Obsolete Theorem

by Stan C. Smith

  Skyra paused her story and turned to her birthmate. Again, Veenah was trying to smile, although she did not understand Skyra’s English words.

  “Skyra and Veenah kept looking for a pika. We looked until the sun touched the hilltops. Then Skyra heard Veenah shout. Skyra watched Veenah. Veenah pushed her pika spear into a crack between the rocks. She pulled her spear out, and a pika was on her spear. Veenah said, ‘I see another pika here, Skyra!’ Veenah did not have time to pull the first pika from the end of her spear, and she pushed the spear into another crack. Veenah pulled her spear out and two pikas were on her spear. Veenah said, ‘I see another pika, Skyra!’ Veenah then had another pika on her spear. Veenah said, ‘I see a rat under this rock, Skyra!’ Veenah held up her spear to show Skyra three pikas and a rat. Veenah said, “Skyra, I see a badger under this rock!’ Veenah pushed her spear under the rock and held it up for Skyra to see—three pikas, a rat, and a badger on her spear.”

  Before going on, Skyra gazed at Lincoln for a few breaths.

  “Okay, I see what you’re doing,” he said. “This is one of those stories you told me about that cannot be true. Your sister did not have three pikas, a rat, and a badger on her spear at the same time.”

  Skyra let out a laugh. “Aheeee… at-at-at-at-at… at-at-at-at.”

  Lincoln nodded. “Yeah, you got me. I was actually believing your story.”

  Skyra tried getting her laughter under control. “You have to say when! When was my story not true?”

  He wrinkled his brows. “Um, I’d have to say when Veenah got the third pika on her spear. I could believe two pikas at once, but three? I don’t think so.”

  Skyra laughed again. “No! Veenah did get three pikas on her spear. Three pikas, Lincoln. I saw her do that! She did not get a rat and badger on her spear.”

  He twisted his face into one of his strange bolup smiles. “I guess I lose the game, huh?”

  “Yes, you lose the game.”

  “So, if your people like to scare each other and tell stories that aren’t true, how do you ever know whether someone is lying or telling the truth?”

  Skyra felt her smile fade away. “We scare the children and tell stories when the sun has gone away for the day and we sit by the campfire. That is the time for stories. Una-Loto tribe will punish tribemates who say things that are not true when it is not time for stories. Sometimes they even kill.”

  Lincoln’s smile faded also. “That’s… kind of harsh.”

  They sat in silence for many breaths. Skyra watched the flames, but her eyes seemed to want to glance over at the strange bolup. Each time she looked, he was gazing back at her.

  Lincoln suddenly began speaking in a way Skyra had not heard him speak before. “I stood with my bottle in the pouring rain, I told myself I didn’t feel no pain. Oh, baby I miss you. I searched my pockets for the money I owed, I found I’ve done been bought and sold. Oh, baby I miss you.”

  He stopped and bared his teeth. “That’s a song I used to like. I realize it’s kind of silly now. I’m not a very good singer, but now you’ve heard me sing. Will you sing for me, Skyra?”

  Skyra glanced at her birthmate. Veenah had gone back to staring at the fire as if she hadn’t even heard the strange sounds from Lincoln’s mouth. Skyra had learned to sing from her birthmother. Her birthmother would only sing when she was away from the other tribemates of Una-Loto. She had told Skyra and Veenah that the other tribemates would not understand singing, but Skyra and Veenah were young then, and they did not believe their birthmother. They started singing while sitting by the campfire at the end of the day. Their birthmother was right, the men and women of Una-Loto did not understand. Skyra and Veenah were already different from other nandups, and when they sang, the men and women became angry. Two of the men, Vall and Gelrut, beat Veenah and chased Skyra into the hills. Skyra stayed alone for three days before finally returning to Una-Loto camp.

  Since then, Skyra had only sung alone, or when she was with Ripple. Why should she sing for this strange bolup? Lincoln’s singing was just a different way of talking—it sounded nothing like Skyra’s singing, so he would probably not like the way she sang.

