Genesis Sequence (Across Horizons) by Stan C. Smith

Author:Stan C. Smith [Smith, Stan C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-28T22:00:00+00:00

11

Skeeren

47,675 years ago - Zaragoza Province of Spain - Day 3

Analysis of Neanderthal male named Osroc: Intelligence seems to be comparable to a human male of similar age. Unlike Skyra, he was unable, or unwilling, to solve the verbal logic puzzles I presented to him, an observation supporting my hypothesis that Skyra is exceptional among Neanderthals. Osroc is fond of speaking in metaphors, which does not necessarily indicate advanced reasoning skills but does indicate a surprising level of symbolic thought. I am doubly fortunate to now have two Neanderthals to observe, although both seem determined to end their own lives. If this is a common Neanderthal characteristic, perhaps it should not be surprising the species became extinct in my original timeline. Power level: 60%

“Why are you chewing on Skyra’s boar skin?” Ripple asked Osroc in the local Neanderthal language. Skyra had dried the skin into a rigid cone for carrying her boar meat, but Osroc was now chewing on the leather as if determined to eat tiny bits of flesh from its surface.

Osroc paused. “Chewing softens the skin.”

“Why does it need to be soft?”

“I will use the skin to make footwraps. I would kill you and take your skin if you were not a tortoise.”

“I am not a tortoise.”

“The cave lion hides in the grass to make the reindeer think it is not a cave lion.”

“I am not concealing what I am.”

Osroc went back to chewing and spoke from the side of his mouth. “If you are not a tortoise, what are you?”

“Muffin, what are your thoughts regarding Osroc’s question?” Ripple asked silently.

“I think you should allow him to believe you are a tortoise.”

“Why?”

“He understands what a tortoise is, and that a tortoise is harmless. Therefore, he will be comfortable in your presence.”

“I am not a tortoise,” Ripple said aloud to Osroc. “I am not a creature at all. I am a tool created by bolups. The bolups put me together using small pieces in such a way that I can walk and speak and think.”

The old man stopped chewing and stared at Ripple.

“Muffin, perhaps I should have heeded your advice.”

“You followed your own inclination. Now you must accept the consequences.”

“You belong to bolups?” Osroc asked. He scanned the surrounding cork oak forest.

“I was made by bolups. Now I do not belong to anyone.”

“Bolups raid nandup camps. They kill nandup men and children and take nandup women. Nandups kill bolups.”

“I do not belong to bolups, nor do I intend to harm you or Skyra.”

“Where are your bolups?” Osroc asked, again scanning the surrounding trees.

“Listen to me speak, Osroc. There are no bolups. I came here alone. I am Skyra’s friend, and I want to be your friend also. I was simply playing another word game with you. You are correct—I am just a creature.”

“What kind of creature? Are you a tortoise?”

“Yes, I am a tortoise.”

The man resumed chewing the boar leather. “Your word game does not make sense. Bolups cannot make tortoises.”

“No, they cannot. You win the word game.”

After nineteen

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