable price!" Amber could only stare in shock. "I bet you've forgotten all about that awful Buzzfeed article now, haven't you?"
She frowned at him. "Denver . . . I don't even know where to begin." She put both hands over her face. "Where is it going to sleep? Could it get hurt? Doesn't it need other monkeys with it?"
Mentally Amber saw a puff of smoke, and then found Mr. Morris standing next to her. "You ask the tough questions, Miss Jojneia. I want you to help Denver make the animal comfortable."
Amber opened her mouth to respond, but the president was already gone. "Thanks, Mile High. Now I have even more work to do!"
"Don't worry about it. I'll handle everything. Now, if you'll excuse me-" Denver swung his coat over a shoulder "-I have to go purchase a monkey."
He left her standing in the hallway, and then reappeared. "Man, seven-year-old me would be so jealous right now. Toodles!"
The next day, monkey-related work began. The first thing Amber had to deal with was people asking her if the company-wide email sent earlier was a joke, and then try and answer their questions when she said it wasn't. After Denver came in, they started to make a list of things they would need. Special food, areas for the monkey to sleep, toys and things to distract it, and, Amber emphatically told Denver she would not be assisting with it, a litter box.
"We may have to have him on diapers for a bit before he gets it. I'm sure it won't take long."
When Denver said this Amber had her face pressed against the table they sat at. She worked hard to keep the tears in. "I wonder if normal kitty litter will work?" Denver asked himself, looking up at the ceiling. "I don't see why not."
"You need to do a lot more study before I feel comfortable letting you take care of an animal. Thank goodness you don't have a child."
"Wouldn't that make you feel better?"
"Only the barest amount," Amber said. "Do research, online and from books. Understand?"
"Amber, I know you think I'm being very flippant about the whole 'owning and caring for a monkey' business, but I can assure you, I am being entirely serious. Ha, monkey business." Denver laid his hand flat on the table. "I fully intend to make Peludo's stay here comfortable and long, something to tell the grandbaby pygmy marmosets when he's old and grayer and sitting in a comfortable armchair, with the youngest on his tiny knee, looking up at him with big baby marmoset eyes."
Amber looked on in surprise as Denver reached into a previously-unseen bag and brought out a dozen thick books. "This one is about the habitat, the western Amazon basin," he said, dropping the first on the table with a loud thump. "This one is all about their diet. I've already tried a few recipes for Arabic gum, and we'll have to see which one the little guy likes the best. This one is all about general care and training and is written by noted marmoset expert Marguerite Vadeboncoeur. I have been staying up until the late hours of the morning reading online. Look at these bags!" He pointed to the purple discolorations under his eyes, which Amber hadn't noticed. "Amber, I am ready and willing to put in the work to do this."
Amber sat gazing at the numerous books in front of her. She looked up at Denver, who stood ready to jump onto the table and imitate a marmoset himself. "I'm sorry Denver, I didn't know how much this meant to you. It looks like you're really putting in the work to make sure this goes well."
"Plus, if I can train him well enough, we might even be able to fight crime together!"
Leaning back in her chair, Amber sighed. "That sounds more like the Denver I'm familiar with."
A week passed, and the funds moved from the company's bank to the zoo's -- Amber continually felt like she lived in a dream as the process wore on.
And so the great pygmy marmoset experiment of 2015 began. Peludo met the staff of the company dressed in a tiny diaper. Peludo, not the staff. His half-foot-long body elicited stunned stares by those unaware of the pygmy marmoset's famous size. Denver led it to an unused store room he had appropriated as the monkey's home base. When Denver opened the door, Amber got her first look. It was as if a rainforest had been crammed inside.
PVC tubing ran from floor to ceiling, and sometimes to the walls, wrapped with rope and carpeting, simulating trees. Soft surfaces covered the walls, and the bottom level had a long trough filled with odor-soaking kitty litter -- Amber forced Denver to choose such. It was cramped for a human, but a tiny monkey like Peludo it would feel much like home. The door had holes cut in the top near the ceiling for the monkey to exit and enter, and Denver had even worked with the electrician to ensure the light in the store room had the proper light and temperature.
From the hole in the door, a huge network of passages were built into the ceiling. Amber and the other workers had seen them appear overnight, grower larger and more elaborate. At the same time Denver had sunken into a dazed and confused state, mumbling about Vitamin D3 supplements, proper temperature, and – worrying Amber to no end – 'scent glands.'
"They mark their territory with scents," Denver said. "I'll just need to be careful about where I clean."
The passages in the ceiling led to all over the small company: nets and tubes around the work space, a long passage leading to a big cage in the lobby, and similar cages, though smaller, in the mail room, copy room, and production facility.
"They love to roam, and will get bored if they see the same thing the whole time. This will give him more stimulation. I wish we could have an outdoor enclosure, but there's no way."
