A Mandrill devours an antelope calf. The prey is eaten alive. Its organs pour onto the dusty ground. The calf's still conscious. There is no benevolent almighty deity hovering over the cameraman that records this scene. There's no supernatural being here, by my side, as I watch the documentary. A lot has been written about the problem of Evil. How can God permit the existence of the truly horrendous? Murder, torture, disease, cruelty... It is humankind's prerogative, a consequence of freedom, the ultimate test for the human experiment. What, then, does the calf's suffering signify? Does the Mandrill ape enjoy freedom? Or should the cameraman have shot the beast? Perhaps our senses deceive us: animals are inanimate projections, immune to pain and emotion. The calf, the primate, are only symbols for the meek and the bestial. If so, Creation is an elaborate hoax that most of us will never understand, an allegory intended for the rabidly intelligent or the deranged...
The child runs along the zebra crossing, his long thin legs like thorny stilts. He passes inches away from the headlights of my car. I wonder: would I be able to run faster than him? I am a large ape, perhaps fifteen stone of flesh and muscle. Nature has given this calf the speed, the dexterity and agility to explore his surroundings solo, away from the protecting arms of his parents. Nonetheless, if I were a hungry predator, this is something that would definitely interest me. I press on, my question will go unanswered, for the time being...
Two parallels of humanity: the insect colony and the solitary predator. A dichotomy of my own life, in fact. Nowadays, I work in a factory, checking for faulty motor parts. A monotonous task of mind-numbing simplicity. I am one in a billion worker ants. On a weekday, the whole world strives united in unceasing labour. Thin arms, antennae, biochemical reactions, sophisticated rhythms and social stratification: a clockwork model of service to the ultimate purpose. The ant colony thrives against the odds of survival. Humanity, moreover, lords over the planet with ever increasing numbers. The termite mound reaches three meters in height. Our cities become nations punctuated by skyscrapers. But, under cover of darkness, this worker ant —yours truly— becomes something entirely different...
Almost every night I go prowling. Often, I merely scout my territory, searching for familiar pointers and new opportunities. Knowing the lay of the land is crucial in this line of business. I know where to find unguarded cash-dispenser machines, where the best nightspots are located, where to lurk in shadows and corners...I can even detect, like a lion stalking the savannah's watering hole, the best trails leading to and from the city's clubs and restaurants.
Once every couple of weeks, if the season has been bountiful, I treat myself to a few little niceties. I like my meat raw and bloody, and I know an Argentinean restaurant where I need not even order, for the staff know my likes. The maitre, a ruddy carnivorous fellow, makes a great show of producing the lump of cadaver for my delectation and approval.... He also lectures me about the particular cut of meat, the species of the cattle, the date of its slaughter and makes further suggestions regarding first courses and appropriate wines. This wisdom is, for me, the pinnacle of human culture.
Afterwards, the stomach bursting, I enjoy another type of gratification. There are two or three habitual whores that I search for. I do not discriminate, whoever of them I see first, will enjoy my patronage. If none can be found, I have no qualms about approaching a new one. I am flexible and easy to please, but, like the maitre at the restaurant, my regulars know exactly how I like it: no fuss, minimum conversation, doggy style with plenty of grunts.
I am a natural born philosopher. I knew the Great Truths before attending University, in which I was misunderstood and ignored for two years, before dropping out.
Reason is a form, a derivation of instinct. Nature did not give us claws and fangs but it provided us with cold clear conceptual thinking. An ape sees the fruit in the branches; we, on the other hand, identify an apple, name the tree, erect a fence around the orchard and trick the monkey into falling in one of our traps.
We organise the world so that it conforms to our stomach.
I do not recognize authority. Nature is Law. At university, one of the students, who everyone called Bindy, accused me of being a fascist. How can I be a fascist if I resent any form of lordship? I do not belong to a political party, nor do I follow creed or feel reverence for a Caudillo. Could a jaguar be deemed a fascist? Only insofar as a queen bee could be termed an enlightened absolutist monarch.
A man is interviewed on TV. His face is covered in tattoos, in order to resemble some kind of lizard. I feel anger and vitriolic amusement. It's all a game to him. Actions speak louder than needle and ink.
Well, then, what of the actions of a predator? The lion, for all of its brute force, does not risk injury by attacking the young and healthy. I would be foolish not to follow suit. The aged, the infirm, the tired and confused, these are my victims. Some time ago, I shadowed an old lady to the cash machine. I followed her all the way home without making my move. Patience is a virtue and custom is an all too human trait. I discovered that the stupid biddy took the same walk every month, at the same hour. It was easy to lie in wait for her, cosh her and take her handbag. I discovered with delight a large amount of money, perhaps a sizeable London rent. Ta very much! I felt no remorse: if not I, some other predator would have eventually taken the booty.
