“No, you'll get us lost,” he pouted. “I know where my home is. I can feel it.” Without a moment's hesitation, he turned on his heel and strode back into the trees. Kyah looked sideways at Ivy, and then followed Trahg, still carrying Turi on her back.
“Fine.” With a resigned sigh, Ivy placed the wrapped bowl gently on Krue's belly and then picked up his lax body in her arms. He was no bigger than a five-year-old child, but had the dense muscles and bones you would expect of an active man. Still, he weighed about the same as Kyah, whom Ivy was used to carrying.
Ivy mulled over Trahg's words as she walked. I know where my home is. I can feel it. The tantalising analogy of a homing pigeon came back to her mind.
Trahg was right. Although it took longer with Ivy's burden of Krue, the child led them directly back to Liang Bua cave. Krue had regained consciousness halfway but was weak, so Ivy continued to carry him. Ivy imagined his headache was agony, so made no attempt at conversation. As they ascended the hill to the cave entrance, a crowd gathered. Ivy lowered Krue to his feet. Hands shot out to support him as he swayed unsteadily and exclamations of concern and questions began. Ivy looked down to see Gihn and Xiou pushing their way through, and Shahn swept Trahg into an embrace as Turi climbed from Kyah’s back into his mother’s arms.
“You naughty children! You didn't even tell me where you went, Turi. I thought a Shirakan had eaten you!” Floni scolded. “What happened?”
“I can answer that,” someone said. Ivy turned, surprised to hear Krue’s voice for the first time since the attack. The old man shot her an accusatory look and then spoke clear and loud across the cave. “Your Hiranah went to meet with the karathah.” Exclamations of shock pitted the tribe. “The hunter who murdered Tikan was waiting and when I tried to kill him, she and her animal,” he pointed a finger stub to Kyah, “attacked me!” He drew a deep breath and turned to face Gihn directly. “I warned you and you didn't listen. You will regret everything. This woman - this karathah - has betrayed us all.”
“I hope you don’t mind I came by.”
“No! I’m so relieved.” Orrin took in the woman’s stiff posture, the crease between her eyes and her heavy frown. “At least I think I am,” he faltered.
Jayne glanced at Dale, snoring softly, slumped over his desk. She raised an eyebrow.
“My lab assistant Dale,” Orrin said. “Three days straight trying to figure this thing out. He had to crash sometime.”
Jayne scrutinised Orrin’s appearance and opened her mouth to comment, but apparently changed her mind. Instead she looked intently about the room, her gaze lingering on the lit and buzzing equipment before finally resting again on Orrin’s face. She stood, taking two steps forward and met Orrin in the middle of the room. Holding her hand out, she dropped a black stone into his palm.
“It’s yours,” she said. “To borrow, mind you. I’ll need it back when you’re done. It’s still an important artefact.”
Ivy’s amulet felt warm in Orrin’s hand. Astonished, Orrin turned the stone over. I.C. His heart skipped a beat.
“Why did you change your mind?”
“It’s a long story. Let’s just say I have an ulterior motive,” Jayne said.
This time it was Orrin who raised an eyebrow. “Ulterior motive?”
“Like I said, long story.” She glanced to the door. “Look Orrin, I’m not saying I believe you, all I’m saying is that things are bad. If your insane story turns out to be true, it might be better for everyone.” Jayne’s frown was set and she was clearly going to offer no further explanation.
“Fair play,” Orrin said. “What about the amulet though? Like you said, it’s an important artefact. Not that I want you to change your mind of course.”
Jayne looked agitated. “I’m finished with it – for now. I got the DNA results back. Nothing conclusive, any residues have decayed. The dating is definitive at fifty thousand years though so it’s not a site contaminant. Anyway, I can’t test it again; it’s been contaminated by your DNA now so you may as well use it for your experiments.” Orrin had the decency to look ashamed.
“Thanks Jayne, I really appreciate it.”
“You’d better. I’m risking my job by giving it to you, not to mention my research.” From her jeans pocket Jayne pulled a small plastic artefact bag. She weighed it in her hand momentarily, chewing her bottom lip. With a deep breath she handed it to Orrin. “It’s this one that’s got me stumped. Take a look at it - through the bag, do not take it out.” Curious, Orrin held the bag up to the light.