Denver eased Peludo into the store room, shut the door, and went to a nearby computer, where he brought up a camera. "It's in one of the fake monkeys. Marmosets are pretty social, so I rigged up a few robots to simulate friends." As Denver spoke, on the screen Peludo look around the space, picked at the hem of his diaper, took a leap to a plastic tree, scratched himself, and then jumped again to land next to the camera. He opened his mouth to show small, flat teeth, then looked away and jumped to one of the shelves in the shade of the heat lamp. A tail flicked out and then back in. "I'll need to figure out some conjugal visits to keep him relaxed. Trust me, you don't want a horny pygmy marmoset on your hands. I'm in with a few chat groups and have a few leads on eligible females already, but they'll have to be vetted. Only the best for my little guy."
The crowd dispersed, muttering about the change. "Training will be a difficult process," Denver said as Amber followed him to his cubicle. "Teaching him to poop in the box, for one. Teaching him to only mark his scent in the store room would make things easier but I don't know how possible it is. Cleansing everything but the store room may help him feel most comfortable there. Luckily, even just with the store room he has a huge amount of space. Most people say about a hundred square feet for one, and there's almost two hundred in there easy."
"Denver . . . " Amber sighed. "Are you sure he's going to be happy here? He's a wild animal."
Denver didn't respond. He brought up a stream of the webcam, which now showed the monkey jumping from one shelf to another over and over. "He seems to like it." They watched the screen for a few seconds. "I know it's going to be hard work, and I know he may not love it, but I'm going to try very hard to make him comfortable."
"Well. All right." Amber stepped out of the cubicle. "Good luck."
Denver nodded to himself as he watched the screen. Peludo investigated one of the Arabic gum samples Denver had set out, scraping it with his teeth.
Early the next morning Denver opened the door to Peludo's room and found the monkey dozing on the second-highest level of shelving. Denver roused him and changed his diaper, and emphatically demonstrated to the monkey the use and function of the litter box set on the floor by dropping the small pellets into it as Peludo watched. He gave him a drop of D3 solution with half a grape, which the monkey happily gobbled, and then Denver presented a small platter of foods: canned marmoset diet, fresh fruit and vegetables, tiny pieces of egg and yogurt, mealworms, and crickets. The monkey ate a variety of the food, which Denver carefully recorded.
Once breakfast was done, man and monkey toured the company's small building. Denver held Peludo carefully with a glove and showed off the lobby, mail room, kitchen and dining room, and everywhere else he had the notion to, including the bathrooms, which served only to freak the small monkey out. Denver mentally concluded the amazon's noted lack of mirrors.
Returning Peludo to his home, he watched the monkey bask for a minute in the light of the heat lamps, then take to the enclosed network hung on the ceiling. He explored relentlessly, going back and forth from the established zones Denver had laid out. Finding the fresh air from the lobby comfortable for the moment, he hung out in the large cage connected there, chattering with the dismayed receptionist -- Denver told her to find him if anything seemed awry. The receptionist looked at him with a frenzied look, but quickly found herself adapting to the monkey's presence, since it would emit a short call ever time someone would enter.
After a little while spent there, Peludo found his way to the mail room, with its many interesting smells, and decided to mark his territory. This lead to a flurry of angry emails from the mail staff to Denver, and his quick cleansing of the area.
When Amber arrived, she saw the monkey going from the mail room to its home room. She went to Denver.
"How's it been?" She asked.
"Marmoset urine stinks."
"Okay." She made to leave, but he stopped her.
"It's going fine. He's very cheerful. He enjoyed the lobby. I'm thinking about getting him neutered, since that makes his scent glands and urine smell way better. Plus, he won't get randy. But then I think about it and I'm like, would I want someone to neuter me?"
Amber thought about it. "It would make weekends easier."
"Anyway, he seems to be adapting pretty well." Just then the monkey climbed over them, chirped something at Amber, and wandered toward the copy room. "He's very friendly with humans; I wonder why he was being so testy with the other marmosets?"
"Maybe he's the monkey version of a cat lady," Amber said. "Doesn't get along with its own species but is fine with others."
"You're saying he's a crazy human monkey?"
"Something like that."
"It's possible. Did you do what I asked?"
"Of course I did," Amber said. "Simple, colorful toys are probably going to be best. He won't need a whole lot I think, he just came from a zoo enclosure. If we get a bunch of different things and rotate them out irregularly it will keep him from getting bored, which I hear is a common problem."
"It is. I'm going to give him different food each day for the same reason."
They heard a noise, and looked at the ceiling, where Peludo reached out a tiny hand for something. One of the people walking under him shook hands with the monkey using his pinky. Peludo chirped something and headed for his home room. "See? Everything's working fine. There are no problems whatsoever."
