Free Tribes by Arthur Slade Page B

him.
    "Yes, Lucy. Australopithecus afarensis ," I explained.
    "Do you mean the ape fossil?"
    "She was not an ape but an ancestor of humans. You are confusing her with the 'missing link' between ape and man. She is on our side of the divide. I'm surprised you're not aware of that."
    The corners of his mouth curled into a grin. "You know a lot about human history, don't you?"
    I nodded.
    "What's the worst thing that's ever happened?"
    "Ever?" I repeated. "Through all time?"
    "Sure, all time."
    "Easy. When Australopithecus climbed down from the trees and walked upright."
    His smile disappeared. "Why?"
    "Hiroshima."
    "Explain."
    I gathered my thoughts. The walls of this office would not be able to contain these words, but I decided to release them anyway. "In 1945 a crew of hominids piloted the Enola Gay , a B-29 bomber constructed by hominids. It carried a four-hundred-and-eight-kilogram atomic device built by another group of scientist hominids. They called the device Little Boy. They dropped this bomb on Hiroshima, a city full of Japanese hominids. Ten square kilometers were flattened: a hundred thousand unsuspecting hominids perished immediately. Another hundred thousand later succumbed to burns and radiation sickness."
    Mr. Verplaz was speechless. He leaned forward, as though trying to get a clearer picture of me.
    I continued. "Why didn't they flatten Mount Fujiyama instead? Wouldn't that have conveyed the same message? But they targeted Hiroshima, a city founded in the sixteenth century, then returned three days later and flattened Nagasaki. Just think of all the genetic lines—the years of evolution it took to create those specific human beings—all gone in a flash that reduced their DNA strands to nothing."
    Mr. Verplaz had crossed his arms and shifted slightly away. I slid my chair closer.
    "Pretend we could go back to that lush jungle where Australopithecus afarensis Lucy sits in a tree, minding her own business. What if we told Lucy that when she climbed down and stood upright, she would begin a process in which her offspring's offspring would climb into the cockpit of the Enola Gay ? Would she stand upright? Or decide to stay in that tree for another five million years, leaving the world to the apes and chimpanzees?"
    Mr. Verplaz adjusted his glasses. "So mankind doesn't deserve to exist?"
    "It's not my job to judge."
    "What is your job?"
    "To observe. To take notes."
    "For whom?"
    For my father. Verplaz had nearly dragged the words out of me.
    "For future anthropologists," I said carefully. His luminous, hypnotic eyes stared. He saw secrets. He truly was a shaman, descended from the great shamans who guided our tribes through dream worlds. I sensed his spirit surrounding me. I was in his bear cave.
    "You were about to say something else."
    I shook my head.
    "How's your relationship with your mother?"
    "She's loving, understanding and nurturing. And I..."I wanted to use the word love but it was too vague, its meaning slippery. Instead: "I try to be a good son."
    He loomed closer, now peering directly at me. His ancestors had once read mammoth entrails. His magico-religious powers were fine-tuned to the point of omniscience. "What about your father?" he whispered.
    "He died long ago."
    This startled Mr. Verplaz. He blinked and squinted at a paper, presumably the profile of Percival Montmount, Jr.
    "Your father's dead?" the shaman said with disbelief. "I'm sure I would have read about it in the papers."
    "I assure you, he has passed on."
    "Are you comfortable talking about it?"
    "Of course. Death is part of the life cycle. My father was bitten by a beetle in the Congo and infected with black Azazel sickness."
    "A beetle bit him? Do they carry infections?"
    "Did I say beetle? I'm mixing him up with Darwin." My thoughts were jagged, broken. "It was a tsetse fly."
    "When did he die?"
    "Three years ago."
    "What kind of man was he? Warm? Aloof?"
    I tapped my foot on the floor. Stopped. "He traveled frequently."
    "Did you