“What is that scratched on the surface?” The florescent roof lights glistened off the plastic as he turned it. The stone was almost perfectly round and flat on one side.
“It’s a river stone, rolled underwater to become smooth - you can tell by the rounded edges. It was found in the same stratigraphic layer as the other one, about a meter away against the interior cave wall. It’s not utilitarian; see - it has no sharp edges, no hafting point. There’s nothing else like it. It seems entirely non-functional. My guess would be that it’s ornamental.”
“Okay?”
“Not okay. This stratigraphic layer is found right on cultural transition mark,” Jayne said.
“Cultural -”
“Anything found below this layer, in other words, anything we've dated to earlier than fifty thousand years, shows absolutely no inclusion of art or culture. It's all entirely functional. Tools were created to be used and then thrown away or lost. Above this stratigraphic layer though, on our side of the last fifty thousand years, the hobbits in that cave suddenly experienced an explosion of culture - ornamentation on artefacts, symbolic drawings, and cave paintings.” At Orrin's perplexed look she explained. “It's not normal, Orrin. Usually there's a transitional period, a few thousand years at least where the old way of life bleeds into the new. With these hobbits though, it's like, bam, art appears. Right there, at fifty thousand years ago, and this little guy,” she flicked the bag Orrin was holding, “is the earliest one we've found.”
Orrin studied the engraved image on the river stone. His mouth went dry and he swallowed hard. “Jaysus, Mary and Joseph - it has five points Jayne. Look at that shape - it’s an ivy leaf.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Jayne said, scratching her fingers through her honey-coloured hair. “It shouldn’t be there Orrin. I googled it. Ivy plants are native to the Atlantic Islands, Europe, North-western Africa and Central Southern Asia but only as far as Japan. Fifty thousand years ago, this leaf would never have been seen in Indonesia, much less on a remote island like Flores.”
“It’s identical to the birthmark on Ivy’s thigh,” Orrin said.
Jayne spluttered in surprise, and then looked mildly amused. “Well, I couldn’t quantify that so I’ll take your word for it.” Her voice dropped again, almost to a whisper and she met his eyes cautiously. “The thing is though; I found blood residues on its surface. That’s highly unusual in itself, considering this isn’t a tool– it wasn’t used for hunting or chopping or scraping, in fact, it wasn’t used for anything at all as far as I can tell. But still, there was blood. Red blood cells, dried, mostly degraded. But there were enough. So I did DNA analysis on this one too.”
Orrin inhaled sharply. “And?”
“And I found genetic markers for European DNA. Modern European DNA. That means that the blood belonged to a modern Caucasian person of European descent; not an archaic Homo sapien and certainly not one of Indonesian origin.”
“Ivy’s blood?” He cradled the smooth river stone in his fingertips, memorising the shape of the ivy leaf etched on its face. She made this, I’m sure of it. The thought that he held a fifty-thousand-year old stone artefact smeared with Ivy’s blood terrified him. Perspiration pricked on Orrin’s neck and he dropped numbly into a chair.
“I’m not saying it’s Ivy’s blood,” Jayne said. “I mean, that’s mental. She’d have to have been there- she had to have been there fifty thousand years ago for that to be true. I just can’t- I’m just saying
it’s something. Something that really shouldn’t be there. I thought you’d want to know.” Even so, she looked apologetic. “I’m going to test it again.” Jayne held out her hand and reluctantly Orrin handed her the small bag. She turned to leave but stopped at the door, facing him again. Her frown was set hard.
“There’s one more thing,” Jayne said.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know anything about this woman Ivy and I don’t know if you’re right, and if she was there,” Jayne looked down at the specimen bag in her hands, “or whether she left these – clues for someone to find. I don’t even know what you did to make this happen- but I’m pretty sure you did something- just- whatever it is, for the sake of those hobbits, I hope you can fix it.”