Four hours later, at about noon, a low, long, piercing call came out of the monkey's home room, surprising everyone. Denver rose swiftly and opened the door. Peludo perched on one of the pipe trees and, seeing him, chirped happily, jumping to his shoulder.
"Was that you?" Denver asked. Instead of answering, Peludo leapt down to the litter box and stood motionless in it momentarily. Denver seized him and quickly took off the diaper. "There's progress, at least. We'll have to work on that."
Wrapped up once more, the monkey moved to the top shelf and laid out in the light of the heat lamp, tail flicking casually. Denver shrugged and closed the door. Amber stood outside with her head tilted. He shrugged. "You heard it too? No idea," he said when Amber nodded. "I guess it was just some noise. It wasn't in any of the books I read. He could have just needed to poop."
Amber frowned and opened her mouth to talk, then closed it and walked away. An hour later, in the copy room, she watched the light from the scanner slide under her document and was snapped out of her thoughts by a chirp behind her. She turned, flustered, and found Peludo in his cage, pressing his face against the small bars of his enclosure. She breathed out. "Sup."
The monkey jumped from end to end of the cage, chirping happily. "At least someone is enjoying themselves today," Amber said, glancing out the window at the rain. "I suppose it's possible to have fun everywhere if you're five inches long." She frowned at herself, and then bent down and put her face near the cage. Peludo stuck a hand out quickly and brushed her nose, and she jerked back.
"All right monkey, let's get a few things straight." She put her hands on her hips. Peludo watched her, his head tilting back and forth. "I'm not a fan of your presence here. I'm busy enough without having to take care of your tiny ass. Make sure I don't catch you peeing on something I need or anything like that, or you'll be out of here so fast you'll wish you had evolved into something that can fly." She put her face near the cage again, but not close enough for Peludo to scratch her nose again. "Ha. Look who's been outsmarted."
"Amber." She stood up quickly and found Denver watching her from the doorway, holding a cup of coffee. "Are you teasing the monkey?"
"He started it!" Amber rocked back, smelling something foul. "Oh my . . . is that the scent glands?!" She gagged, feeling like a garbage man had thrust his fist down her throat. "I'm going to throw up!"
"Damn it Peludo!" Denver set his cup down outside the room and ran away, returning quickly with cleaning supplies. "He's doing this a lot. It's just cause he's in a new environment, eventually he'll stop!" Tortured cries came from outside the room. "Don't worry, don't worry, I'll clean it up!" He popped on a cloth mask over his face and misted the marmoset with a spray. "Bad Peludo! No!" Peludo screeched and dashed up his tube to the system on the ceiling, making tracks toward his home room.
"He'll grow out of it, I swear!" Denver repeated. "He's just . . . It's unfamiliar territory!"
Amber excused herself from the room at a hurry, finding solace in the fresher air on the street. She took some time to herself, trying not to think too hard about the smell she had just been subjected to. When she went back inside, Peludo was sucking on a piece of wood. He glared at her with what she assumed was tiny, furious monkey hate, and she responded in kind. The receptionist, an old woman, greeted her with her normal cheer. Amber responded with a grunt.
In the next few weeks, Peludo determined a schedule for himself. During the night he would clamber around, screeching to his heart's content, scratching himself and using all of the energy packed within his three-and-a-half ounce body to free himself from the network of paths in the ceiling, but he was ever unable.
He spent the rest of the night jumping in the simulated night of his home room and gnawing on the Arabic gum-infused wood, just a few small LED lights providing illumination. During the early morning he napped until the heat lamp flickered on, at which he would wait for Denver to appear with a choice selection of food.
After breakfast he went to the lobby to greet the workers, except during the weekend, when he would rest and relax and save his energy for the work week. Denver would still show up, ready to handle and feed him, and work on the house training. Peludo knew dropping squats in the sand got him a tasty grape, so there was no reason not to. It made the human happy. During the week he would chirp a greeting to each of the humans as they entered the building, cataloging their smells. Every time someone new entered -- such as a delivery man or customer -- he would look on in excitement, willing them to come closer and hang with him in the cage.
After a few hours he would make the rounds from the copy room to the mail room and the production facility, full of interesting smells, sounds, and sights. Afterward it was time to go back to the home room for a bit of jumping and wood gnawing. After lunch was free time, used mostly for lying in the heat lamps. Denver or Amber would sometimes come and pick him up, to take him around the office, holding carefully -- and in Amber's case very carefully, as well as at arm's length -- to give him more variety. Peludo enjoyed this since it gave him a chance to spend time with those entering and leaving. Many wanted nothing to do with him, but a few held him carefully in their him-sized hands.
Once back in his room, it was nap time, or play time with the numerous colorful items provided to him. After a few more hours Denver would appear again with food, refilling water or gum and checking the sand. At this time Peludo would down some food, head to the lobby to say goodnight to everyone, and then return to the room for a leisurely dinner in the heat lamp's dying light. Then it was back to screeching, climbing, and sleeping.
