Genetic research confirms that non-Africans are part Neanderthal

From EurekAlert.

This is true. I am seeing this happen myself. Well, in a way. Not the whole exchange of genetic material part, but close enough. It happens like this:

A bunch of Anatomically Modern Humans moves into our neighborhood from somewheres up north a small while ago. Now, if you ask anyone around the karst, they will tell you that I am a hard hominid to impress, but even I have to admit that the new AMH’s are in a range that includes awesome. They are tall and erect, and their warmskins do not smell at all. Not like Uncle Tok’s. You can tell when he is anywhere within two or maybe even three sprints, just by the smell. But back to these AMH’s — they have this way of putting rocks in a circle so their fire does not escape, and they pile rocks up in front of their caves so the smilodons do not get in, and their spearheads are to die for! They make anything you can think of out of rock, and a few edged objects of indeterminate purpose, as well. They are true rock stars.

Well, naturally, my cousin Ta is smitten. She follows this AMH named Ook around all day. She sighs, and picks flowers, and leaves them where he will step on them while he is hunting. Every now and then he throws a rock at her, and she comes home all starry-eyed because Ook notices her. I do not understand this part myself, because if somebody is throwing rocks at me, you can bet I am throwing them right back, and I do not give one whit how good his warmskins smell.

Aunt Ja says it is just a phase. She says as soon as we meet another proto-hominid-extended-family-group, Ta will realize what an advantage it is to be able to tell where your man is, just based on the wind.

There is also a bunch of Neanders living nearby. We are, after all, a multi-cultural community. One of them is an older girl, who looks pretty good, if you like them chunky. I see her out hunting with her father now and then, and the way they hunt is this. He sneaks up on a mastodon calf and sticks it with his long-stabby-thing. After it falls over, he bowleggs like hell, with the mother mastodon chasing him and standing under his tree and calling him all sorts of evil names in mastodon. While all this is going on his daughter is dragging the calf back to camp. So while he spends the next couple of hours sitting in a tree, she is cutting up the calf and turning it into donburgers, and mastodon-onna-stick, and other ethnic delicacies.

On days when she is not doing womanly food processing chores she goes to sit up on a rock somewhere and blow into this buzzard thighbone and make really strange sounds — long notes, with long spaces and more long, sobbing notes, like ghosts mourning. Aunt Ja calls it music, but I know music and this is not it. Music is when you bang the rocks together.

Well, it seems this Neandergirl has a crush on Ook as well. She is always leaving some of the choice mastodon bits hanging on branches near where he walks. They are stuffed into these neat intestine-tube containers and if you give her another couple of years, maybe she invents merchandising. Poor Neandergirl. When Ook finds these presents he always gives a sniff, and then circles wide around the package, like maybe he thinks it is a snake. I am thinking she cleans them out too much before using them, so he cannot tell what they are.

This one time, Ta and I are out gathering flowers. I am thinking that Ta is pretty cute, even if she does prefer taller — Men — so I do not mind hanging out with her and helping her with her batty plans. This day, she has this idea that if she takes the flowers and makes an arrangement out of them, like with grass and all, and sticks them in a nicely shaped lump of mastodon dung so that they stand up, that once Ook steps in them he will realize what a great catch she is, and how pretty their cave looks if he choses her as his mate.

So, we are wandering through the flower field and talking of this and that, and we see Neandergirl, who is also picking flowers. She has her buzzard bone, and a really nice bandeau that hides hardly any of her muscles. She is all about covering her face and chest with red ochre, too, so thick that it probably never comes off, even if she dies and is buried in it. She takes her flowers and she heads up for this cave, right next to where Ook starts out on his morning hunt, and the next thing we know, there is this really weird music noise coming out. Music that’s enhanced and distorted by the cave, with a bit of rolloff at the top end, and some induced flutter and wow in the bass.

Wouldn’t you know, a few minutes later, Ook comes by, on his way to the hunt. He stops when he hears the music, and listens for a minute. Then he starts walking slowly up the hill to the cave, like maybe he is in a trance or something. Just before he gets to the entrance, Ta cannot take it any more. If I do not grab her around the bandeau, she runs down there and throws herself across the opening. “Ook!!” she shouts. “Ook, don’t! It’s a trap, Ook!” But he never hears her — he just steps slowly into the cave, with his head to one side.

The music stops.

Afterwards, Ta stops going to the flower fields. She will not even pick them to help me with the grain and water and hops experiments and things. Over the years the local AMH’s do not seem as tall as the ones that first move here, and they have really bad taste in body ornamentation.


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