Evolution

In one corner of the terminal, there was a commotion as a large white box was wheeled in. It was like an immense refrigerator. Light flared, and cameras were thrust into Alison Scott’s face.

"One piece of luggage that evidently couldn’t wait," murmured Alyce.

"I think it’s live cargo," Maughan said. "I heard them talking about it."

Now little Bex Scott came running up to Joan. Joan noticed Ian Maughan goggling at her blue hair and red eyes; maybe folk were a little backward in Pasadena. "Oh, Dr. Useb." Bex took Joan’s hand. "I want you to see what my mother has brought. You, too, Dr. Sigurdardottir. Please come. Uh, you were kind to me on the plane. I really was frightened by all the smoke and the lurching."

"You weren’t in any real danger."

"I know. But I was frightened even so. You saw that and you were kind. Come on, I’d love you to see."

So Joan, with Alyce and Maughan in tow, let herself be led across the lounge.

Alison Scott was talking to the camera. She was a tall, imposing woman. "…My field is in the evolution of development. Evo-devo, in tabloid-speak. The goal is to understand how to regrow a lost finger, say. You do that by studying ancestral genes. Put together a bird and a crocodile, and you can glimpse the genome of their common ancestor, a pre-dinosaur reptile from around two hundred and fifty million years ago. Even before the end of the twentieth century one group of experimenters was able to ‘turn on’ the growth of teeth in a hen’s beak. The ancient circuits are still there, subverted to other purposes; all you have to do is look for the right molecular switch…"

Joan raised her eyebrows. "Good grief. You’d think it was her event."

"The woman’s work is show business," Alyce said with cold disapproval. "Nothing more, nothing less."

With a flourish, Alison Scott tapped the box beside her. One wall turned transparent. There was a gasp from the pressing crowd — and, beyond that, a subdued hooting. Scott said, "Please bear in mind that what you see is a generic reconstruction, no more. Details such as skin color and behavior have essentially had to be invented."

"My God," said Alyce.

The creature in the box looked like a chimp, to a first approximation. No more than a meter tall, she was female; her breasts and genitalia were prominent. But she could walk upright. Joan could tell that immediately from the peculiar sideways-on geometry of her hips. However, right now she wasn’t walking anywhere. She was cowering in a corner, her long legs jammed up against her chest.

Bex said, "I told you, Dr. Useb. You don’t have to go scraping for bones in the dust. Now you can meet your ancestors."

Despite herself, Joan was fascinated. Yes, she thought: to meet my ancestors, all those hairy grandmothers, that is what my life’s work has really been all about. Alison Scott evidently understands the impulse. But can this poor chimera ever be real? And if not, what were they really like?

Bex impulsively grasped Alyce’s hand. "And, you see?" Her crimson eyes were shining. "I did say you didn’t have to be upset about the loss of the bonobos."

Alyce sighed. "But, child, if we have no room for the chimps, where will we find room for her?"

The mock australopithecine, terrified, bared her teeth in a panic grin.

CHAPTER 9 The Walkers Central Kenya, East Africa. Circa 1.5 million years before present.

I

She loved to run, more than anything else in her life. It was what her body was made for.

When she sprinted, she covered a hundred meters in six or seven seconds. At a more steady pace, she could finish a mile in three minutes. She could run. As she ran, her breath scorched in her lungs, and the muscles of her long legs and pumping arms seemed to glow. She loved to feel the sting of the dust where it clung to her bare, sweat-slick skin, and to smell the scorched, electric scent of the land’s hot dryness.

It was late in the dry season. The day’s most powerful heat lay heavy on the savannah, and the overhead sun skewered the scene with bright symmetry. Between the pillowlike volcanic hills the grass was sparse and yellow, everywhere browsed and trampled by the vast herds of herbivores. Their pathways, across which she ran, were like roads linking pastures and water courses. In this era the great grass eaters shaped the landscape; none of the many kinds of people in the world had yet usurped that role.