Antediluvian

by Wil McCarthy

  When she was finally done, he said, “I feel sensible. Thanks for teaching. And now will Stepfather tell us the story of Stepfather’s day?”

  “Do not be rude,” Mother said sharply.

  But Tik-Tik persisted: “Why did Mother join with this Mute? This Mute can not teach. This Mute can not tell stories.”

  “Stepfather can sing,” Grandmother said, nodding her encouragement.

  And so Stepfather began a song that had only two words: “Love, harmony. Love, love, love, love, harmony.” He could barely form the words, and yet he sang them over and over again, in rising and falling tones, putting as much feeling into them as any human voice ever could. Tik-Tik was annoyed at first—he hated it when Stepfather sang!—but gradually he found the music soothing him inside, and when Mother and Grandmother began to clap their hands and sing along, Tik-Tik hesitated and then finally joined them. And when the song was done, he couldn’t think of anything rude to say.

  “Important words,” Grandmother said.

  “Not many,” Tik-Tik said, finding a bit of his anger again. Then, more seriously: “Why is Stepfather Mute? What is wrong with Stepfather?”

  It was a question that had never occurred to him before, but suddenly it seemed very important. Had Stepfather ever been able to speak? Had he lost his words, the way a man might lose a spear point, or had he broken them, the way a man might accidentally smash an ostrich egg filled with water?

  “Nothing is wrong,” Mother said. “Mutes are born Mute.”

  “Mmm. But then where do they come from?”

  Grandmother clucked. “Tik-Tik, almost everyone is Mute. Talking People are very few.”

  “Mmm,” Tik-Tik said. “Then where do Talking People come from?”

  Grandmother clucked again. “Tik-Tik does not know? All Talking People are boys and girls of Talking Woman, Grandmother’s Mother’s Grandmother. Talking Woman was different from Mutes. Talking Woman could sing like birds, and speak the thoughts that lived inside. All people could understand the thoughts of Talking Woman, even if people could not speak back to her. Talking Woman was lonely.

  “Talking Woman often walked alone, even though there were snakes in the earth. Talking Woman often ate fruit of unknown trees, and dared scorpions to sting. Talking Woman often spoke to Sun, and sang to Moon, hoping for responses that never came. Talking Woman remained very lonely.

  “To fill Talking Woman’s heart, Talking Woman filled Talking Woman’s womb. Talking Woman rolled in dust with many men who could not speak, and bore many boys and girls. But Talking Woman’s boys and girls could speak! Talking Woman taught boys and girls all words, and some boys and girls knew other words and taught them to Talking Woman, and finally there was speech in the earth, and Talking Woman was not lonely.

  “But still, Talking Woman walked alone in wilderness, speaking to animals, looking for animals that might speak back. One day, Talking Woman spoke with monkeys, and was scratched. One day, Talking Woman spoke with snakes, and was bitten. Talking Woman stumbled back home. Talking Woman told people what happened. Talking Woman died among Talking Woman’s boys and girls.

  “Boys and girls became men and women, but also brothers and sisters. Does Tik-Tik know? Brothers and sisters do not roll in dust together and do not marry. And so, Talking men and Talking women rolled with Mutes, and married Mutes, and produced more boys and girls, and some of these could talk badly, and some of these could talk well, and these were the Talking People. And when Talking People married Talking People, the boys and girls could speak, and when Talking People married Mutes, boys and girls could also speak.

  “Talking People share thoughts, Tik-Tik. Mutes can not do this. This means what one person knows, all people can know. This made Talking People sensible, and clever, and hard to beat or trick. This made Talking People beautiful! Mmm, how Mutes wanted to join with Talking People! One Talking man may roll with many Mute women, and produce many new Talking People.

  “And so Talking People grew, until earth was exhausted, and housing development split in two and was moved in different directions. Since that time, Talking People have split, and split again, and now cover many earths. But if Tik-Tik walks for many days in any direction, Tik-Tik will find only Mutes.”

  “And Mutes will want to roll in dust with Tik-Tik,” Mother said, giggling.

  Stepfather made his noise and his gesture again, and Mother and Grandmother laughed.