Then, one day, the pain in his chest came back.
Denver watched the monkey's screen with furrowed brows. Instead of leaping around like he normally was this early, Peludo sat in the shade of one of the shelves, tail hanging motionless. Denver opened the door, shutting out the traditional foul smell from the scent glands and litter box -- and found the air clean. Cleaner, at least, but still worrying. There was nothing foreign in the litter box, and when picked up Peludo gave no morning greeting.
"Hey little guy. What's going on?" Denver asked, turning the monkey around, looking for injuries. He offered the monkey food, but Peludo had no appetite. "That's not good." Denver bit his lip and set Peludo down on one of the soft shelf sections, then went to find a phone, contacting the veterinarian the zoo had referred him to. After speaking briefly, Denver packed the ailing monkey in a carrier and got into his car, heading to the outskirts of the city.
Amber and her coworkers all looked around confused when they entered the building, expecting a friendly chirp from the marmoset. Instead, they found an empty cage, an empty room, and Denver's vacant cubicle. Amber sent him a text message but received nothing in response. The office buzzed; everyone was worried.
Four hours after he left, Denver returned with the monkey. Peludo was still quiet and morose. Denver was jumped by the entire staff the moment he appeared, and begged for peace until Peludo was back in his room.
"I met with a doctor Yarmintz," Denver began. "He's one of the doctors the zoo has agreements with. He checked Peludo over but didn't find anything wrong with him. I told him Peludo was usually very active, and that he hadn't pooped all night. Of course, while we were there, Peludo finally squeezed one out right on his table. Yarmintz was glad of it for some reason, and said he would check it out right away. He told me to track his progress while he did the tests." Denver looked down. "That's all."
Their coworkers told him it would be all right, and then wandered away to their own desks, leaving Amber and Denver. "What do you think it could be?"
Denver shrugged. "They can catch any disease humans can. It could be a chest cold, or it could be malaria. He is a monkey, after all. He was brought into captivity down in Peru. Who knows what he could have?"
"He's going to be all right Denver."
"Maybe." Denver sat at his desk and started working, trying his hardest to ignore the fact Amber still stood near him. She sighed and walked out.
And, to her great surprise, found work too quiet. She was used to the occasional chirp, louder call, or barely-noticeable rustle of the monkey moving through the path over her head. She scowled at herself, surprised at the admission. She tried to ignore the quiet, but it was always there. She clenched her teeth and worked through it, trying not to realize she worried for Denver and the monkey.
In the copy room, she choose to stare out the window at the constant, unending rain rather than look at the small cage in the corner. Peludo had taken to keeping her company when she was in the copy room, and she felt his absence even stronger there. Rain struck the window, trying to fill the void, but there was no replacing an active monkey.
The receptionist appeared in the doorway, bringing her out of her thoughts. "Amber dear, there's someone at the front for you and Denver." Amber frowned and asked who it was. "Says he's from the paper."
Amber asked her to fetch Denver, and then went to the lobby, where a young man in a sports coat stood to shake her hand.
"You must be Miss Jojneia."
"Yes, but it's pronounced 'yoy-neah.' You are?"
"Hector Thompson from the Seattle Heritage. We heard about the newest addition to your little company and thought it would be a great piece for the next issue." Hector looked sideways at the empty cage in the lobby. "Is the monkey available?"
Amber stood still, trying to get her mouth closed, when Denver showed up behind her. "And this is Mr. Wilson? Hector Thompson, Seattle Heritage. We're here about your monkey."
Denver's eyes shot wide open, taking in the reporter. "Of course! Why don't you follow me to a meeting room?" He went close to Amber and hissed: "did you know about this?"
"No!" Amber whispered back. "I certainly would have rescheduled if I did!"
They entered a small room with a table and three chairs, and Hector began taking out items from his bag. A camera, pad of paper, and a recorder. "I'm just going to be using this for notes. You're all right with going on record?"
Amber nodded; Denver's head more of flopped forward onto his chest and then snapped back up. "Excellent." Hector wrote down a few things. "Now your monkey is a . . .?"
"He's a pygmy marmoset. The smallest monkey in the world, though not the smallest primate -- that would be the mouse lemur. Peludo is about five inches long a little under a hundred grams, or about point two pounds," Denver said, a smile etched between his lips. "He's eleven years old."
"Is that old for a monkey?"
"Wild pygmy marmosets don't live far beyond that, but those in captivity can last up to . . . twenty years."
Hector nodded. "And he's been with you for how long? When did you get him? Was the process difficult? It must have been interesting getting an office building, even a small one like this, so a monkey can live inside."