  Lincoln watched her intently, as if he were willing to wait all night for her to decide. There was no anger in his words and no threat in the way he moved his skinny arms and legs. He probably couldn’t—and now Skyra believed he wouldn’t—hurt her if she refused to do what he asked.

  For that reason, she opened her mouth and began singing.

  12

  Homotherium

  47,659 years ago - Day 2

  Lincoln stared, fascinated, as Skyra began singing. Her song consisted of single, drawn-out syllables, each followed by a sharp click then another drawn-out syllable with a different vowel at a different pitch. At first the arrangement of syllables seemed random, but soon a pattern began to emerge.

  “Ooooaah-miiiiay-rhaaaaaaaaaa-ooooaah-draaaaaah-ooooaah.”

  The longer Skyra sang, the more it became apparent she was singing each syllable at an intentional and remarkably precise pitch. The cumulative effect of the pattern was mesmerizing.

  During the months leading up to this jump, Lincoln had read numerous paleontological, archaeological, and speculative behavioral studies regarding the possible habits and cognitive abilities of Neanderthals. Some researchers had suggested the beings had musical abilities, perhaps even possessing perfect pitch. However, those articles and books had been dry, scientific analyses, supported only by diagrams and photos of ancient skeletal remains and dig sites. Now Lincoln was staring at a live, singing Neanderthal woman, and all previous academic learning went out the window.

  Illuminated by the campfire, Skyra’s appearance was striking. She obviously possessed human-like intelligence. She was a vicious and skilled fighter, and she was probably just as skilled at hunting. Now it seemed she possessed highly-evolved artistic abilities. Lincoln had never made time in his busy life to develop musical skills, but he knew a gifted voice when he heard one—regardless of the style of music. Skyra’s singing was confident, unwavering, and downright beautiful.

  After about two minutes she abruptly stopped. She glanced at Veenah, who had watched Skyra’s performance without expression.

  “Thank you for singing for me,” Lincoln said.

  She gave him a sidelong look. “I thought thank you is what to say when a person saves your life,” she gestured toward Veenah, “or saves your birthmate’s life.”

  Ripple turned from staring out into the darkness. “Thank you should be used whenever someone does something nice for you. You were being nice to Lincoln by singing for him, so he said thank you.”

  She seemed to think about this.

  “I have a question,” Lincoln said. “In fact, I have many questions, but you never ask questions of me. You don’t ask where I came from, or what my life was like before coming here. Aren’t you curious?”

  “You did not come from the place I came from, so I do not ask about such a place. Your life before coming here was not my life, so why would I ask about it?”

  Lincoln shook his head, struggling to understand. “I know you just learned the word curious, but don’t you ever feel curious? Don’t you ever want to know about things?”

  “I want to know about many things, but why would I ask about things that do not matter to me?”

  “Well, that’s what curiosity is. Besides, how will you know if something matters to you if you don’t learn more about it?”

  She chewed on her thick lower lip for a moment. “Maybe if I ask you a question, you will speak the answer, then you will stop talking.”

  Lincoln couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Okay, that seems fair.”

  “How are you and your tribemates still alive?”

  “Well, I guess we’re lucky to be alive after all we’ve been through since coming here.”

  She picked a stick from the pile and placed it into the fire. “You are all skinny, and you came here with no spears or khuls. Y
our tribemate Derek believes he is an animal and attacks you. Your tribemate Jazzlyn has lost her arm, but instead of killing her, her tribemates gave her a weapon in place of her hand.”

  “This is going to be hard to explain,” he said, “but I am a leader of a team, which is like a tribe. I get to choose who is on my team. Years ago, I decided to choose people who have some kind of disability.”

  “Disability,” Skyra said.

  “Yes. A disability is a problem a person has to overcome. I believe these problems make people stronger in certain ways.”

  “Your tribemate Virgil—I think he is afraid of many things. Is that his disability?”

  Lincoln hesitated, almost shocked by Skyra’s perception. “Yes, but that’s just a part of his issue.” He considered trying to explain what had happened to Virgil, but he decided against it, particularly considering the horrors Veenah had just experienced. “It’s hard to explain.”