  When they were finished laughing, Grandmother said, “All Talking People have this choice: marry one Talking Person, or one Mute. Or roll with many Mutes, many times.”

  “Some try to do both,” Mother said. And then, after a long pause, she added: “This is why Father and Mother divorced.”

  * * *

  In the morning, Tik-Tik woke up early and did not let Stepfather out of his sight, until he was very certain Stepfather wasn’t going to go off hunting without him. The moment Stepfather awoke, Tik-Tik was speaking:

  “Stepfather! Help Tik-Tik find good stones!”

  “Mmm.”

  “Stepfather said Stepfather would help!”

  “Mmm.”

  “Will Stepfather help?”

  Stepfather nodded.

  “Will Stepfather help now?”

  Stepfather sighed, and glared, rolled his eyes, and voiced a single word: “No.” He mimed the act of eating, then sat up and reached for some cold leftovers, and an ostrich egg filled with water.

  “Will Stepfather help now?” Tik-Tik asked, when Stepfather had finished eating and drinking.

  Stepfather shook his head, and mimed the acts of stretching, walking, and leaving waste. Tik-Tik groaned in frustration.

  This went on for some time; Stepfather needed to watch Sun bloom up over some bushes. Stepfather needed to check edges and tip on Stepfather’s spear point, to make sure they were still sharp. Stepfather needed to bite off a hanging toenail. At some point, Tik-Tik finally realized Stepfather had run out of legitimate reasons to delay, and was simply teasing.

  “Enough,” Tik-Tik said. “Please.”

  And then finally they were off, to the unknown earth. Tik-Tik realized it was his first time going to work with an adult since he was a very small boy. Unfortunately that adult happened to be Stepfather, but at least Tik-Tik was going to get his stones.

  To his surprise, they took off in a direction Tik-Tik rarely went: away from the stream. There were some low hills in the distance, and that appeared to be exactly where Stepfather was headed. Tik-Tik felt worms in his belly, for he had never walked so far from the stream and the housing development and everything familiar. He began to grow thirsty, but when he complained to Stepfather, Stepfather merely picked up a pebble off the ground and placed it in his own mouth.

  “Mmm?” he said, gesturing to Tik-Tik.

  Uncertainly, Tik-Tik picked up a pebble of his own, brushed the dust off it, and popped it into his mouth.

  “Nng,” Stepfather said, opening his mouth and showing Tik-Tik where the pebble was: under his tongue. Tik-Tik copied him, and to his surprise, found his thirst was satisfied. Stepfather nodded in satisfaction.

  Tik-Tik’s second surprise was that the earth out here was not empty. He had imagined the two of them walking alone through grass and bushes and trees, but instead they passed men and women busy at their own work: hunting miniature goats, gathering firewood, digging yams, smashing mongongo nuts. They waved or called out greetings to Stepfather and Tik-Tik as they passed by. Not so different from the children playing at the outskirts of the housing development! Was this work? Was this adulthood? Suddenly it did not seem so impossible or so distant.

  His third surprise was that some of the people they passed were people Tik-Tik did not know and had never seen before.

  “Who is that? Who is that?” he asked Stepfather several times. “Who is that?”

  But Stepfather could not answer; he simply shrugged and croaked out the words, “Other people.”

  But the strangers became more and more frequen
t as they walked further and further from the housing development, and finally, it occurred to Tik-Tik that these might be the people of his father and sister, and of the childhood friends he could now barely remember. And when he asked this of Stepfather, Stepfather nodded.

  “Is there another housing development?”

  Again, Stepfather nodded, and pointed. That way.

  Excitedly: “Can it be visited?”

  Stepfather shook his head. “Busy.”

  Tik-Tik didn’t know exactly what Stepfather meant by that. That they were busy? That Father was busy? Probably both. He didn’t like that answer, but he did want to get stones today.

  “Can it be visited another time?”