By five in the afternoon, Orrin’s vision was blurring with exhaustion. He left the lab and walked towards the refectory, hoping to grab a coffee from the cart vendor before they packed up. The dusk sun fell behind the mostly empty car park ahead. A man in a business suit approached him from a gleaming parked car. He walked briskly but his face was weary.
“Excuse me?” The man called out.
Orrin stopped and waited for the man to reach him. When he did, Orrin glanced at the heavy clipboard in his arm, noting a government seal on its cover. Animal Research Regulation Department.
“Do you think you could point me in the direction of the Anatomical Sciences Building, please?” the man asked.
“Anatomy?” Orrin inclined his head, trying to remember where in the sprawling university it was. He vaguely recalled a new wing on the eastern side of campus.
Just as Orrin was about to admit his unfamiliarity with the campus, a plain white van pulled into the loading zone close by. An overalled man jumped out, pulling the back doors wide open and jumping inside. The man beside Orrin sighed and muttered something under his breath.
“You alright, man?” Orrin asked quietly. Although he was a complete stranger, Orrin felt a strange affinity for the man. Perhaps it was the dogged look about him that reminded Orrin of his own tired frustration.
The man looked at him, surprised. He took in Orrin’s genuine smile and returned it. “You know those days when you just don’t want to come to work?” he said. “This is one of them.”
Orrin nodded in sympathy. “I hear you loud and clear.” He offered his hand. “Orrin James, physics department.”
“Alex Kraymer.” Alex Kraymer. The name sounded familiar but Orrin couldn’t place it. At least, not until Alex had ushered over the overalled man who was now rolling a large metal crate toward them on a trolley. The crate had a complicated number lock on its door and a widely meshed opening at the top.
“Delivery from DHS?” Alex asked the courier.
“Yeah, for the Anatomy Department. Someone named Greyson’s meant to sign for it.”
“Tyrone Greyson. Yeah, I’m heading over there now. You can bring the hobbit along.” Hobbit? Immediately, the familiarity of the suited man’s name became apparent. It had been in the newspaper article that Phil had so carelessly tossed onto the table, headlining the civil riots that had brought pharmaceutical giant Cosmitech to ashes. This man had been the government spokesperson that had investigated their malpractice. And right now, Mr Alex Kraymer was looking to Orrin expectantly with a smile.
“Right, of course!” Orrin gushed. “Sure, sure, the Anatomy Department. Actually, I was just heading that way myself. Why don’t we walk together?” The lie came too easily. After Orrin’s endless path of obstacles, this man felt like a prize.
“So,” Orrin tried to look nonchalant, as he eyed the cage, leading the men by the longest route he could think of toward the Eastern wing, “Another hobbit, hey?”
“That’s right,” Alex replied politely.
“They’re quite the topic of conversation lately, aren’t they? After that holy show in the city.” For all his attempts to seem casual, Orrin couldn’t mask his nervous habit of pushing his fingers into the bridge under his glasses and glancing back to the steel cage. He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Famous for all the wrong reasons,” Alex sighed. “Cosmitech was a bad case and believe me, that’s saying something.”
Orrin couldn’t help himself. “Why hobbits though? I mean, why didn’t they use chimps or rats?” Alex glanced at Orrin as they walked. He seemed hesitant to answer, searching Orrin’s face for some sort of judgment on the matter. Orrin reassured him with a shrug of his shoulders and tried to look disinterested.
“Honestly, I don’t know the first damn thing about them, I’m just genuinely curious as to why they’re causing such an uproar,” Orrin placated.
Alex nodded and visibly relaxed. “Other animals do get used of course,” he said. “Plenty of them. There are too many lab rats out there to count. They breed fast, share basic anatomy with us and they’re easy to contain. Other primates, yeah, lots of them in research labs too.” Alex’s eyes searched the sky as he walked. “Maybe in the vicinity of 130,000 worldwide now, including chimps, bonobos, gorillas and orangs. But hobbits, well, if you can get a hobbit for your research, you’re getting the cream of the crop, metaphorically speaking. There are maybe 40,000 hobbits in labs, used for everything from neurosurgical trials to cosmetic surgery techniques. Lots of deep brain tissue research on live hobbits is being done using micro-electrode stimulation under the cranial plate - you can’t do that sort of thing on humans obviously. Very ugly stuff. It’s kept out of the pubic eye for a reason.” Alex looked grim.