  Skyra stared at him, her visage disarmingly intense. “What is your disability, Lincoln?”

  This caught him off guard. “Uh, I guess that’s a good question. Maybe this won’t make sense to you, but my problem started when I was a child. When I was young, I believed my life was really difficult. People didn’t understand me, and many of them were cruel to me. Even more people were cruel to me when I got older, because I was smarter than they were, and because I created things they couldn’t understand.” Lincoln realized he wasn’t making sense. He hadn’t described anything that would be traumatic enough to cause someone permanent psychological damage.

  He decided to quit while he was ahead. “Okay, maybe I don’t actually have a serious problem, but my experiences have allowed me to understand people who have to deal with their own problems. I’m comfortable around those people.” He let out a sigh, deciding to give up. “Does any of that make sense?”

  Her intense stare didn’t let up. “I know enough of your words.”

  Day 3

  Something sharp pressed against Lincoln’s cheek near his mouth. He grunted and opened his eyes. The darkness had subsided, replaced by the gray light of early dawn.

  He felt the sharp jab again and raised his head.

  Skyra was standing over him, holding her spear with its stone tip centimeters from his face. She lowered the spear and put a palm over her mouth, signaling him to be silent. She pointed past the now-smoldering campfire.

  Adrenaline surged through Lincoln’s body, making him fully alert. He looked where she was pointing. Nothing. He turned back to her and mouthed, “What?”

  Veenah was sitting up beside Skyra, her battered face turning one way then the other as she scanned the brush beyond the camp, apparently watching for something.

  Lincoln looked again. This time he saw movement. Some kind of creature was pacing from left to right, almost hidden by the vegetation. It was tan in color, and it moved purposefully, more like a stalking predator than a browsing herbivore. Whatever the creature was, it was big, perhaps two hundred kilograms, with shoulders over a meter high.

  He got to his knees, grabbed the bow he’d taken from the bolup camp, and pulled an arrow from the quiver. His fingers were now trembling as he tried nocking the arrow. Why in the hell hadn’t he practiced with the bow yesterday? Years ago he had made an indoor archery range in one wing of his main lab back home, and he’d even used it every few weeks as a way to clear his head. However, he had used an ultralight compound bow with precision sights and cables and cams allowing a 94% let-off on the draw. This primitive longbow was an entirely different ballgame. The arrow’s nock was only a slight indentation in the end of the shaft, and his own knuckle would have to serve as the arrow rest.

  Ripple stepped closer to Lincoln and spoke softly. “It appears we are being sized up for attack by two Homotherium—scimitar-toothed cats, in case you are not familiar with the genus name. Fossil evidence indicates this creature is built for speed and power, specializing in brute-force attacks, slamming its two-hundred-kilogram body into its prey, then slashing ruthlessly with its ten-centimeter, serrated canine teeth.”

  “Scaring the hell out of me is not helpful,” Lincoln hissed.

  “I’m making the point that if the scimitar-toothed cats decide to attack, shooting one of them with that bow will have little effect. A better strategy would be to persuade them not to attack in the first place.”

  “Will your siren scare them off?”

  “Possibly, but there is a chance it could enrage them.”

  Lincoln glanced at the smoldering fire. The pile of sticks he and the Neanderthals had collected was now depleted. “We’re out of firewood.”

  “Yes, we are. Our options are limited.”

  “The cats are coming closer,” Skyra said, no longer whispering.

  Lincoln saw both of them now, one approaching from the left, the other from the right. The predators were enormous, at least the size of African lions. Their hind legs were oddly shortened, giving them a hyena-like appearance that somehow made them seem more aggressive.

  “Veenah,” Skyra said, waving to her sister to come closer. She then grabbed Lincoln’s elbow and pulled him to her side. “Stand close—we will look like a larger animal. Raise your arms.” She lifted her spear over her head. Veenah held both arms high, and Lincoln raised his bow.

  The cats kept approaching, holding their heads low even though they now had no vegetation in which to conceal themselves. Lincoln could see their curved, elongated canines protruding over their lower jaws. Their eyes seemed to be the size of tennis balls. Even armed with a bow, he felt more vulnerable now than when he and the others had attacked the human camp.