Amber watched Denver's face worriedly. "It was a lot of work. I was the one with the idea so I was made . . . project manager, let's say. I spent a week reading everything I could get my hands on, talking with experts at zoos, making sure I was doing everything I could to make Peludo comfortable and safe."
The interview continued, and an outside observer would have had no idea Denver hurt. Amber could see it, though, and was waiting for the dam to break. It happened, at last, when the reporter asked to see the monkey's home room, which Denver had described in great detail, and take pictures.
"I'm afraid . . ." Denver's lips pressed together. "This morning Peludo exhibited symptoms of an illness. We aren't sure what it is, but he isn't himself right now. I don't believe he's contagious through normal means, but . . ."
"Just one picture would suit my needs," Hector said. "I'm willing to come back later, but my editor would like the piece quickly."
"I . . . I suppose it would be all right for one picture. Amber, why don't you take him to the room?"
Amber and Hector left the meeting room and went to Peludo's home room as Denver went for something else, coming back with the cloth masks he used when he cleaned the monkey's cages. "Just as a precaution." He put on the gloves he used to handle Peludo, and opened the door. Hector whistled.
"Looks comfy, especially for such a little guy!" He searched for Peludo, finding him when the monkey chirped. "He doesn't look sick."
"He's usually bouncing around and being very vocal. Much more vocal than this," Denver said, entering. He took Peludo from a shelf and held him carefully. The monkey's tiny hands wrapped around his fingers, pressing his face close to the material of the glove.
"Isn't that just adorable." Hector brought the camera close to Denver's hands and focused. "Smile, little guy." He took a few quick shots, and Denver replaced Peludo. "If possible I'd just like to take a few pictures of the room?"
"Okay," Denver said, glancing at Amber, who stood behind Hector. She shrugged.
Hector took the pictures, and then asked if Denver could reposition Peludo onto one of the plastic trees in the middle of the room. Denver sighed and carefully moved the ailing monkey to the center tree. Peludo didn't seem to mind, and clung to the padded area, staring at the newcomer. Hector took more pictures. "Can we-"
"I'm sorry, Peludo needs to rest, and Denver and I have plenty of work to do still today," Amber said, taking the reporter's shoulders and leading him away from the monkey's room. "I really hope that's enough for you to write the story, because you'll have to leave now. So sorry, you know how it is, busy professionals and that sort of thing."
"Just one quick question? What is it your company produces?" Hector stuck the recorder under Amber's mouth; her eyes swiveled down at it.
"We aid in the production and development of a much larger company called Protecht. They make self-defense equipment," Amber said, eyes narrowing to dark slits. "Would you like a demonstration?"
"No, I think I have all I need," Hector said. "Thanks to both of you for the chance to do this. I have both of your emails if I have any follow-up questions." Hector spun on a heel and disappeared outdoors into the rain.
"How did he get our emails?" Denver asked.
"I don't know. Some evil reporter trick. How's Peludo?"
"The same." Denver sighed and rubbed his head. "He didn't like being disturbed, but his condition hasn't changed at all. I need to get back to work. Nice thinking on that self-defense line, by the way."
"I don't think he understood the implication," Amber said. "And now, I think, he actually believes we make self-defense products instead of-"
"Miss Jojneia, Mr. Wilson, was that the reporter from the Heritage?" Mr. Morris said, standing between them. Amber and Denver looked at each other over his bald dome, confused. "I hope you told him everything you could. We have a chance for some easy publicity if word gets around that we have a cute little animal crawling around. A feel-good piece like this is bound to get some traction on the internet."
The small man disappeared once more, leaving Amber and Denver in the lobby. Denver was looking around for the president's escape route, but Amber stared into space with her mouth hanging open. When Denver noticed, he waved his hand in front of her face, getting no response. "Amber? You all right?"
Amber sucked in a breath as the color drained out of her face. "This Company's Exotic Pet is Literally the Cutest Thing You Will See All Day," she intoned, and Denver seemed to hear the capitalization, realizing she spoke the words as a title to something.
"Come again?"
"We just got interviewed for something that could turn into a Buzzfeed article."
"Hey, come on," Denver said. "Don't think like that right now Amber!" One of us has to be strong right now!"
"The Heritage is going to write it, and it's going to be well thought-out, and informative, and flattering, and in-depth, and then Buzzfeed is going to get its grubby mitts on it and turn it into a page with a bunch of pictures and a single sentence attached to each one!" She closed her eyes. "Garbage-people will put it on Facebook, and other garbage-people will like it!"
"I don't want our sick monkey to go on Buzzfeed!" Denver said, trying to keep the tears back. "It's like the internet's appendix! It doesn't do anything, and most people have it removed!"
The receptionist, whose name was Pam, and who had just gotten back from the bathroom after her husband's ill-advised attempt to make spaghetti squash the night before, found two grown adults hanging on to each other and weeping. She first thought the worst, but then realized Peludo, who had apparently gotten enough strength back to go to the lobby for a change of scenery, was staring at Amber and Denver with the same confused look.
