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.
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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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