“Not lately, though.” Orrin pushed, remembering the graphic placards of the Cosmitech riot.
“No, not lately,” Alex agreed. “The thing is, hobbits share 99.5% of our DNA, so for human medical trials, they’re perfect – you get the human component without the ethical barriers.”
“Do they get results?”
“Sometimes. In 1955 almost one hundred thousand of them were killed to create the vaccine for polio. Virtually eradicated the virus by 1965 and we still use that same vaccine today. Big sacrifice, big reward for humanity.”
“Sure, but which version of humanity?” Orrin couldn’t help but note.
Alex took a deep sigh. “It’s the age old argument, isn’t it? Whether advances in the human condition brought about by hobbit experimentation are undertaken at the expense of human character. Do unto others…”
They continued walking for a few minutes in silence as they each considered those words. Orrin followed the line of buildings, hoping he was still on the right track. The courier pushed the cage behind them as they walked, content to keep to himself.
Finally, Alex spoke again. “I don’t like what I do, you know. I enable pain and death everyday. But if I didn’t do it, imagine how much worse their lives might be. The animals in labs get the raw end of the deal, but at least I can make sure they get food and water, vet care and pain relief while they’re being used. I make the corps accountable. You don’t want to know some of the cases I’ve had to deal with, Orrin. It’d make your stomach turn. It’s a hard line, but I’m making a difference.”
Orrin nodded. “What are the chances it’ll change for them?” he asked.
Alex considered for a moment. “Pretty slim I’d say. I mean, there’s been a push for legislation to extend basic human rights to them for some time. They’d have the right to live, the protection of individual liberty and the prohibition of torture. Same as us. To extend our rights to non-human primates would ensure invasive research practices are more regulated and in some cases, certain practices would be outlawed.”
“So why not do it then?” Orrin asked.
Alex shrugged. “Well, the argument goes back and forth in parliament, never any closer to a resolution,” he said. “Giving them human rights would likely affect human welfare, as in sapien welfare. Obviously, the benefits to human medical research could be severely stunted as potential new discoveries are shunned in favour of civil rights. Does the greater good to human society outweigh the cost in hobbit and primate lives in labor
atories?”
“Surely they’ll need a lab alternative at some point though? Computer simulations, tissue culture, that sort of thing,” Orrin argued. “In my reality, I mean, um, from what I understand, most apes are on the brink of extinction anyway aren’t they?”
“Absolutely. But that weighs against them just as strongly. Most politicians advocate that the remainder of apes including hobbits, still alive, should be used for human medical advancement while they’re still a viable resource.”
“A viable resource, hey?” Orrin shook his head. That term had once been used on him. So clinical. He inclined his head toward the steel cage rolling behind them down the path. “So what’s happening to this viable resource then?”
Alex flicked through his folder of paperwork. “It’s publicly accessible information so I guess I can tell you. Twelve-year-old male. Bred in captivity - looks like this one’s a brain study. Greyson has an extensive research grant and runs a pretty strict lab. Apparently we never have any problems with his treatment methods. Aside from the obvious of course - his resources need to be euthanized for the protocol to work. He’s got a bunch of PhD’s in there analysing the magnetite in their frontal lobe, trying to figure out how it all works.”
Orrin stopped walking. “Why on earth do they have magnetite in their brains?”
Alex looked up at him, more surprised than before. “I’d have thought you’d already know, being a physicist and all.” He frowned at Orrin’s blank look. “Magnetism. For their navigation, of course. They have homing capabilities like a pigeon, an amazing directional sense. Not to mention the high amount of cryptochrome proteins in their eyes and sinus bones – they’ve got magnetoception all sewn up. It’s some sort of synchronistic development from evolving in South East Asia. All that metal that’s getting ripped out of the continental shelf; we only found it because of the hobbits. Colonials discovered them and their hardwired connection to the deposits underground, then mined the bejeezus out of it. If it weren’t for those hobbits, half of the planet would be missing its electricity right now.”
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