"Is anything the matter dears?" Pam asked. Amber and Denver detached quickly, smoothing their clothing.
"Ah, it's . . . complicated," Denver said.
"Personal," Amber said at the same time.
Pam just nodded and sat at her desk. Best not to get involved, she knew.
Over the next few days, Peludo seemed to recover slightly, though he never fully regained the unstoppable exuberance he had exhibited when first brought to the company. He at least found the strength to eat properly, and make his daily rounds around the company, greeting each worker as he or she entered the building, and spending time with Amber in the copy room.
Every once in a while, perhaps once a day, Denver would hear the longer, lower sound Peludo had emitted, though it seemed to have no bearing on time or activity.
Five days after taking him in to see the doctor, Denver got a call from Yarmintz, who said yes, Peludo is certainly sick. However, no, he didn't know what it was. Yarmintz instructed Denver to carefully track the monkey -- how often he pooped, how much he ate, periods of low activity -- anything unnatural. Denver knew it was up to him to watch over the monkey. He arrived even earlier, and carefully made notes of everything he could.
Peludo's condition had a slow rise and fall. For a few days he would be fine, bouncing around his area happily, greeting each person as they entered, napping in the light of the heat lamp, and eating well. Then, for a few days, he would begin to show less energy and a smaller appetite before sinking into the quiet and sickly way Denver had first found him.
Amber found herself waiting, impatiently, for the Seattle Heritage's story to be published. She could not pinpoint the story's importance to her, other than her presence within it. She wondered if it was just a way to keep her mind off of Peludo's sickness. As the days went by she realized it didn't seem to be working, and her worry for the monkey grew. She seemed to have forgotten her dislike of the monkey, and now spent her time in the quiet copy room, dealing with the uncooperative machine within, worried. Once, during yet another rainy day, the copier chirped at her, and she spun, thinking Peludo was in his cage watching her. Her expression didn't change when she saw it was still empty, but she raged against sadness inside.
One day, two weeks after being interviewed, Amber was fed up, and found Hector's number, calling him. She spoke sweetly, asking him when he thought the story would go up.
"Well, to be honest, it's been put on the back burner for now," Hector said. "It's a little too dry."
Amber sat with the phone in her hand, frowning. "It's a great piece I think," Hector continued over her silence, "but it doesn't have that grip, you know?"
"He's sick," Amber said, without thinking. "The monkey is sick. We don't know what it is. We-"
Two forces within Amber, one telling her it isn't worth it to lie, and the other valiantly saying it would make for a more interesting story, fought briefly. "We think he might be dying."
"Really? My goodness!" She heard Hector scrambling on the other end. "That's a much better story! Let me talk to my editor!"
Amber sat in her own guilt, and the contracted slime of a reporter using a creature's suffering to sell a story, waiting for Hector to return. After about five minutes she heard noises again. "Are you free today?"
"No," Amber said. "I'm too busy. Tomorrow is better."
"Tomorrow it is," Hector said. "Say, ten?"
After the call, Amber dragged herself to Denver's cubicle. "How's he doing today?"
"Not good," Denver said, bringing up the camera for Peludo's room. The monkey sat on one of the plastic trees in the light, tail curling and uncurling slowly. "It seems like he's getting worse. He's usually starting to do better by now."
"Uh . . . that reporter is coming again tomorrow."
"What? Why?"
"I . . . I told him that Peludo was getting sicker, and he thought it would make a better story." Amber watched Denver's face turn stony. "Look . . . maybe it will help!"
"How, exactly, could that possibly help?!"
"I don't know . . . maybe Peludo's just lonely, and having the reporter around will make him feel better. Didn't you say they're really social creatures?"
"Yeah. But he hangs out with us all the time! Before he got sick, every single person in the company said hello to him every morning!"
"Well, I don't know. Anyway, Hector's coming at ten tomorrow."
"Fine."
"Fine."
Amber stalked out, now feeling angry, guilty, sad, and tired, just as a bow on top of the wonderful cake.
"Why don't you start with what the monkey has?" Hector asked as they sat in the same room as before. He had his notepad, camera, and recorder out as usual.
Denver frowned at Amber. "We don't know what he has. Our doctor isn't able to figure it out."
"What are the symptoms?"
Denver sighed. "He rarely eats, and when he does it looks like he can't swallow very well. He doesn't have a lot of energy a lot of days, and . . . it sort of looks like he's in pain. In his chest."
Hector nodded, rapidly writing. "Anything else? Coughing, sneezing, anything cute like that?"
"No, not anything . . . cute." Denver blinked a few times. "I can't really be sure of anything else, other than he's just sluggish and slow at times."
"Hmm, okay. Can you say anything about how he acted before?"