  Stepfather nodded. And that was the day’s greatest surprise: that at least some of the different earths and housing developments were within a day’s walk of one another. Tik-Tik had always imagined that his development was isolated, that his Father and !Ibi were gone forever, that the people in his development were all the people he was ever going to know. But Grandmother had said there were other Talking People, and also that if Tik-Tik walked far enough, he would find nothing but Mutes. So it made sense, and made him feel insensible not to have thought of this before. But he resolved in that moment, that when he was a man he would be a great journeyer, and visit as many people and earths and housing developments as he possibly could.

  * * *

  They reached the hills, and there Stepfather helped Tik-Tik locate three different kinds of stone. It took a long time, and Tik-Tik became very thirsty in spite of the pebble in his mouth. Stepfather tried picking apples and pears for him, but that simply wasn’t enough moisture, and so instead of going straight back to the housing development, they went out of their way to find a little watering hole. The water was muddy and smelled bad, but Stepfather drank it anyway. It had never occurred to Tik-Tik that water could be dirty, but he was so very thirsty that he drank, too.

  On the way back, his feet hurt, and the stones were difficult to carry, and Stepfather began to look unhappy, and then angry, and then a bit scared.

  “Rawr,” he said, imitating the sound of a lion. He pointed at Sun and mimed it burying itself beneath the dust.

  Tik-Tik became afraid then, too. This was another surprise: that lions or other dangerous animals might live within a day’s walk of the housing development. All his life, he had been told the area was safe. But how big was this safe area? How many lions existed in the world, and how many of them were capable of getting between home and wherever Tik-Tik was now? This was a difficult concept for him; there were no words to describe it.

  The sun fell lower in the sky, slipping behind treetops and then behind bushes, and daytime began to give way to twilight. Tik-Tik was often out in twilight, but (he realized now) always within a very short walk of the housing development. Never so far away. Never facing the possibility of anything unknown to him.

  Sniffing the air, Stepfather urged him to walk faster. Tik-Tik did this, now without complaining, but whatever Stepfather smelled, it was not going away. And then Tik-Tik could smell it too: a smell like urine, like jackals, like the blood and meat of a freshly skinned rabbit. A smell like nothing else he’d ever smelled.

  He heard a low growl, and turned to see an animal some distance away. The animal was much larger than a jackal, and it moved toward him and Stepfather with a grace and power Tik-Tik had never seen before. And again, his mind was unable to put these thoughts into words, which made them all the more frightening. Was this a lion?

  Stepfather moved in front of Tik-Tik and brandished his spear, making loud noises. The creature paused, then seemed to think. Truly, it seemed to calculate the benefits of attacking this man and this boy, versus the risks of getting poked by that spear. It seemed to understand that although it was physically more powerful, this fight could be a dangerous one. It would have been smarter for the creature to pounce on Stepfather while his back was turned, but it was too late for that, and so with a cool, patient mind the creature weighed its chances.

  Tik-Tik saw all of this in the creature’s eyes, and interpreted it with a kind of frozen wordless horror. But finally the lion decided to find an easier dinner somewhere else. With a movement like a shrug, it turned and vanished into the bushes.

  “Was that a lion?” Tik-Tik asked, his voice shaking.

  “Yes,” Stepfather confirmed.

  They made it back to the housing development without further incident, but the sky was almost fully dark by then, and Tik-Tik had learned a new respect for the darkness, and even for the daylight, and believed he would never feel entirely safe again.

  * * *

  Finally, something that resembled long-term planning! Tik-Tik was now both worrying about his future and daydreaming about it, and although Tik-Tik was not aware of this, Harv sensed the first stirrings of adolescence within it. He knew, somehow, that Tik-Tik would be a great traveler, and that the primary motive of this would be swapping genomes with a wide variety of women.

  Still, despite these developments, Harv found himself frustrated with Tik-Tik and his people. They seemed to be stuck somehow. Had they really just invented spoken language, a few generations ago? Or invented complex language, at any rate?

  But perhaps “invented” was the wrong word. Was this “Talking Woman” the creator of a powerful new technology, or the beneficiary of a mutant gene in some neural development pathway? The evidence pointed toward the latter, or else why couldn’t the Mutes be taught to speak? But was it really so simple? Could something as complex as language arise from a single gene, diffusing through an established population?

