Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Graham Hancock and Neanderthals

The following is a short piece of fan fiction in the same vein as Graham Hancock's latest book called Entangled, a fun and interesting account revolving around psychedelics, the unknown history of the Stone Age, and the theory of quantum entanglement.  

by AJ Snook

The hunter, wearing scant but a buffalo skin loin cloth and tooled up with no less than a atlatl, quietly lurked through the thick forest -- somewhere on the planet Earth, somewhere near the equator.  He wouldn't have been able to tell you even as much detail for he was of a cro-magnon clan that hunted these forests nearly 30,000 years ago.  These forests were all he knew.  Deathly encounters with the clans to the south and and the east were too risky to engage in.  If too many braves died in the fighting then there wouldn't be enough food for the clan.  Luckily the other clans seemed to feel the same way because they were scarcely seen.

Even scarcer, though, are the mysterious Uglies.  With their hulking shoulders, chests, and backs, they look as ferocious as any beast that roams among these trees.  Yet they never seem to attack these hunters who assume they're plant-eaters like the deer and the elk and the apes.  But just like a bull elk after the winter's frost has dried, they surely possess an extremely aggressive quality, thought the hunter -- a nature of violence.

What an ironic thought, posited a neanderthal who just happened to be meditating peacefully, after eating a handful of magic mushrooms (his "little teachers"), at the stump of a nearby tree.  He lacked all the aggression and hate that the hunter carried on his back like a heavy stone from the age of the same name in which they both lived in.  He was the yin to cro-magnon's yang.  He was the other stone, resting meaningfully on the opposite tray of the scale, his job to cancel out the ill-fated traits that man's passion toted along with him. He served a necessary purpose.

The hunter, paranoid (another inherent trait of his), felt the nearly invisible neanderthal's eyes on him.  Through the thicket he didn't notice him, and searching out a hidden threat wasn't his bowl of brew.  He would have rather rustled around in another patch of proverbial berries lest he get bit by something unexpected.  As he picked up into a run and made his way swiftly back to his tribe's camp, the hunter caught a glimpse of the barbarian's eyes through the deep impenetrable bushes.  Not snake or wolf-like, he was shocked, and the impulse to turn back and attack never came.  Perhaps it was the tiniest of grins on the corners of the wise bipedal's mouth.  Or maybe there was some inkling of a potential for good in those Uglies after all.


Related: You might also enjoy listening to Mr. Hancock's long interview with philosopher/comedian Duncan Trussell on his fabulous podcast.

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