Denver went on, struggling, trying not to get too angry at the man profiting from Peludo. The reporter dove into Peludo's day-to-day, and how the disease changed it, and again requested pictures. "To play up the illness angle. We just need to make him look sad, that's all."
"Right. That's all," Denver repeated. Again, Amber took Hector to the room while Denver got gloves and masks. "Okay, here we go," Denver said to himself as he opened the door.
Peludo peered out from a padded area like a bed he had taken to sleeping in. Denver held out a hand and Peludo slowly climbed in, gazing up at him.
"Wow, you're right. He seems even worse than before," Hector said. "Okay, a couple of close shots should do it." Snapping a few pictures of Peludo clinging to a few of Denver's fingers, he then looked around. "Any way he could be eating something? A little bit of fruit or something?"
Amber took a small piece of apple from a bowl and handed it to Peludo, who did little more than put his mouth over the apple, big eyes staring at Hector as the camera snapped. "That's good, that's real good. It's tugging at the heartstrings."
Denver looked down at Peludo, wrapped in his hands, with a bit of apple shoved into his mouth but not chewing, tiny fingers gripping Denver's bigger ones weakly. The monkey's head swiveled to catch Denver's eye. He took the bit of apple out of his mouth and held it out to Denver. Hector took a picture.
"That's it. That's the picture." He beamed. "My editor will want to run this as soon as possible. I wouldn't be surprised if it's up day after tomorrow. Maybe even tomorrow!"
"Thank you," Denver said, in almost a whisper. Amber nearly didn't hear it. He put Peludo back on the tree. "I'll ask you to leave now."
"Sorry?" Hector asked, halted in the process of putting his camera away.
"Go," Denver said, a little bit louder than before. "Go!" He said, louder still. "Just get out!"
"Denver-"
"I don't want to see you ever again," Denver said, trying to bring his volume down. "Get out."
"Let's go, Mr. Thompson," Amber said, fearing an even more destructive outburst. She led the reporter to the front lobby with her hand on his shoulder. "Denver is in a very emotional place right now. Peludo is his friend."
Hector looked at her with a blank expression. "Who's Peludo?"
Amber blinked quickly. She looked down at her feet, drawing in breath. A brief, gory scene -- involving different parts of Hector being separated from each other in a violent and irreversible fashion – flashed past her eyes. Her face remained impassive. Denver's furious words echoed in her memory still. "Peludo . . . is the monkey's name, Mr. Thompson. Surely you . . . you wrote that down? I looked it up. It's the Spanish word for hairy. That was something you took the time to record in between clearing a space for the Pulitzer on your desk? Perhaps you remembered that the creature occupying center stage of the story you're coming here for even has a name?" She said all this with a wide, straining smile on her face. "Go, Mr. Thompson, and do not return, because Denver isn't the only one that doesn't ever want to see you again. And, if you happen to find your heart at the bottom of your desk drawer when you're searching for somewhere to put all your other accolades . . . you will remember . . . that the monkey has a name."
Amber watched the reporter exit the building hurriedly, feeling no shortage of forcefulness flowing from her to him. Once he was out of sight Amber's shoulders slumped and she let out the air remaining in her lungs.
"Don't worry dear," Pam said behind her, startling her. "I won't let him back in the building."
"Thank you Pam," Amber said, before dragging her feet to Denver's cubicle. "I'm sorry, Denver," she said. "I thought it would be able to help us." Denver said nothing. She closed her eyes. "I'm really sorry."
"Is he gone?"
"Yeah. I told him to stay away. In no uncertain terms."
Denver stared at the screen. Amber couldn't see it, but she assumed he watched the feed from Peludo's room. "He'll get better, Denver. It's just a little sickness."
"The doctor doesn't know what it is," Denver reminded her. "He's a primate specialist with all the zoos around here. He's a primate specialist and he doesn't know why our monkey is sick."
"There's an explanation."
Denver said nothing for a few seconds, eyes down. He finally looked up at her. "Did you tell off that reporter? In a good way?"
"I insinuated he was a heartless monster."
"What do you think the chances are he'll take it out on us in his story?"
Amber thought about it. "Little. I don't think he has the courage to do it."
Denver frowned. "Why?"
"Because while he's clearing a spot on his mantle for a Pulitzer, I'll be clearing a spot for his balls. They're mine now, and I will display them proudly, and tell my grandchildren about them."
"With the youngest on your knee, as it looks up at you with big eyes?"
"The only way I'd have it."
The story appeared in the Seattle Heritage the next day, on the front page of the local section. The leading picture was of Peludo glancing up at Denver, a tiny bit out of focus, the monkey holding the miniscule piece of apple in one hand and clinging to Denver's finger with the other. It ran next to the text of the article, detailing the system Peludo used to get around, Denver and Amber (although Amber was relegated to a nameless helper), and finally got to the purpose of the article, Peludo's sickness. It recounted the details Denver had given Hector, filtered through a writer's vision.