  At fifteen meters out, the cats slowed their approach and began circling.

  “Attack is probable at this point,” Ripple said. “We must act before the creatures overcome their last remnants of fear.” The drone activated its vision lights and skittered directly toward one of the cats. The cat froze, and Lincoln could see Ripple’s light reflected in the creature’s eyes.

  Ripple didn’t slow down. The drone was three meters and closing when it turned on its siren. Instead of backing off, the Homotherium rushed forward, knocking the drone onto its side. The second cat sprinted around Lincoln, Skyra, and Veenah and joined in the attack. Ripple’s legs retracted into its belly as both cats bit down, their teeth raking the drone’s shell loudly enough to be heard above its siren.

  Skyra rushed forward, screaming and waving her spear.

  One of the cats gave up on Ripple and turned, snarling to face Skyra.

  There was no time to think about what to do next. Lincoln ran to Skyra’s side and drew back his bow. The bow was stiffer than he’d expected, perhaps fifty pounds of draw weight. It had no sights—he’d have to shoot instinctively. He stared at the creature’s eyes for a split second then released.

  The arrow struck the cat’s face with a dull chuck. The creature leapt straight up, its paws clearing the ground by almost a meter. It then scrambled away several meters before plunging its chin onto the ground and spinning in a circle, pawing at the arrow, which appeared to be embedded in one of its eye sockets.

  Still standing over Ripple, the second cat stared at its companion for a moment then sprinted off, disappearing among the low trees and scrub brush.

  Ripple’s siren fell silent.

  Growling fiercely, the injured cat rolled on the ground, kicking and scattering rocks in every direction in its attempts to rid itself of the arrow. It suddenly got up and ran, stumbling over its own feet every few strides. Soon it was out of sight, although Lincoln could still hear it thrashing through the weeds for several more seconds.

  Ripple kicked its legs out, rolled over, and stood up. “Lincoln, I must apologize for all the times I have complained about the added weight you have given me in the form of a reinforced shell.”

  Skyra kneeled beside the drone. “You are hurt, Ripple. Why did you do that?”

  “Perhaps someday you will decide to thank me for risking my own life to save
yours. After all, it is becoming a daily occurrence.”

  Lincoln’s heart was still pounding, and he had to swallow several times to keep from throwing up. He inspected Ripple’s shell. It had numerous dents and scratches from the cats’ teeth, but the shell material was not punctured. Watching the surrounding area in case the predators came back, he stepped over to where the injured cat had ground its chin into the gravel. Among the splatters of blood was half of his arrow, including the fletching. He picked it up and went back to Skyra, Veenah, and Ripple.

  Skyra snatched the broken arrow from his fingers and studied it. She shifted her gaze to the bow in his other hand then back to the arrow. Lincoln could almost see the reasoning taking place behind her eyes. Apparently, her people had not yet developed the use of bows as weapons. Now, though, she understood. Lincoln realized he was witnessing a profoundly significant historical moment. The problem was, Skyra’s revelation was the result of his actions. There could now be no doubt that Lincoln’s team had impacted the timeline enough to result in a drastically different future. If Skyra and her sister survived to rejoin their tribe.

  13

  Strength

  47,659 years ago - Day 3

  Skyra watched for the long-tooth cats to return while Lincoln folded up his shelter—which no one had used—and put it back into his green bag.

  “Show me how to use the bolup weapon,” she said after he put the bag on his back.

  He twisted his mouth to the side as if he were thinking. Then he shrugged off his bag again and held up the weapon. “The concept is simple. The humans bent this piece of wood before tying the string to each end, so the string is pulled tight by the wood. The string is what throws the arrow forward.” He put one of the tiny spears across the weapon then showed how to hold the weapon in one hand and pull the string and spear back with the other hand. Then, instead of letting go, he slowly let the string go back to its original position. “I’m not going to shoot this because I only have five arrows left, and I have no idea how to make more.” He held it out to her. “It’s called a bow, and it can be deadly if you practice to learn how to hit what you’re aiming at.”