  In any case, this stuttering babytalk put the Talking People light-years ahead of the Mutes; already they were developing a culture and a history that would previously have been impossible. Would this explosion in word power lead to all the complex tools and customs of all the future peoples of all the world? Were these the great-great-grandparents of everyone? They did certainly resemble the people of Nog La, if perhaps a bit shorter and thinner and ruddier.

  And yet, there was something frightfully limiting about the babytalk as well. This primal Ursprache seemed not only to aid their thinking, but also, nearly as often, to get in the way of it. Tik-Tik’s encounter with the lion had paralyzed him, in part because he couldn’t think his way through it. He had the reflex of verbal internal dialogue, but not the vocabulary or the grammar.

  And so, even as he teetered on the brink of adolescence, his mind was in many ways that of a toddler. He couldn’t count higher than five, and it often seemed to Harv that he couldn’t notice—couldn’t see—anything he didn’t have a word for. And that was a lot of things! He also seemed to draw little distinction between his dream life and his waking one, or to understand that everything in his world was connected to everything else in some way. And so, yes, Tik-Tik and his fellow Talking People seemed to wander in something like a drug trance or a cartoon, whose sketches of reality left large portions of the page blurred out, or sometimes completely blank.

  In this way, Stepfather and the other Mutes actually seemed more advanced than the Talking People: more alert, more graceful, more at home in their skins and in their environments. If something couldn’t be told in a gesture or a grunt or a single word, the Mutes didn’t seem to conceptualize it at all. Rather, they simply let the experiences and sensations flow through them, and let themselves react appropriately.

  It was no wonder the two groups were so willing to mate up with one another: the complementary splendors of brain and brawn, of storytelling and alpha-state vigor, were each deeply compelling in their own way. If the Talking People were vaguely magical, then the Mutes were vaguely animal. Or one was Yin and the other Yang. Or left brain and right brain. So many metaphors fit!

  Harv knew very well that a few thousand generations from now, the Cro-Magnon people of places like Nog La would have fused these two aspects of their being back together again. Probably it took a lot less time than that. How long di
d it take for a pidgin trade language to transform into a regional creole, and thence into a fully differentiated language with its own clear rules and exceptions? Three generations? Five?

  Of course, that was with the knowledge of real languages lurking in the background, informing the process. It was surely harder for the Talking People, with no linguistic traditions to fall back on except the grammarless calls and signs of the Mutes. But was it a thousand times harder? Was it even ten times harder? Would this foggy, sketchy Dreamtime last even another hundred years? Harv had no way of knowing. Still, for the moment, the Mutes and Talking People were what they were, and where they were, with largely complementary strengths and weaknesses.

  “You would do well to stay close to your stepfather,” Harv thought at Tik-Tik. Then, smiling to himself, rephrased it as, “Stepfather good sensible. Tik-Tik follow.”

  3.4

  But Tik-Tik didn’t listen to Harv, any more than he listened to anyone else. He went back to Grandfather to learn, impatiently and with much complaining, to make spearpoints. Stepfather had found him sizeable lumps of flint, chert, and quartz, and Grandfather taught him to shape these with a stone hammer, a wooden punch or chisel, a leather mitt, and a great deal of patience. The spearpoints of these people were basically equilateral triangles a bit larger than a quarter—quite unlike the long, leaf-shaped points of Nog La. They weren’t particularly dense, either, but when fitted into a split at the end of a straight, heavy stick and then tied in place with sinew, they did somehow alter the aerodynamics and moment of inertia such that the stick could be thrown point-first with reasonable accuracy.

  Grandfather also taught Tik-Tik how to make knives and scrapers, and then, as a sort of graduate-level coursework, how to fashion a hand axe.

  “These are not very good for hunting,” Grandfather warned, “but chopping wood, chopping bone, chopping meat are all easier with axe than with ordinary stone.”

  And so, suddenly, Tik-Tik was as well equipped as any man or woman in the housing development. It made him feel important, and it made the other boys his age jealous. Soon there were many fathers leading many sons on expeditions to the hills for raw materials, and Grandfather—who tired easily and did not have much actual time available during the day—began giving his lessons in groups.