"There, I got what I wanted," Amber said. "There's a story about us. About you and Denver. About the company."
"'Denver's emotions ran high during the interview,'" Denver read. "'At times, he was barely able to speak, so overcome with emotion for an ailing friend.'" Denver sighed. "Something like that, anyway." He put the paper down on his desk. "So now what? We just sit and wait for Peludo to get sicker and sicker, and then the paper does a follow up saying he's dead? The story even pointed out our doctor doesn't know what it is." Denver got a phone call and Amber left his cubicle. Before she could get far she heard him shout "Ambercomeback!"
She returned and found him talking excitedly, writing something. "Yes. Yes. That's right. Yes." He paused. "Is that true?" He paused again. "Really? That long? Yes, of course. We'll bring him in right away. Let me double check the address."
When he hung up he stood hurriedly, waving at Amber to follow. "That was someone named David Vidal, a primate specialist from Brazil. He thinks he might know what's wrong with Peludo!"
"What? How? Not just from the article!"
"Yes!" David opened Peludo's room, quickly helping the monkey into his carrier. "I'm taking him there immediately."
"Can . . . I'm coming with!" Amber said. She followed Denver to his car.
"You can navigate," he told her, with the monkey carrier on her lap.
Her directions brought them out of town to a clinic in a flat building near a park full of people walking dogs. A tall man dark-skinned man met them in the lobby and introduced himself as Dr. Vidal.
"And this must be Peludo," he said with a touch of accent after introductions, bending down to look in the carrier. "Let's take a look at him, shall we?"
"Well, I can't tell you anything for certain now, but it could be Chagas," Vidal told them. "We'd need to do a scan to make sure."
"Chagas?" Denver asked.
"Likely he contracted it before being taken to the zoo. It can lie dormant for years. If caught in the acute phase the parasites can be killed, but by now there's nothing much can be done." Vidal sighed, and looked down at Peludo. The monkey had been given a dose of sleeping drug. "I have more bad news. Sometimes Chagas isn't terminal, but I'm afraid this isn't one of those times."
Amber and Denver stared as he went on. "Chagas can damage many places on the body, and Peludo might have cardio damage. The article mentioned he didn't eat as much -- those with Chagas can suffer from digestive tract problems as well as throat damage."
Denver shook off Amber's hand from his shoulder. He took a moment to himself to breathe. "You're saying he's dying?"
A nurse stepped into the room, and Dr. Vidal put his hands out. "Until the scan comes back, I will tell you don't worry yet. Worrying can wait until there's something to worry about." The nurse wheeled a cart to the table, and Vidal gingerly placed Peludo, spread-eagle, on it. The nurse pushed it away. "We'll get right on it."
A moment later Amber and Denver sat on a bench under the building's overhang, listening to the rain on the parking lot.
Amber tried to find the right thing to say, but Denver beat her to it. "Well, Buzzfeed certainly won't use this story."
Amber looked at him, surprised. "How do you know? And . . . how can you be joking at a time like that?"
"Buzzfeed wouldn't run a cute animal story with the animal dying at the end. And I can joke because that's how I am when I'm sad."
"But you always joke," Amber said. Denver remained looking down at his feet.
"I wanted a friend," he said. "Someone that would always be happy to see me."
"I'm your friend," Amber said. "Everybody at work is your friend."
"Work friends. It's not the same. The friendship is tainted by the work we have to do. I know you didn't like him very much but Peludo was something special to me."
"I know he was something special to you. Look at all the extra work you put in. You made the place an indoor pygmy marmoset sanctuary. And I didn't dislike him . . . I did at first, I guess, but I liked him too. He helped make the work easier. I'm gonna miss him."
"Dr. Vidal says not to worry yet," Denver said. "Because he isn't certain."
"Right. And we aren't certain our stupid, broken copier won't be there when we get back to the office, and how we aren't certain this isn't just a dream one of us is having, and how we aren't certain Buzzfeed will still be around tomorrow."
"Right. Any, preferably all, of those things could happen."
"Exactly. But they won't. Just like how we know Peludo is sick, and will die."
They sat together in the rain, feeling the air press on them. Denver tried to keep his tears back, and, for the most part, succeeded.
"We should have taken the opportunity to dress him up in a little suit," Amber said. "I bet we could have cobbled one together with scraps."
A minute later they were laughing. "And we could have taken a picture of him typing on a keyboard!" Denver said, smile breaking through the clouds on his face. "But he has to use his whole hand for each key!"
"Or giving a presentation with all the shareholders looking on!" Amber said, and her tears came at last, washing over her smile.
They sat until Dr. Vidal came to them with results, and they continued to laugh and cry.