read congo by michael crichton
for bob gottlieb
something struck him lightly in the chest. at first he thought it was an insect but, glancing down at his khaki shirt, he saw a spot of red, and a fleshy bit of red fruit rolled down his shirt to the muddy ground. the damned monkeys were throwing berries. he bent over to pick it up. and then he realized that it was not a piece of fruit at all. it was a human eyeball, crushed and slippery in his fingers, pinkish white with a shred of white optic nerve still attached at the back
elliot's publications were modest and temperate; his progress with amy was well documented; he showed no interest in publicity, and was not among those researchers who took their apes on the carson or the griffin show
within ten years, there will be a custody case involving a language-using primate, and the ape will be in the witness-box
the congo was not navigable beyond the first set of rapids, two hundred miles inland (at what was once leopoldville, and is now kinshasa)
amy squatted by the mirror, happily making a mess of her face. she grinned at her smart image, then applied lipstick to her teeth
the rain forests of the world had traditionally frustrated remote-sensing technology
in the developing field of pattern-recognition computer programs, so-called B-8 problems were the most difficult; whole teams of researchers had devoted years to trying to teach computers the difference between "B" and "8" - precisely because the difference was so obvious
"something happens to the man who discovers a new species of animal," wrote lady elizabeth forstmann in 1879..sir antony forstmann died of gambling debts and syphilis in 1880
the apprenticeship of young ben franklin, printer, was not so different from the apprenticeship of young chimpanzee, termite fisher
bent over their equipment, talking quietly and in general behaving as if they had all the time in the world
without photographs, videotapes, sound recordings, or the skeleton of a gray gorilla
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